Page 1 of Come Fly With Me

When Harry Met Rachel

This story takes place seven years before we first meet Harry and Rachel in Magenta Mine,

Invertary Book 3.

Harry Boyle carried his full lunch tray away from the cafeteria and looked around for a place to sit. He was stuck in an American high school movie. Scratch that, inevery singleAmerican high school movie. Except his drama was playing out in Glasgow University, where he was the only student who was still high school age. Even worse, he didn’t even look his age—he looked younger. Why couldn’t he have been more like his brother, Flynn? When he was fifteen, Flynn had grown a beard and had more muscles than Thor. Actually, now that he thought about it, Captain America was a better comparison. Flynn was theafterversion, and Harry was Steve Rogers before science gave him muscles.

He gave himself a mental head slap. He couldn’t stand there thinking all day; it would attract attention. And attention of any kind was never good. He needed to get out of his head and find a table to eat at. Only, every single one was taken, which meant he had to share—again. That never went well. Bracing himself for the inevitable questions over why a kid his age was at uni, he picked the nearest table with only one person sitting at it and headed over.

“Excuse me,” he said in a voice way too deep for his lanky frame, “do you mind if I sit here?”

The girl wore a bloodred cable-knit sweater that matched the polished nails on the hand holding the latest iPhone. In front of her sat a half-eaten salad. Who ate salad in winter? Actually, who willingly ate salad?

The girl tossed her long, perfectly straight brown hair over her shoulder as she looked up at him. “Do you make weird noises when you eat?”

Okay, he hadn’t been expecting that question. Usually, people asked if he was lost and needed help to find his mum. “I don’t think so.”

“Do you plan on talking to me?” she asked, her English accent so crisp it reminded him of listening to the Queen on TV.

“No. I just want to have lunch.”

She inclined her head. “Then, you may sit.”

Harry put his tray on the round table and pulled out the chair opposite her. Ten seconds later, he was digging into a good old Scotch pie with plenty of chips and baked beans to go with it. It’d taken him two years to accept an offer to attend uni, but he might have done so sooner if he’d realized he could eat like this every day without his mum knowing. No. That wasn’t true. He still would have chosen to stay home in Invertary, just to be close to Maggie. The only reason he’d left was that he had no choice. He couldn’t do the research he wanted for his Master’s degree while he was still at home.

“You do realize there is enough fat in that pie to clog ten arteries,” the girl who didn’t want to talk to him said. “You might as well chug motor oil.”

He blinked at her, wondering if he was allowed to answer or was supposed to remain silent. She stared at him as though waiting for a response, so he gave her one. “I don’t think motor oil would taste this good.”

“Honestly.” She shook her head. “Didn’t your parents explain about vegetables?”

“Well, aye.”

“And don’t you care about your body?”

He looked down at himself. “Uh…” What was there to say?

“How old are you?” the strange girl demanded.

“Nearly sixteen.”

“Just as I thought. Old enough to know better.”

“How old are you?”

“Nineteen.”

He eyed her salad. “You know, you might be in a better mood if you added some chips to that. Want some of mine?” He nudged his plate toward her, hoping she wouldn’t take any of the crisp, steaming golden chips just waiting for him to devour them.

“Certainly not.” She recoiled. “How can your brain function properly if you give it food like that?”

“Trust me,” Harry said, dipping a chip in tomato sauce. “I don’t have a problem with my brain. In fact, if eating like this slows it down a bit, that would be fine with me.” Then he could go back home and hang out with Maggie. Even though he’d chosen Glasgow because it was the closest uni to Invertary, it was still too far away. One more week and they’d break up for Christmas, then he could get back to his best friend. No, she was more than that. She was the girl he planned to marry. She just didn’t know it yet…

“Are you a student here?” the girl said, interrupting his thoughts.

“Aye. Computer science.” He didn’t bother asking if she was a student. It was obvious.

“So, you’re like a genius or something?”