"Noah is going to be back in two days!" I excitedly tell Luke, spilling over the contents of my bag. Madeleine leaps up to help me and Lucas who's already sitting next to me starts organising everything on the table so that I can easily put everything back in its rightful position.

"That's so exciting," Lucas smiles, "have you been missing him?"

"Like hell!"

"Although I bet Rafe took some of that pain away, huh?" Madeleine laughs wickedly. "Does Noah know how serious you guys are?" And she raises her eyebrows suggestively.

"Oh my god, Madeleine! You need to learn basic people skills. You can't just say things like that! How do you even know this stuff?" Okay. I knew they were good 'detectives' or whatever, but seriously, intruding on, uh, sexual relationships, seems excessive and unethical?

"What? I just meant that you literally live together." She smirks. "But if there's anything you want to add, then sure, Evie!"

Grrrr. This girl. Lucas rakes a hand through his fluffy hair, shaking his head slightly, but there is the glimmer of a smile on his face.

"You seem a lot happier now, Evie." Awh, Lucas, I draw him, and drag a hesitant Madeleine too, into a hug. And for a few seconds we are wrapped up, all drawn into a loving embrace before Madeleine wiggles indignantly.

"Why the hell do you carry sugar in your bag?" I honestly don't know how that got in there and have no explanation but Lena's concentration wanders before I can even attempt to answer. "Oh my gosh, is this the sugar that you poured on Elio?"

"Well, obviously not- it's unopened, see Lena," Lucas takes it from her and she doesn't even frown at his slightly disparaging tone, "but I'm assuming that there were the Same brand, from the Same place. It's brown sugar. Raw. From Deluca."

Deluca? I don't even know where that is. How can he even tell? There's no café name even on the little paper sachet, just a cacophony of beige whorls and curlicues set against a deep chocolate brown background and a small tan triangle that reads RAW in minuscule letters. I throw him a questioning eyebrow and he grins.

"We went to all the cafés in town during the holidays once, writing down and learning to instantly recall several identifying factors. You never know what you could find at a crime scene!"

Lena snatches the sugar sachet away from him and he rolls his eyes and huffs hyperbolically at her incessant need to be the centre of attention but you can see fondness for her in his eyes. "Deluca's on the very edge of town, Evie, near the Astoria forest, and the cliff." Right! I have been there.

Lucas goes to reach for the sugar again but she dances out of reach and a bubble of laughter escapes from him. He manages to pin her to the table and she giggles and flips him over, once again, sliding away from him as she examines the paper.

I've decided that I want to play the piano at their wedding. But I guess that'll only ever happen when they -if they!- realise their love for each other, which, at this moment, seems practically impossible. How could you be so blind to love?

Finally, Madeleine puts the sugar down. Lucas doesn't even reach for it. Does he know that he's in love with Lena? She breathes out slightly and then draws my name out, breaking apart the syllables and I know that she has an important question to ask me. "Ev-ie?"

"Yes, Lena?" And she makes eye contact with me, an expression of concern washing over her face. Madeleine's never been very good at dealing with human emotions, Lucas is the one who excels at empathy. It is usually Lena's job to wield the Aristotelian mode of persuasion, pathos, to coerce others -"witnesses", typically- to divulge classified information to her, but I can see that she is truly trying.

"Are you, uh, are you alright? After... Elio. Or Three Sugars, and that incident?" She fumbles over her words and suddenly I feel that I want to cry. Lucas seems surprised at her gentle question and I see him cast her a proud look, and I realise that he did not put her up to this. He turns to me, and so they're both looking at me. There is hesitance in the air. Have they broached some imaginary student-tutor boundary? To hell with such conventions. I love these kids. And even though I'm a few years older than them, I truly do consider them my friends.

"Yes," I wonder if I can blame my contact lenses for the tears that start to roll down my face. "Thank you... thank you both."

"For what?" Madeleine looks confused. "Why are you crying? Should I not have said that? Oh, Evie, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. Oh, I am so clueless about this. Please forgive me. I'm sorry-"

"Del," Lucas whispers, "I think they're happy tears."

"Oh!"

"Awh, you guys." And this time, they tumble into the hug and my heart feels so happy and full of love.

When they finally let me go, Lucas holds one of my arms gently, and Madeleine rests her hand on my shoulder, both staring at me, holding me so delicately that it is as if I am stamped with FRAGILE! I wipe the tears from my eyes, and gently shrug away from their arms, whispering thank you before I excuse myself to the bathroom. I can only imagine what Lena's parents would say to see their daughter's tutor crying and being consoled by their child and her best friend and so I hurriedly clear away the salty remnants of the tears, and try to splash away the blotchiness on my face, before I quietly scurry down the stairs, taking care to try not to disturb her parents or any of the other staff who may be inside the house.

*

My light footsteps are a stark juxtaposition to the heavy clatter that usually accompanies me as I clumsily trip over stairs or coffee tables that I think that Lucas and Lena don't hear me. Or maybe dismiss my steps as those of a maid or housekeeper or somebody, and so I catch the whispered shreds of a quiet conversation.

"Do you think she knows...?"

"No! Of course not!"

My heart tightens. And then starts to beat faster and faster. It's secrets like these that tear apart all my relationships. I edge the door open, letting the hinges squeak slightly.

"Does she know what?" I say loudly. A few minutes ago, I felt so loved, and now I feel betrayed. Again.

Luca glances up, guilt etched across his face, and Madeleine, abruptly drops something to the table. My air pods? What is she doing with them?

"Sorry, Evie!" Lucas cries. "We were tidying up the stuff that fell out of your bag and we found your air pods and we were, uh-" A blush fills his cheeks. I notice that a crimson hue has spread through Madeleine's face too. But compared to Lucas whose gorgeous dark skin tone masks much of the blood rushing to his face, Lena looks evidently embarrassed.

"Oh, Evie. I mean, we know you would never do this. You're too good! But we were wondering if you'd, uh, ever used the live listen feature, you know? On air pods, to eavesdrop no other people's conversations. I mean, we do sometimes." Lucas tenses slightly and Lena looses a long breath. "Okay, all the time, but like, do you know how many schoolyard cases we have solved that way?"

Oh. Is that all? I thought they were hiding secrets about me. Oh, Evie, learn to trust.

I laugh, the sound haphazardly bursting from me.

"Right. Well, no, I've never used it. Care to show me?" Their worried expressions disappear and we abandon some newspaper articles they'd been asked to annotate, brushing the papers across the table. We're actually a few weeks ahead of schedule, as we'd finished the current set work and Lena and Lucky had been asking their English teacher for work for the weeks to come. So, it's alright that we're playing around with the eavesdrop feature on my airpods instead of studying. We spend twenty minutes "live listening" to the staff around the house and Lena shrieks when she finds out that the gardener is slightly in love with one of the maids, swearing she'll set them up. But apart from that, the rest of our study session is uneventful.

*

That night, I walk to the restaurant Pellegrini's to meet Rafe, Lara and Gareth. There is the light scent of blossoms in the cool air and I smile realising that it's almost the beginning of spring. I'm no longer scared to walk the streets at night, nor scared of intimacy with Rafe, now that Elio is gone. Although there is the omnipresent thought that he could be anywhere, that he could return back here, that quietly lingers in my mind, I actually feel safer. No longer so scared. But then again, I am still haunted by my dreams, the memories of my past.

Luminescent street lamps pepper the street, elaborate curls of iron that unfurl into intricate swirls that encase golden orbs of light. A few moths flitter about the air, repeatedly throwing their bodies against the glass of the lamps. Wanting what they can never have.

A few people mill about, clasping paper cups of late night frozen yogurt, taking advantage of the Half price froyo below 10°C! deal that will remain for only a few more days. Their breath comes out in clouds of condensation as they hustle past me, chattering quietly, and I follow the trails of mist through their air until the disappear beyond the reaches of the glow of the street lamps.

Finally, I see the restaurant name. Red block letters, all capitalised, reading Pellegrini's. The letters sit atop the store front and I stand below them as I peer into the glass window and I feel the whisper of a smile form on my face as I look past my reflection into the warmly lit restaurant.

I'm running slightly late but I don't rush, and instead take a moment to look at my friends. Gareth sits in a booth -which is the Same colour as the letters of the restaurant name- with Lara, his arm casually slung over her shoulder, at ease. Rafe sits opposite, one arm on the table. They're all laughing together at some joke that Gareth has made and I suddenly feel that I am intruding. They look perfect together, the kind of scene you'd take a Polaroid of. Even if they were people you didn't know, especially if they were people you didn't know. I actually snap a picture on my phone; a snapshot of that feeling you get when you know your place in the world, when you just belong. I hesitate for a few seconds, and my gaze is drawn away from the setting before me to the eyes of my reflection.

The girl who stares back at me still has dark shadows beneath her eyes which encapsulate this sad haunted look. She doesn't belong with those people before her. She is cursed, remember? I blink hard, trying to tug away such thoughts but I suddenly feel that I am not up for this dinner. I go to turn away, unlock my phone to text Rafe and tell him I don't feel so well, when my focus shifts again, and there he is. On the other side of the glass.

~~~

One day, I hope this book becomes famous and that somebody from Victoria picks it up and reads it and grins inwardly at all the references to Melbournian culture. The froyo sign at the Froyo Joint on Glenferrie road. The imagery. The café and restaurant names; most of them are places I love going for brunch or lunch.

My dad told me that we used to have pasta at Pellegrini's when I was a kid and we still lived in the city. I visited it again last year, or the year before, and although I couldn't remember the place, as soon as I stepped within its doors, I felt safe and comforted, as if the years of forgotten memories were wrapping me up in a kind of intangible, ghostly hug.

And now, a myriad of new memories have been made there.

I had my first cappuccino at Pellegrini's. I said goodbye to one of my closest friends there before she moved back to Finland. I had lunch there with my sister after my first School Strike For Climate.

And once, I stared at my reflection in the mirrored walls as I stirred my coffee and thought of a boy I loved. Who I had seen that day, coincidentally, in the middle the city, on the steps of Parliament House, during a climate change strike.

I had never believed in fate until that day. Because what were the odds that a boy who had moved hundreds of kilometres away from me, was all of a sudden standing right next to me in the midst of a crowd of thousands of people?

I sipped my bitter coffee and thought of the empty feeling of his arms when he held me. The way he didn't linger with me, and left me standing in the street. The way he didn't glance back. And I decided that I couldn't have my coffee black.

A boy who would never love me back.

The bitter truth more than made up for the darkness of the coffee. 

I reached for the sugar and accidentally poured too much in the drink.

And yet the cloying sweetness did nothing to alleviate the sadness I was feeling.

And I decided then, that I didn't like sugar in my coffee.