"I was beginning to think you stood me up," Molly said, pushing off of the wall when she saw him.

"Sorry," Andrew apologized. "I overslept."

"Wild rager last night?" she asked with a smirk.

"Hardly," he sighed. "It was just a family party celebrating my brother's birthday. We just had dinner and went to the pub for a few drinks."

"Sounds better than my night," she replied. "Diana's husband had a party that ran until 3 int he morning."

"And Diana is...your friend?" he asked.

She nodded. "Technically, she was my professor at Trinity. But when I mentioned I wanted to stay on here for the summer, she said I could stay in her guest cottage."

"Where does she live?" he asked.

Molly considered him for a moment. "On Kilbride Lane," she replied.

He nodded in recognition. "I know that street. Near Fassaroe Cross?" he asked.

"I guess so. But closer to Roadstone than the cross, I think," she answered.

"Oh, yeah. I know where those houses are. That's a long way to come into town," he remarked. "You didn't walk, did you?" he asked.

She shrugged. "I was just about an hour. I didn't mind it. Gave me time to think."

"You're made of stronger stuff than me," he chuckled, pushing his hair back again.

"I didn't know you wore glasses," she commented, walking ahead of him. He had to follow to hear what she was saying. "They suit you."

He sheepishly pushed them back up his nose. "Thanks. So," he rubbed his hands together. "What do you want to see first?"

Molly stopped and looked at him. "Surprise me."

His stomach grumbled. "Why don't we start with breakfast and go from there?" he suggested. "On me, of course."

"Cool. Lead on, Magellan," she quipped, following him along the building and inside.

The morning rush had dissipated and most of the tables were empty in Leo's. They ordered coffees and pastries and took a seat near the back of the cafe.

"So what were you studying at Trinity?" he asked, leaning forward over the table.

"Law. I was doing a semester abroad as part of their international law program," Molly explained. "I'm in the law program back at Berkeley."

"Berkeley. Wow. That's uh...that's really impressive," he answered, suddenly feeling slightly self-conscious. He knew enough about American universities to know that Berkeley was a big deal. "So you want to become a lawyer? Do you have a field you'd like to focus on?"

"I'm not sure yet. When I was - thank you," she said quickly as the barista dropped off their drinks. "When I was at Trinity, I took two classes focusing on international and human rights law. It really caught my attention. So maybe that."

"That's really admirable. I wish I had the intelligence to do that," he chuckled, sipping his coffee. "So how many years do you have left before you become a barrister - er - lawyer?" he asked.

"I'll be in my second year of law school this fall," she smirked, tearing open a sugar packet and dumping it into her coffee. "Another year after that and I'm officially a lawyer. Then I try to find a firm to join or something like that."

"Sounds like you've got it all figured out," he smiled.

"What do you do, Magellan?" she joked.

"I'm...ah...a musician," he answered carefully, avoiding eye contact as he swirled his coffee cup around. "Singer/songwriter."

"Really?" Molly took a bite of her pain au chocolat. "Like, locally here? Or...?"

He bought himself some time, taking a sip while he weighed his options. He could tell her and hope she didn't recognize him or he could lie to her. After all, she was only in town for a few more months. And it wasn't like they even had to see each other again after today. But, the town wasn't that big; if he was going to be showing her around, there was a pretty good chance one of the locals would say something that would tip her off. She hadn't shown any sign of knowing who he was so far.

Fuck it. Honesty is best, right?

"Not really. More...international," he said slowly.

"Written anything I might have heard?" she asked.

The moment of truth.

"Yeah, actually," he replied.

"No shit! Are you serious? That's so cool!" she exclaimed, her brown eyes lighting up as she smiled.

"I mean, I guess it depends if you listen to that type of music and all that," he said bashfully.

"Go on then," she urged. "Sing me something."

He was hesitant. "I - I don't think so."

"Why not? Come on," she needled.

He looked around and sighed, suddenly aware of the other people around them. Even though he had mostly conquered his stage fright, performing on demand was still quite difficult for him. He didn't want to draw attention to himself. But she was looking at him so expectantly, with so much light and excitement on her face, that he couldn't say no. He cleared his throat and a slight cold sweat broke out on his back.

"Take me to church,
I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies,
I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife,
Offer me that deathless death,
Good God let me give you my life."

He was a little flat in some places, and sharp in others, but when he opened his eyes to look at her, Molly's face was frozen in a mixture of awe and intrigue.

"Have you heard it?" he asked cautiously.

She sat in silence for a few seconds. "Can't say I have," she smiled.

He rolled his eyes, annoyed that she made sing. "What type of music do you listen to, then?" he asked, wanting the attention off of him.

She thought for a bit. "All sorts of things, really. I tend to prefer instrumental pieces instead though. I think lyrics can be distracting."

"But aren't lyrics the whole point of a song?" he asked dumbly, shocked by her matter-of-fact response. "I mean, obviously classical music is in its own class. But lyrics tell the story - the meaning."

She considered his statement before pulling out her iPhone and a pair of earbuds. "Yes and no. Here," she offered him an earbud as she scrolled through her music. "Listen to this and tell me what you think."

"Now We Are Free" from Gladiator filled his ears. The familiar rise and fall and earthy tones of Lisa Gerrard's voice washed over him, giving him goosebumps. It was a familiar song and when it was over, he had an idea of what Molly was trying to say.

"Lisa Gerrard isn't singing in any language," Molly explained. "She's literally singing gibberish. And without it, the song would still have that vast, sweeping anthemic quality its known for. Zimmer even says that she's on the track only as a female presence to mimic the female presence in the film. So in this case, the lyrics don't matter - the feeling is still the same."

He didn't know if he should be surprised that she had such a grasp of the song's message, insulted because she didn't understand the power and role of lyrics in songs, or stupid because he didn't catch her meaning sooner. He settled on surprise and decided to sort the rest out later.

"I didn't know music theory was part of a law degree these days," he joked, slightly miffed.

She chuckled and rolled her eyes. "I just happen to have a different way of looking at music. Most popular music these days is just synthesized and over produced. I want to listen to something authentic that real people make. Not something you can set up with a computer," she explained. "Give me sweeping guitar solos and heart-pounding drum beats. Give me lyrics that mean something and send a message."

"You seem to have very strong feelings about this," he chuckled. He bit into his croissant with a smile.

"I wouldn't make a very good lawyer if I couldn't argue my case," she quipped with a shrug. "Take me to church - is that a reference to religion?" she asked.

"Ehm, its actually a love song," he chuckled.

"Doesn't sound like it," she replied.

"Here," he took her phone and opened YouTube. After a quick search, he found a lyric video for the song and hit play, giving her both earbuds. "Your turn. Listen and read."

He tried to look anywhere but her face as she listened. It was always awkward to watch people listen to his music. Leo was behind the counter, filling up the bean grinder. Andrew watched as the beans filled the clear plastic tank, falling from the sack like little dark brown droplets. They reminded him of Molly's eyes. He drummed on the table lightly and bit his lips, waiting for the video to finish. She looked up when it was over, taking the earbuds out of her ears.

"Tell me what you heard," he said, splaying his fingers out wide on the table.

"You make quite the statement about religion," she commented.

He tilted his head. "In a way, yes. What else do you hear?"

She thought for a second. "I don't know. Something about a lover?"

He nodded. "Anything else?"

"Unless I'm missing something?" she asked, shaking her head.

He smiled and leaned forward. "At its heart, its a song about sex," he shrugged. "I'm basically saying that being...with this specific girl brings me closer to heaven than any type of indoctrinated religion."

"Lucky girl," Molly remarked with a smirk. "Must have been quite talented to have a song written about her."

He rolled his eyes. "Do those lyrics meet your requirements?" he asked, ignoring her comment.

"They do. I don't think I'd have picked up on the deeper meaning on my own," she admitted. "Its a very good song. Do you write songs about all the girls you're with?" she asked.

He blushed at her suggestion, but chose to fight fire with fire. She was obviously trying to make him feel uncomfortable. "Only the ones that leave an impression worthy of a song," he replied, adding a slight edge to his voice. "Are you musical at all?" he asked. "Do you play any instruments or sing?"

"Dude, I can't carry a tune in a bucket," she said seriously.

He burst into laughter. "Come on, you never learned to play anything in school?"

"I mean, I play a mean Mary Had a Little Lamb on a recorder, but that's about it," she said with a smile. "My brain isn't set up for music. Maybe that's why I'm becoming a lawyer."

"Fair enough," he said before draining his coffee. He swallowed his last bite of croissant and wiped his hands off. "Ready to go?" he asked.

"So Hozier - that's what you go by?" she asked, ignoring his question.

"Its my mum's maiden name," he explained. "I dunno why I picked it. Maybe to honor her. I'm not sure. Sounds better than Andrew Byrne, I think."

"That it does, Magellan," she smirked. "Where do you want to take me next?" she asked.

He hemmed for a second and ran his hand through his hair. "Have you seen the harbour?" he asked.

"Not really. Most of my time in town has been spent with kids," Molly answered. "Kids and open water don't really mix."

He nodded in understanding. "True. Ready?" he asked, unfolding to his full length as he stood.

She stood, looking at him. "Jesus, you're tall."

He smiled and gestured for her to walk ahead of him. Her head came up to his shoulder, even in her flat sandals. "So are you."

Her skirt fluttered in the ocean breeze as they walked. He found himself staring at her bare shoulders as she walked ahead of him. He caught up to her quickly and fell into stride with her easily. Seagulls flew overhead, calling out to one another as they floated on the drafts.

"Did, uh, did anyone ever tell you that you should be a model?" he asked as they walked.

"Andrew, I'm from Los Angeles. I'm 5'9". Of course people have offered," she answered. "I just don't think I'd be good at it."

He had to do a bit of mathematical gymnastics to convert the feet and inches into centimeters. "Why not? You're b-," he caught himself.

She stopped in her tracks, in the middle of the sidewalk, and looked at him. She had to squint because the sun was in her eyes. "What?"

He got the distinct feeling that she knew what he was going to say. Her eyes challenged him to complete his sentence. Jesus H. Christ, Andy. You're a fecking mess, he thought to himself. You don't know this girl from Eve and you're already coming onto her. She might have a boyfriend or someone! Back the fuck up! But there was the tiniest of voices also pushing him to speak freely. He got the impression that Molly was not one to mince words with.

"I - I was saying that I think you're beautiful. Of course you'd do well if you wanted to become a model," he said, clearing his throat and pushing his hair behind his ear for the fiftieth time since he'd seen her today.

"Hm," was all she said in response before continuing her walk. He was left standing there, slightly dumbfounded by her lack of speech. "Are you going to show me the harbour or not?" she called over her shoulder.

He shook his head to clear it and jogged along the path after her. "Just up here on the right," he said, pointing to a side road that jogged off the main road past a car park.

The tide was out, so the boats were sitting on the bottom of the harbour as sea birds dug around the sodden earth, looking for various sea creatures to eat. Molly walked along the sea wall, causing several ducks to quack loudly at her.

"Oh, piss off," she told them, waving them away.

Andrew smiled to himself. The sun shone down on them, bouncing off of the ocean below. "You can walk all the way to the end of the road there," he told her.

Molly pulled her phone out and took a photo of the ocean and the horizon. "Its gorgeous," she said, sitting on the salt-covered concrete and letting her feet dangle over the edge.

"Don't you have anything like this in L.A.?" he asked, sitting next to her.

"Kind of. I think the closest we've got is Santa Monica Pier. But even then, its always packed with people. You could never just come and sit like this," she replied. "I think there might be more birds and boats than humans here right now."

"Its usually like this," he said. "Most people come here for the golf or the hiking. The locals are really the only people that come out here."

She looked over at him, her hair fluttering around her head like an ebony halo. She was squinting again, her nose wrinkling slightly.

"Here," he said, offering her the sunglasses he'd slid into the collar of his shirt before leaving his house that morning.

"Are you sure?" she asked apprehensively. "Don't you need them?"

He shook his head. "Its fine. I don't mind."

She slid them on and smiled. "How do I look?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.

He took a quick picture and showed her. "You look pretty damn good, if I do say so myself."

She looked at the photo and looked back at him over the top rims of the glasses. "Why thank you." She considered her reflection. "I look like a Bond villain. I like it."

He chuckled and took his phone back. "So what do you do back home? To pay for law school?" he asked.

"Oh you know, the usual. Stripping. Street corners," she said offhandedly. "I've got a pretty good relationship with a weed dealer, which helps."

He wasn't sure if he should believe her or not. As much as the image of her on a stripper pole made parts of him tingle, he wasn't sure if she was being serious. She watched his reaction and a slight grin spread across her full lips. He was at a disadvantage when her eyes were hidden.

"Student loans, Magellan," she patted his leg lightly. "I did the same thing every other person that goes to college in America did: I sold my soul to the United States Treasury at 6.5 percent interest daily."

He hissed and shook his head. "That's absurd. How much is it costing you?"

Molly tilted her head. "Let's just say, I'd need to be on the pole for several years to pay it off."

He laughed and shook his head. "I thought strippers made good money?"

"They do - tax-free, too. But shit's expensive. Hell, Berkeley's expensive. It's expensive to just live in America," she sighed.

"You could always move here," he joked, sticking his tongue out at her.

"Can't. There aren't any strip clubs," she deadpanned, making him burst into laughter again. "Can I ask you something?" she asked.

"You just did," he replied, making a face at her.

"Oh aren't we a smart ass," she remarked, sticking her tongue out again. "Do you think being a lawyer is a good career?" she asked.

The mood between them changed in an instant. He could tell she was being incredibly serious and expected a serious response. Though, he wondered why she'd be asking him, a complete stranger, for his opinion. Still, he considered his response carefully before speaking. A gull cried overhead as it soared out toward the rocks on either side of the harbor walls.

"I think its an admirable profession, if done for the right reasons," he said carefully. "I think its a career that allows you to effect a lot of change, if you go about things the right way. And I think it has the power to really change people's lives. Why do you want to become one?"

"I want to help people who need it," she said simply, staring out across the water.

He watched her for a few moments as the wind played with her hair and the sun kissed her skin. "Then I think you'll make a great lawyer," he said finally.

They sat like that for another fifteen minutes, in total silence, just admiring the view. It had been a long time since Andrew had actually sat and looked out at the ocean in his hometown. There was a certain peace to all of it. It wasn't lost on him that the same waves that licked at the shoreline today had done so for hundreds of years before. But after a while, his ass started to get numb.

"Have you been to the beach yet?" he asked, standing.

He held out a hand to help her to her feet. She swung up and lost her balance slightly on the edge of the wall. He swiftly moved her away, catching her before she could fall.

"Thanks," she smiled. "No, I haven't. But isn't it just rocks and pebbles?" she asked.

"Bray's beach is," he answered, leading her back up the road. "But the beach over there," he pointed to the other side of the harbour. "It's actually sand and really gorgeous."

"I mean, I might be biased, but California has some of the best beaches in the world," she argued as they walked.

"They do," he replied. "But they're almost always packed. The ones here usually aren't busy."

He led her back along the sea wall and across a one-lane bridge. A small grouping of tin buildings clustered on the rise of a small hill. Andrew walked down a sandy dirt path that ended in a steep slope leading to smooth rocks. He held out his hand again to help guide her down. He smiled when Molly squeaked a bit as the sand moved across her toes.

"Take your shoes off," he demanded, kneeling down to untie his own sneakers. He peeled his socks off and tucked them inside his shoes after shaking the sand out.

Molly slid her sandals off and held them in one hand while she lifted the hem of her skirt with the other. The fabric clung to her legs as the wind buffeted against it. She brushed hair from her face as she let the wind flow over her.

"Why is it so much windier here than it was up there?" she asked, taking a step toward him.

"I have no idea," he answered back with a laugh. "Stick your feet in!"

He walked to the edge of the water, allowing the waves to wash over his bare feet. He felt the familiar chill run up his legs as the icy waves hit the sand. The sand squelched around his feet as the waves ebbed and flowed around them. Andrew watched Molly dip her feet in and let out a yelp of surprise, drawing a howl of laughter from him. Just then, a strong wave came in, causing her to lose her footing. She windmilled her arms, trying to steady herself, but it was Andrew that kept her from face planting. 

"Jesus Christ!" she exclaimed with a mixture of annoyance and laughter.

He took her hand and led her away from the water, where they sank down into the sand. His sunglasses fell from her face and he picked them up, dusted them off, and slid them carefully back onto her face, tucking some hair behind her ear.

"Do you bring all the girls here?" she quipped, quirking an eyebrow at him.

"Only the ones I want to get wet," he stuck his tongue out at her, internally praying she got the joke and didn't think he was a creeper.

"Look at you, making vulgar jokes," she replied in kind. "You're gonna have to work a lot harder than that to get me wet, though."

"Oh yeah?" he countered, a slight smirk on his lips. "I should definitely get to work then."

"You should, Magellan," she smiled.

"Why do you keep calling me that?" he asked, leaning back into the dunes behind them.

"Isn't it obvious?" she asked, sliding his sunglasses down and setting her eyes on him. "First circumnavigation of the world?" she offered. "You're showing me around...all that jazz?"

He chuckled. "Fair enough. I'll take it. But you could just call me Andy."

Molly shook her head. "Nope. It makes me think of Toy Story. And that movie made me cry."

He laughed. "Fine. Andrew works just as well. Can't have you crying all the time."

He looked over at her as she lounged in the sand next to him. Her tank top rose up just slightly as she stretched out, revealing a swath of olive skin. His eyes lingered on it, but he shook his head to clear it. Time and place, Andrew.

The rest of the day went by faster than he would have liked. They sat on the beach for some time before Molly decided she'd had enough. Andrew led her through town along a residential street, pointing out different places he would go in his youth. It was different, coming back after being gone for so long. Everything looked smaller; he'd seen the world twice over and his little resort hometown paled in comparison. Still, there was a certain sense of comfort in rediscovering all of these new places with a different perspective.

They got a late lunch at Jasmine House before Molly decided she should start the long walk back to her guest cottage. Despite her protests, he insisted on walking her back part of the way. They got to Fassaroe Cross and she hopped up onto a low stone wall along the side of the road, holding her arms out for balance. The afternoon sun was starting to move toward the horizon and it flickered through the leaves on the trees above their heads, casting her in light.

She stopped when the road started to curve around. "Thanks for today. I had a lot of fun," she said, sliding his sunglasses off. She blinked as her eyes adjusted to the light.

"It was my pleasure," he replied, smiling as she slid the glasses into the collar of his shirt. "Anytime."

"Give me your phone," she said, holding out her hand. He obliged and watched as she typed something. "Now you have my number. Next time you're free, maybe we can get together again and you can show me more."

He didn't get a chance to decide if that last bit was an innuendo on her part or not because the next thing he knew, Molly planted a gentle kiss on his lips and hopped down. It was all he could do to offer his hand to steady her.

"See you later, Andrew," she said as she wandered up the road.

He stood there for several seconds before blinking rapidly. He didn't even mind that he had to take the long way back home.