When Mum had first suggested helping Greg out, I'd assumed it would be a straightforward job. He wasn't the world's most organised bloke, but running the arcade for thirty years was an achievement; he had to have been doing something right. Perhaps there would be a slight backlog where the books had got messy, a few things out of order that'd thrown everything else off, but nothing that couldn't be salvaged.

Unfortunately, the surprise arrived on my first day.

"Now, I know it looks disorganised, but I promise there's order to the chaos," he was saying, pulling down yet another box from the office shelf. Several papers fell out as it hit the desk, which he scrambled to pick up from the floor. "Everything money-related for the past few years, I've put in here. I don't throw away anything, you know, because it might be important later on. But these last few months... well, I've had my mind on other things – you know how it is when it's busy here. I may have got myself into a little bit of a muddle."

He opened the lid of the box, and the wedge of paper inside sprung up instantly, the pressure suddenly released. It looked like a complete mess, and I had plenty of reasons to doubt that there was 'order to the chaos'. My bedroom, with a few clothes strewn across the floor and just one too many unwashed mugs, was organised chaos. This style of bookkeeping, with no conceivable system whatsoever, was not.

"And you want me to—"

"Sort through it, yes," Greg said, like this was the kind of job that would take an afternoon, not all summer. "I did try keeping track on the computer for a while. That was fine, until I lost a fair few numbers and everything past it went a bit pear-shaped. Still, with your fancy degree I don't suppose it'll be a problem!"

I wasn't sure the fanciest degree in the world would be enough to tackle this, but I didn't like to say so. "Right," I said instead, "okay."

"I've cleared you a little space in the office, see," he said, gesturing to the small patch of desk he'd swiped the mess from. There had, of course, been no attempt at tidying – just what looked like a sweep of the arm to move everything to one side. But there was at least some clear space, for which I had to feel grateful. "You can work out back here, come and go as you want. I'm flexible on the hours, see, as long as the job gets done."

The longer I looked at the box, the more doubts I was having that this job would be finished by the end of summer, but it wasn't the kind of concern I wanted to voice on my first day. "Sure," I said. "Sounds good."

"I'll be in and out, anyway, if you've got any burning questions," he continued. "Erin, too. And I should have some new staff coming in for the summer, so you won't find it too lonely."

I forced a smile, one I hoped looked genuine. "Great."

"So I guess I'll leave you to it." He looked up at me, our eyes meeting above the untidy space, and I suddenly felt guilty for all the negative thoughts. There was a genuine gratefulness all over his face, a real relief that somebody was coming in and sorting out what he'd muddling through for so long. I really did want to help, and he was offering a decent wage to do it. So perhaps I had to have a more positive outlook. "Let me know if you need anything, but other than that, you can get started."

"No problem," I said. "Thanks, Greg."

The office felt noticeably quiet once he'd gone, though the faint sounds of arcade games could still be heard through the wall. I pulled out a chair and sunk into it, eyeing up the boxes in front of me with a sense of mild dread. If I'd wanted a challenge, this was certainly it.

The morning went quicker than I expected. Even the first step – taking all the documents and papers out of the box and sorting them into date order – was time-consuming, and with the intensifying heat of the office I found myself breaking a sweat. Before long, an uncomfortable stickiness had settled on the back of my neck, and when I couldn't take it any longer I went in search of a fan that had been stashed under the desk somewhere. Surprisingly, it was easy to get lost in the mountain of work, and by the time my stomach let out its first growl of hunger I couldn't believe the time. The hours had slipped past, escaping my notice.

I got up shortly afterward, leaving the paperwork as it was, strewn across the computer keyboard and ruffling slightly in the breeze of the fan. The morning warmth had turned into another day of blazing sunshine, which hit me square in the face as soon as I emerged on the pier. I hadn't packed lunch, and with the intention to treat myself on the first day, headed toward the beach in pursuit of a fish and chip pit stop.

I wouldn't admit it to anyone, but Walden fish and chips beat London by a landslide.

With the weekend drawing closer, the beach was even busier than yesterday, and the sounds of summer chaos swelled around me. Kids on the shore screeched as cold water hit their shins, mothers called after swimmers who had ventured too far out, and seagulls circled on a search for unattended food. I headed off the pier and onto the beach, feeling pebbles crunching underfoot where I wished I could feel sand. The chip shop was in view, now just a short walk away, but with such a thick crowd in between it felt like the trek of a lifetime.

The walk took me past the lifeguard's hut, a red-and-yellow flag rippling in the breeze beside it. I spared a glance for the lifeguard on duty, a strikingly pretty dark-skinned girl, perched atop the chair and looking out across the beach. She wasn't one I recognised – but then, almost suddenly, I remembered I'd been away for three years.

By the time I returned to the office, cardboard box of cod and chips in hand, the walk in the sun had left me sweaty and uncomfortable. I'd spared no thought for sun cream this morning, assuming I'd be stuck inside all day, but now I was wondering whether my extra-pale sun-intolerant skin would sizzle on the way home. In an attempt to cool off, I positioned myself directly in front of the fan, squinting at my bare arms to see if they showed any signs of burning.

And it was at this moment that the door opened.

"Hey, do you mind if I—oh."

I had my back to it, facing the fan instead, but the single surprised word had me freezing on the spot. Like some kind of reflex, my heart skipped a beat. That voice... that familiar voice, one I hadn't heard in so long. It couldn't be.

I spun around, half-afraid of what I was going to find. When my eyes locked with the person standing in the doorway, my fear was confirmed.

"Sydney?"

My own voice escaped without real thought, a breathy word that came all at once. "Owen."

Saying it aloud had a kind of permanence that scared me, like this marked the moment it became real – even though he was quite clearly stood there, and a word out of my mouth hadn't changed that. There was no mistaking the overgrown mop of brown curls, the thick frames that meant he could never wear sunglasses, the signature polo never replaced by any other kind of shirt. Much like the rest of Walden, it didn't look like Owen had changed in three years.

"Sydney." He'd already said this once, but with awkwardness now stifling us instead of the heat, he seemed to forget. "I, uh... didn't expect to find you here."

"No," I said. "Same goes for you."

I couldn't believe it. Every doubt I'd had about returning to Walden culminated in that one moment, hitting me in a single blow. If I were to make a list of things I least wanted to revisit from the last few years, the boy standing before me would've been top every time. As I stared back at him, totally lost for words, I could only think of the last time we'd been face-to-face.

Which was, of course, the time I dumped him.

Bumping into exes was awkward; that was a fact of life. But there was something worse about being confronted with Owen, especially since the reason for our breakup was so painfully obvious. We'd known it at the time, and we knew it now – that it was less of a real problem, and a lot more the fact I hadn't wanted to be tied down at uni.

Did that make me a bad person? I still wasn't sure. It wasn't a crime to want to move into a new flat without strings attached. I'd wanted to feel free, for once in my life not trapped inside the confines of Walden-on-Sea. I wanted to be able to eye up the fit guy next door without the stab of guilt, to spend evenings with new friends rather than tied to Skype, to head out to clubs without worrying about what my boyfriend would think.

None of that was a crime. But it had broken Owen's heart in the process, so I didn't think I could count myself a saint.

"You're, uh..." He ran a hand through his hair, visibly struggling for words. "Here. You're here. And I'm here too. Here on the hunt for a manager, but now a curious part of me is wondering whether that's you too..."

"I'm not a manager," I said quickly. I could've sworn I saw him breathe a sigh of relief. "I think Greg should be out on the floor somewhere. He's just, uh, got me in here for the summer doing the books."

"Oh." I studied Owen's shift of expression, not quite able to work it out. There was the hint of a smile, potentially friendly, and yet I couldn't bring myself to trust this judgment. "So you've progressed, huh? No longer slogging it out on the front line."

"Not anymore," I said, with a wary smile of my own. "I guess they really weren't kidding when they said degrees opened up doors for you, right?"

He laughed, but the sound was short-lived, as if quickly realising what – or who – he was dealing with. And when the quiet descended again, so did the awkwardness. "I, um, should probably go find Greg. There's something I needed to ask him. You said he was out on the floor?"

"Yeah, I think so." I was pretty sure he remembered this, since I couldn't have said it more than sixty seconds ago, but was rather frantically searching for snippets of conversation. At one point in the past, we'd never been able to shut up, but this seemed like a lifetime ago now.

I was about to let him leave, mostly because he looked like he really wanted to, but the obvious occurred to me then. He was looking for Greg, the owner, the same guy he'd worked for three years ago. But surely that couldn't mean...?

"What do you need him for?" I asked, perhaps too quickly. I had to tread carefully; there was information I wanted, but the awkwardness between us limited what I could actually go after. Times had changed, even if Owen hadn't, and it wasn't the summer before university anymore. "Don't tell me he's roped you into being one of his summer staff."

It came across as a joke, but the real meaning was there nonetheless: please don't tell me you're working here, too.

Once again, he ran a hand through his hair, reminding me how much this nervous gesture had irritated me three years ago. "Not quite," he said. "I just heard it was difficult to get staff nowadays – you know, all the kids want to work someplace cooler than this. And I'm here all summer, working on some of my own stuff, but I figured I could spare some time if this place was ever in dire need. You know, as an experienced token exchanger."

"Right," I said, "of course."

I tried to keep my tone upbeat, but in reality there were alarm bells going off in my head. Owen being here at the arcade, even on an hoc basis, meant bumping into him a lot more than necessary. In a town as small as Walden, some contact was inevitable, but being forced to spend time with my ex-boyfriend on a regular basis was something I hadn't envisioned upon returning home. I'd assumed that period of my life was well behind me, but I wasn't so lucky.

"Anyway," he said, sensing our conversational abilities had reached their limit, "I better head out. Maybe I'll see you around?"

"Yeah." I nodded. "Maybe."

"Okay, cool. See you."

I'd never been so relieved to see the office door close behind him, his retreating footsteps lost under the sound of clattering coins and video games. The breath that escaped me felt like it had been trapped inside forever.

My cardboard box lunch still sat on the desk, losing heat rapidly, but my appetite had vanished. Twisting nausea had instead settled in the pit of my stomach. I still couldn't believe the last five minutes. And yet, at the same time, I was kicking myself for not expecting it. Of course Owen would be back here. He was a total home bird – in fact, even calling him that was a total understatement. Of all the people here, I'd never known anyone so settled in Walden. In that respect, we'd always been polar opposites, even when dating. While I'd been counting down the days until I moved away, my then-boyfriend had chosen a university as close to home as possible, allowing him to come home on weekends. He'd never seen it as an opportunity to create a whole new life – just a new chapter of his existing one.

I suppose that way, at least, made for less of a shock upon coming home. Maybe he'd been onto something.

Still, there was nothing I could do to change it now. We'd made our respective decisions, even if, three years later, they'd led us back to the same place. What once had been two lives so closely interlinked had become very much parallel.

We were both in Walden, but as I settled back into the desk to start sifting through Greg's paperwork once more, I realised Owen and I now stood worlds apart.

Funny how that worked out.

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So here's the second chapter! Fun fact: about two minutes ago, I was in bed, lights off, under the duvet and trying to sleep when I remembered I promised on Twitter that I'd upload this today. So here I am, in the light again, posting my chapter for you. (It's okay. I couldn't sleep anyway.)

I'm thinking of setting Sunday as my upload day (SUNday for SUNburn updates, geddit?!), which might also motivate me to churn out chapters. If I start slacking, please shout at me over the internet.

Blown away by the love and support on the first chapter, so keep it coming! I appreciate you guys so much.

- Leigh