Emily hopped onto the bus at the little stop with her usual sense of purpose. There was only one free seat, right next to a chap who looked a smidge older than she was. Emily barely glanced at her travel companion her head was crammed with rather urgent problems, and she had a long seven-hour journey ahead to see her parents. Plenty of time for overthinking.
She sank into the seat as the bus trundled out of the station. A couple of minutes later, her nose twitched, catching the faintest whiff of musk and the sort of coffee that could wake even the dead roasted so dark it practically came with a warning label. The bitter aroma was oddly soothing, dragging Emily off into the archives of her memory.
Heatwave, summer holidays, age seventeen, sprawled in the grass by the Thames. Her favourite heartthrob, William, was with her, smelling exactly like this: a cocktail of freshly brewed coffee and aftershave from Boots. Theyd kissed under a sky full of stars while William whispered impossible promises that theyd be together forever, that hed never leave her for anyone, not even for someone with a better A-level score. Emily had loved him so fiercely shed have thrown her homework into the canal if hed asked.
But fate had other plans, as fate always does. William ended up joining the army and, in classic William fashion, didnt look back; he met someone else in town, tied the knot, and left Emily with nothing but a bruised heart and a deep resentment for all men named William. She couldnt bring herself to date again, still carrying a fondness for William even after ten years and all his spectacular letdowns.
She glanced at her seatmate, just for a split second. Wait no, surely not! Tall, dark hair, blue eyes, a nose posh enough to appear in Tatler, lips that threatened to break into a grin at any moment. The spitting image of William. Emilys heart thudded in her chest, absolutely mortified at itself.
Sorry, your name wouldnt happen to be William, would it? she stammered, bashfully.
He turned and smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. No, Im Tom. Emilys jaw nearly hit her lap, because Tom looked so identical to the William in her memory that she felt the universe had some sort of twisted sense of humour.
And what about you, whats your name? he asked.
I Im Emily. Nice to meet you, she replied, wrestling down the sense that this was all too much like déjà vu.
Toms smile widened, and his voice carried an amused warmth. Charmed, Emily. You know, you really remind me of someone Its rather uncanny.
Oh? Emily tried to sound casual as her heart pounded. And whos that?
My first love, of course. She broke my heart, ran off with some other bloke, and for ten years Ive still not quite managed to let go. And now here you are! You look so much like her I began to doubt my own eyes.
Emily let out a soft laugh, a mix of disbelief and sympathy. Thats incredible. Ive got a story almost identical to yours. You look just like my William lost love from nearly a decade ago. Do you think things like this just happen?
He leaned in, conspiratorial. Well, Emily, why dont we swap numbers? Might as well see where the ride takes us, right?
Absolutely! she grinned.
So, they began chatting, swapping numbers, and knocking down their emotional barricades, one English bus mile at a time. Who knows what might come of it? Perhaps fate is a romantic fool with a penchant for second chances even if it messes up the names along the way. After all, no one ever said the universe has good taste, just a wicked sense of humour.
