.:. Three .:.

Two Years Later

The breeze of the city docks whipped though Molly's short, brown strands, one hand cold against the railing of the boat while the other gripped her phone as Kathy squealed excitedly into her ear.

"I can't believe I'm gonna see you in a few hours, hon! Tell me, have you managed to get sailing on that boat of yours, yet? You'd better hurry! I haven't seen your cute face since last year, my hug will break your spine!"

Molly made her way over to the back of the boat, closest to the docks. She collapsed onto her knees and used her shoulder to hold the phone up as she attempted to figure out how to untie the rope from the cleat. It was one tight knot.

"Uh… working on it, Kaths," she humoured her. "Do you mind if I ring you back? My hat is falling off and my glasses are slipping down my nose. I don't want to drop my phone into the sea, either. What if I get captured by pirates? Who will I call? They'll make me walk the plank without so much of a goodbye phone call… my body washing up on Castanet a few months later."

"You really think those big, tough, burly—"

"Okay, I don't need to hear your pirate fantasy right now. I'll ring you back."

"You'd better. Bye, hon."

Molly hung up and stuffed the phone into her pocket, focusing all of her attention on getting the boat out to sea. But it was hopeless. She had rented the dingy little fishing boat being reassured that it would get her to Castanet in one piece. It seemed like a good idea at the time, and she relished in all of the money she would save if she found her own way to the island instead of purchasing an overpriced boat ticket.

Now, she was full of regret, her frugality like her own special karma.

Suddenly, she no longer felt the beating summer sun on the back of her neck—a shadow loomed over her, and underneath her nose, were a pair of sandals.

"Give me a ride," the sandals drawled.

Molly sighed, but didn't look up as the knot friction-burned her fingers. "No," she managed to keep her voice firm but calm, "this is my boat."

The sandals stepped back a few feet. "Impressive. You're telling me that you're the owner of this magnificent beauty of a yacht?"

"I'm telling you that I am loaning this magnificent beauty of a yacht."

"And that stops me from getting a ride… how?"

"Your manners, for one, are an obstacle."

"Look, whatever your name is—"

She jerked her body up and set hands onto her hips as she glared—through sunglasses—at the man whose blonde hair was flattened with the addition of a black baseball cap, eyes also obscured with a pair of sunglasses.

"It's Molly. Thanks for asking."

"Dolly—"

"It's Molly!"

"Dolly, Polly, Molly. They all sound the same. Molly," he elongated the vowels and she had the inkling that he rolled his eyes. "That's what I said—"

She threw her hands into the air with exasperation. "No, you didn't!"

He stepped up onto the boat and lifted up his suitcase, making the vessel rock with the addition of a new weight.

"Oh, so now we have to conduct thorough introductions? How about a resume of all of my likes and dislikes while we're at it? Well, Polly—I like Pina Coladas and getting caught in the rain—"

"God, you're so annoying! I asked for a name—wait, no I didn't! I was still waiting for you to get mine right!"

"You're so difficult," he grumbled and crossed his arms. "Whatever… I'm Chase. Can we leave now?"

Molly removed her sunglasses with haste. "C-Chesney?!"

He also removed his sunglasses, violet eyes revealed behind dark panes of glass. "On second thought…"

Chase spun on his heel when he accidentally caught the rope docking the boat. It looped over the cleat and became loose. The fishing boat was now drifting out to sea. Maybe she should have tried that method instead...

"Looks like you got that ride after all."

.:.

"Don't try to be overly friendly with me. Sharing this boat with you is enough."

"Aren't you as pleasant as ever." Molly shook her head and reclined against the rail while Chase steered the boat. "Just tell me. What are you doing going to Castanet? It's a little obscure, don't you think?"

"Can't be any more obscure than your reason."

She hummed in disagreement. "No, my reason isn't obscure. My best friend—Kathy—lives here. I always told myself, once I graduated from university, I would come and live here. The city is a lonely, glum, stifling place… I hated it. I'm moving here… hoping to have a fresh start, I suppose."

Chase snorted and tossed her a sideward glance. "How optimistic."

"What, and why are you here?" She rounded on him, his sarcasm grating on her nerves. "To refuel that pessimism of yours? I have to say, if that's the case, Castanet isn't the place for you. You belong in the city."

"Don't try and tell me where I belong."

A flash of anger stung his eyes, but the sea breeze soon soothed the emotion into nonchalance. "I was stuck in a rut in that place—a dead-end chef in a dead-end relationship and even living in that apartment that previously housed a dead relationship was getting depressing."

"Oh, don't tell me!" Molly laughed, clapping her hands. "Did the curse of Darren get to you? Maybe you do have good morals, after all."

"Don't kid around. I haven't got a good bone in my body. Satan himself would be lucky to have my soul."

"Which bit of the bible is that from? I seem to recognise it."

"Hilarious," he drawled and pushed up his sunglasses. "Like everything dead in the city, the produce was getting that way too," he continued. "Nothing was fresh. As a chef, what can you do without fresh ingredients? It felt like I was trying to get to the moon with no rocket."

"I mean yeah, I understand that sob story and all, but," he shot her a glare and mimicked her position against the railing. They were sailing through open water and steering wasn't necessary. "Why Castanet? It's not like it's a buzzing hotspot or a place to go on a bucket list."

"It's ironic," he said, his eyes lowered to his hands. "I always thought Maya and I—my ex-girlfriend, that is—would never have any future. She'd loved me since she was eighteen, she had said. I couldn't love her back. I don't think I can really love anyone. I feel like some people are just born like that. Stubbornly unlovable."

Molly's lips parted with surprise. "You've never loved anyone?"

"Attraction and lust, sure. Love? I'd feel defeated to fall in love. It's not in my nature." He flipped off his cap, letting his peach-blonde strands tousle in the breeze. "How did we end up talking about this?" He frowned, berating himself for his loose tongue. "No, what I was saying is that it's ironic I'm moving to Castanet. I'm moving because of Maya."

"Sorry, but that seems like a contradiction."

"Her folks and grandmother live over here. Run some inn or something or other. I don't know the details, nor do I really care. But her grandmother—Yolanda—is a legendary chef. Retired, but Maya—which I still don't know why, what with the way I treated her—put in a good word for me. Studying. That's my reason. Happy now?"

He stared at her with pursed lips and furrowed brows. He was silently blaming her for making him explain his reasoning, despite having spilled the details on his own accord.

"Studying," she groaned, smoothing her tangled hair. "Yeesh, boy am I glad that period of my life is over."

"This may come as a bit of news, but I actually like to cook, not just to fulfil a career path. Creating new things," his eyes gleamed with passion. "It's refreshing."

Molly tapped her nails against the railing. "At university, I studied environmental science."

"What, you want to be a farmer? Well, shoot for the stars, I'd say."

"I didn't particularly want to be a farmer, no," she shook her head and looked out to sea, noticing the formation of an island. "But who really knows what life has in store for us?"

.:.

"Molly!"

Kathy sprinted up the wooden planks of the islands docks towards the boat—which, by some miracle, managed to survive the journey—with the tassels on her cowboy boots matching the pendulum swings of her ponytail.

True to her word, she engulfed Molly into a spine-crushing-hug.

"You said you would call me back!" she reprimanded. "I thought pirates had actually—" she lifted her head from Molly's shoulder, a crooked grin plastered onto her face as she looked towards the boat. "Who's your friend, hon?"

Molly swivelled her body around to see Chase climbing off the boat.

"Friend?" she repeated, "we're not friends!"