"You have got to be kidding me," I mutter under my breath.

Is Helsinki really this small?

Almost right on cue, I hear Zuzi's exclamation behind me. "Is that––"

"No," I snap, and before she can say anything, I've lowered my head and bulldozed my way to the front of the crowd.

Where the hell are Ludo and Frederik? Now I'm standing in the way of other people, swivelling my head this way and that, in hopes of a familiar face that has nothing to do with Aksel.

I think Zuzi is still behind me, but I refuse to turn back to check.

I hope he's not still looking at me.

Someone seizes my elbow, and I jerk around wildly. It's Priscilla, and she's reaching past me to point.

"They've found a table," she says. She grasps my hand. "Come on, before we lose each other again."

"Where's Zuzi?" I ask.

Priscilla glances over her shoulder. "Shit."

"She'll find us," I say, already forging ahead. I can see the guys now – they're seated somewhere close to the toilet sign, and Ludo is waving us over. Frederik is lounging back, looking like he's ready for a beer or two.

Zuzi reaches me and Priscilla before we get to the table.

"Emi," she all but shouts in my ear. She's bouncing lightly on the back of her heels, eyes bright as if ready for a particularly interesting episode of her favourite show. "Was that––"

"Look," I interrupt, "the guys have found a table."

Zuzi shoots me a look that tells me I haven't heard the last of the topic from her, but she does at least shut up.

As we get to the others, Priscilla and Zuzi each take a chair on opposite sides of the table.

"Sit with me," Priscilla says, gesturing to the empty seat next to her. "We'll have our own alcohol-free party here."

On the other side of Priscilla, Frederik groans. "I need a drink," he says – predictably, I think to myself, pushing back against the twitch of my lips. "I'm not joining your little club."

"I'll get the drinks," I offer. Not because I really want to, but because I don't want to be there when Zuzi announces to the group that Aksel and his friends are right here.

"I'll come with you," says Priscilla, but the look on her face tells the story of her reluctance to venture into the drunken crowd.

"No, it's okay, it's faster if I go alone" I smile at her so I don't offend. "It'll be faster to squeeze through the crowd if it's just one person. Now who wants what?"

The rest begin shouting out their orders, while I try to commit them to memory.

A lager for Frederik and Ludo each, a rum and cola for Zuzi, and a ginger ale for Priscilla.

"Sure you don't need help?" Ludo asks, in a rare show of chivalry. He's already halfway out of his chair.

Waving him off, I plunge into the crowd.

It's not the worst thing to run into Aksel on a night out, I reason to myself as I head for the bar. We barely even have to acknowledge each other. Why would we? We're here with different groups of people.

Besides – in all honesty, seeing him with his friends isn't as bad as I thought it would be. It had been far more awkward sitting with them, back when Aksel and I had been together, than running into them now that we are broken up.

Maybe that already says something about how incompatible we were as a couple.

I am so busy thinking about this that I don't realise it when someone comes to a complete stop right in front of me. I almost bump into this person, but notice at the last moment and halt in my tracks. I look up, slightly annoyed, deciding to go for a silent glare before moving on my way.

Then I see those familiar light-blue eyes staring back at me, and I forget all about the glare. Or the moving on.

I have to clear my throat before greeting him with a flimsy, "Hi."

"Hey," he says. The word sounds half bitten off coming out of his mouth. It tells me nothing about how he's feeling at this moment.

Why is he here? His table is at the far corner of the room.

"Small world, huh?" I ask, for lack of a better thing to say.

A corner of his lips tilts upwards. "Yeah. Small world."

"How is it going?"

"Okay." He looks back in the direction of – I assume – where his friends are seated, but I don't bother to turn. It would be a moment too soon if I ever had to see Aliisa again. "We're just having some drinks tonight."

"Yeah, I know." Then I bite my tongue and correct myself, "I mean, I guessed as much." They usually go out for drinks on Friday nights. I've lived with him. I've tagged along before, until he had started going without me. I know their routine.

"Yeah," he says. I wonder if he's thinking about the same thing.

We stand staring at each other, before I turn sharply and head for the bar. "I've got to order." I can't spend the whole night standing around with him, staring into each other's eyes in silence.

"Who are they?" Aksel has come up to stand beside me, even though his gaze is fixed on the table that Priscilla and the others are occupying. They're talking animatedly now, Zuzi reaching across to shove Frederik on the shoulder.

"My friends." I finally get the attention of the barmaid and place the orders, before pointing to the table Aksel can't seem to take his eyes off of. She nods and slides me the receipt.

When I've completed the payment, Aksel is still here. "What friends?" he asks, like there hasn't just been a long pause in the conversation.

"Friends," I repeat more firmly, feeling a frown come over my face. Why is he being so intrusive? "I have friends too, you know."

"You didn't use to have them."

It's the truth, but his matter-of-fact statement hits hard. My frown morphs into a full-on scowl. Without answering, I put my back to him and walk away – or as much as I can, until I feel his hand close around my wrist. He pulls me back, almost causing me to stumble back into him.

"Don't go," he says. "Let's have a drink together."

I turn to him, cocking my head suspiciously. Is he drunk? I can't tell in the dim light.

"I'm here with my friends," I say, then cast his table a pointed look. "And so are you."

He shrugs. "So?"

"So..." He's asked that so baldly, I find that I'm at a loss of words. "You should go back to your friends, and I should go back to mine."

"I want to get a drink with you."

"You are drunk," I say, jabbing a finger at him.

"I'm not," he says. "I don't get drunk."

I think back to our time in Edinburgh, and have to admit that it's true. In all the time I have known him, I've never seen him more than slightly tipsy.

"Then what's wrong with you now?" I demand.

He shrugs, but stays silent. And, all of a sudden, I'm getting flashbacks to the way he used to be when we first met in Edinburgh. Back then, he had also been acting aloof but strangely insistent. It's so unlike the way he is in a relationship that I eventually chalked it down to the fact that we hadn't known each other that well in Edinburgh. But here he is now, donning the same mantel once more.

It's like we're strangers all over again.

He shuffles his feet, as if searching for something to say. "I didn't know you would be out tonight," he says.

I have to laugh at that. "Me neither."

He looks confused, so I elaborate, "It was a last minute decision. I was hanging out with my friends and they wanted to come out."

"I thought you don't like coming out to places like this."

Now, coming from him, this sounds almost like an accusation. I take a breath to bite back the instinctive retort that has sprung up on my tongue.

I shrug. "Not really, but... they're my friends."

Aksel says nothing, and I know he's reminded of all the times I turned down his offer to go out on a Friday night with his friends. There's something about the flatness of his smile that tells me he's annoyed.

I hadn't wanted to talk to him, but now that I know he's angry at me, I don't want to leave things as they are.

"I didn't know you come to this bar." The time I had joined them, it had been at a bar somewhere else in Kallio. "I wasn't expecting to run into you guys."

"We come here sometimes, when the Black Cat is too full."

It takes me a moment before I realise that the Black Cat is the name of the bar they usually go to, translated into English. Does he think that if he said the Finnish name of the bar, I won't understand it?

"Okay," I say, trying not to let my own annoyance leak into my tone.

He picks up on it anyway, and his gaze sharpens. "Maybe you wouldn't have come here if you knew that."

"Why wouldn't I?" I retort, not giving his words a chance to sink in. If I had stopped to mull over his statement, I would have had to admit there is a ring of truth to it. "It wasn't up to me, anyway. Frederik was the one who picked this bar. I think he's been here before."

"Frederik?"

"Yeah. He's one of my friends."

"Where is he from?"

"Denmark," I say, before I narrow my eyes. "Why?"

"Where in Denmark?"

"Why do you want to know?" I repeat.

Aksel shrugs, but there's a certain stiffness to his movement. He's looking back at the table where my friends are again. I turn to look, too. They're probably wondering where I am.

"I should go back," I say, stepping away from him.

"Yeah," he says. "To your friends."

I pause. "Yes," I say slowly. "I came here with them."

He stuffs his hands into his pockets, almost angrily. "Fine."

***

My calm before the storm doesn't last long.

More time must have passed since then, but it feels like I had barely sat back down with the others and begun getting into our usual banter. For the better part of the time, I had been trying to avoid turning to peek in the direction of what I presume to be Aksel's table. If he saw me looking, he might take that as an invitation.

But, in the end, my valiant attempt at self-control doesn't even matter at all.

Frederik has just finished talking about his work issues and we are having a lull in the conversation when the mood shifts. Zuzi is suddenly giggling. "Emi," she says in as low a whisper as she can go without being drowned out by the surrounding noise, "I think someone is here for you."

Priscilla whips her head around, so fast that her hair goes flying into my face. I sputter.

"It's Aksel," she tells me unnecessarily, a split second before Aksel comes to a stop by our table.

I slowly look up.

He is looking at me almost shyly. "Hi." He glances around the table, nodding at the others. "Hey."

"Hey," Ludo says back. Zuzi echoes Ludo, while Frederik mumbles something. Only Priscilla stays watchfully silent.

"Where are your friends?" I look around the bar, as if they are in danger of materialising before us.

He shrugs. "They're going to another bar. It's still early."

It's already past midnight.

"Why don't you go with them, then?"

Another shrug. "I like this bar."

"Your friends might not be happy about that," Priscilla speaks up now.

Aksel turns to her. "It's okay. We don't always stay together the whole time when we go out drinking. They'll be okay without me."

"Why do they have to be without you?" I ask snidely.

I feel Priscilla's elbow in my ribs. For all her discouraging remarks about my friendship with Aksel, her Kiwi niceness must be horrified at how unfriendly I'm acting towards Aksel.

I don't know where all my hostility is coming from. I had just been defending our friendship to my friends, after all. But I don't know what he is doing now. He had already ambushed me at the bar counter. Why is he invading my space again?

"Take a seat," says Ludo, with a sweep of his hand. Obligingly, Zuzi reaches out and pulls out the chair next to her. I've never seen her act like such a gentleman.

"Thanks." Aksel sits down right across from me, watching me in the way one keeps an eye on a rabid dog.

"So," Zuzi leans forward, propping her arms up on the table. "You're the infamous Aksel."

He gives her half of a smile. "Infamous?"

I am shooting daggers at her with my eyes.

"Well," says Priscilla, "we saw you once, after our Finnish class."

"Ah." The tone of his voice has changed. Aksel darts an almost guilty look at me. "Yeah."

"We didn't properly introduce ourselves back then," says Zuzi. She sticks out her hand, "Nice to meet you, I'm Zuzanne. Zuzi for short."

He shakes her hand. "Aksel Toivonen. Nice to meet you."

That sparks off a flurry of introductions that surges round the table. Aksel has to lean across to greet Ludo and Frederik, who are the furthest away from him. I stay sulkily in my chair, watching my friends get acquainted with someone they've been advising me against staying friends with for the past few weeks.

"Do you come here a lot?" Priscilla asks Aksel, with a quick glance at me.

As Aksel launches into the little explanation he had already offered me at the bar earlier, I tune him out and take a reluctant drink of my ginger ale. If I look up, I know I will meet Zuzi's curious gaze.

I feel like all of them are, to some degree, staring at me, gauging my reaction to Aksel's presence. Even Aksel himself.

"It's a cool bar," Frederik inserts into the conversation that is in danger of dying after Aksel says his piece and Priscilla nods in acknowledgement. "I've been here a couple of times."

"Yes, I like it too. We sometimes come here on Friday nights, but we also go to other places after this. It's usually our first stop."

"Funny that we should run into you here," Zuzi says.

Aksel smiles. "It's a small world. I didn't expect to see you here, either." He's looking straight at me now.

"It's weirdly easy to run into people here," I interject before anyone else can reply, rolling my eyes. "Helsinki is too small. This wouldn't have happened in Hamburg."

There is a slight pause. Now I know for sure that everyone is staring at me.

"That's not true," Aksel's tone is somewhat ragged, and I can tell that I've hit a nerve. Good. Maybe he will get offended and go away. "You ran into your friend at the Elbtunnel when we were in Hamburg for the weekend."

"Why are you arguing with me about this? That happened once." Whereas I've run into Lumi more than just once in Helsinki.

"I'm not arguing. I'm just saying it's not true that it wouldn't happen in Hamburg."

"I'm saying that Helsinki is small," I say, "and it's true. There are only six hundred thousand people here. There are almost two million people in Hamburg."

"There are more than six hundred thousand people in Helsinki. Maybe six hundred and forty thousand."

I have to take a deep breath, so that I don't roll my eyes right out of my head. "Yes, okay," I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm now. "That's way more than six hundred thousand."

"There are only about five hundred thousand people in Copenhagen," Aksel shoots at me. The turn the conversation has taken is so sudden, it takes me a moment to figure out we're still on the same topic.

"What?"

Aksel sits back, as if it has just dawned on him that we have an audience. I'd almost forgotten myself. "Nothing."

Is he trying to say that Helsinki isn't the least-populated capital city in the world?

Frederik must have been thinking along the same lines, because he says, "Reykjavik has a population of about a hundred and twenty-two thousand." But there is a strange look of amusement on his face as he looks to Aksel.

A split second of uncertainty flashes in Aksel's face, before he smiles. "Yes, that's why they need an app when they go on dates."

Frederik lets out a loud laugh.

Zuzi is looking between them, not getting the joke. "What? What app?"

"Iceland is so small that a lot of people are indirectly related," Frederik says. "That's why they created an app that they can use to find out if someone they've met is a distant relative of theirs."

"Are you serious?" Priscilla bursts out laughing as well.

"I don't know whether to say that's sad or funny," I say.

"Probably both," says Frederik.

I laugh. "Probably."

Then I see Aksel glowering at me. What's his problem now? He's the one who's come over and hijacked my friend group.

There is a moment of silence that I barely notice, because I'm too busy frowning back at Aksel.

"I'm getting another beer," Zuzi says then. "Anyone want anything?" She looks at all of us in turn, but her gaze stops on me and Aksel. It flicks between the two of us.

"I want more beer. I'll come with you," says Frederik, unfolding himself from his seat with the languid movement of a cat.

Ludo raises his hand. "Another beer for me."

I spring up from my seat. "I'll come, too."

Zuzi and Frederik exchange a glance. "It's okay," Zuzi says. "We can handle it. You guys stay and chat."

Thwarted, I sink back down as the two of them wriggle their way into the crowd surrounding the bar.

Ludo gets to his feet abruptly. "I need the toilet," he says. Not looking at any of us, he turns and walks away in roughly the same manner which he had announced his intentions.

"That's convenient." I already know what they're doing.

Involuntarily, my eyes meet Aksel's.

He knows, too.

Priscilla, to her credit, seems to have no intention of abandoning me. Daintily taking a sip of her diminishing ginger ale, she plonks down her glass to smile brightly at me, as if practically the whole table hasn't just gone away.

This feels like Edinburgh all over again. I'm nursing the memory of how Tatiana and the others had left me and Aksel alone at the museum we had been visiting as a group.

I wonder if Aksel is, too.

"So," Priscilla chirps, "What do you do for a living?"

Aksel plays along. "I'm a financial manager."

"Oh." From her blank look, I come to the conclusion that Priscilla knows just as much about the finance sector as I do.

"I work at a bank," Aksel helpfully simplifies it for her.

"A high-flyer job," I say.

Aksel frowns. "Not really. It's just a job."

"I always thought that bankers were the ones who controlled all the money in our system."

"That's not what I do."

"You work with money, don't you? Banks are where the money is."

"Yes, but–"

"That means you know how to make the system work for you such that you come out on top. That's how bankers get rich, isn't it?"

"You don't know anything about my job," he says.

"I'm a chemist," I say, "not an economist."

"Neither am I."

I don't realise Aksel and I are staring each other down until Priscilla clears her throat.

Tearing my gaze away, I cast around for a different, safer topic. The empty chairs surrounding the table are still empty.

"Where are the others? Did they all get lost or something?" But my half-rhetorical question is dripping with sarcasm. I'm not expecting an answer.

When Priscilla pushes out of her chair, I realise my segue has given her the perfect excuse. "I'll take a look – see what's taking them so long."

She correctly interprets the baleful look I shoot her. She smiles and leans in close to me, "I'll bring them back. I promise."

I make a moue with my lips. I know she's not coming back.

Aksel and I watch in silence as the last remaining member of my group vanishes into the depths of the crowd.

"Great." I slam myself back into my seat, as if that would help in rewinding the last five minutes. "You've scared my friends away."

"No," Aksel says. "You scared them away."

I lean away from him. "It wouldn't have happened if you hadn't been here."

My phone chooses this moment to vibrate in my pocket, and I glance down at it, distracted for a moment.

Sorry, says the text on the screen. It's from Priscilla. But you two seem like you need to talk. Text me if you need me to come bail you out!

My thumb hovers over the screen for a long moment. Then I reach for the button at the side to click it off.

Blowing out a long breath, Aksel shifts so that he's mirroring my body language. "You just want to fight with me."

"I don't want to fight," I say, even though the next words out of my mouth are in direct contradiction to this claim, "but you are being irritating."

"How am I being irritating?"

"You pick on everything I say."

"I'm not picking on you."

"Right. That's why you have to disagree with everything."

"I'm not disagreeing with everything you say. Maybe I'm trying to show you that not everything you assume is right."

I am offended. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

"You always think your way is the only way to see things. You don't even listen to what I say."

"That's not true. I listen."

"No, you don't."

"You're the one who doesn't listen. You didn't even bother listening to me before you decided to dump me."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I can see his knuckles going white as he grips the handle of his beer mug. "I was always listening. Even when you told me everything you hate about my country, I was listening."

"Well." Guilt assails me for a moment, before I harden my heart and jump head-first into the well of indignation rising up in me. "You were the one who wanted to know. So – is nobody allowed to criticise Finland? Or is it just me, because I'm a foreigner?"

That stops him short. I have gone on a tangent he wasn't expecting. "No–" he begins, before the word cuts itself off.

Now that I'm on the offensive, I'm warming to my theme. "It's true, isn't it? You're completely fine when one of your friends says something negative about Finland, but when it comes from me, you're offended because I'm not allowed to say anything bad about your country."

Wasn't that, in fact, what our break up was all about? He had wanted me to leave, to go back to Hamburg.

Aksel's jaw is clenched. "This is exactly why we broke up."

My fingers curl around the edge of the chair and I breathe in sharply. I need to brace myself against the seat back for a long moment before I can see straight again.

"No," I say, with an edge to my tone, "we broke up because you gave up."

He snorts. "Me?"

"Yes, you."

"No," he says, "you were the one who gave up long before I did."

The tears spring, unbidden, into my eyes. I blink angrily. "I didn't. I was struggling, turning my life upside down for you, and you just gave up on us. You didn't even want to try to work it out. I was trying."

"You were blaming everything on me. That's not trying."

"You didn't even notice that I was trying. I was making new friends, going back to class again, and you didn't notice."

"Maybe because you didn't tell me anything anymore."

"Maybe I couldn't," I say, "because you weren't listening anymore. Because you were blaming everything on me, too."

That shuts him up.

Shrugging, I fall back against the back of the chair. "You know," I begin again, "it takes two hands to clap. I didn't ruin it all on my own. It's unfair that you're saying it's all my fault."

"I'm not saying that," he says, but his voice is quieter now.

"It feels that way." I look down at my now-empty glass, then surprise both myself and Aksel by reaching over to grab his mug.

"Hey," he protests, as I raise it to my lips and take a sip. The foam bubbles over my tongue and flattens out, leaving a bitter aftertaste.

I push the mug back over to him. "It's been a while since I've had beer."

He shrugs, then drinks out of the mug and raises his eyebrows at me. "You weren't drinking beer just now."

"Yeah – it was ginger ale," I say. "Priscilla doesn't drink beer either, so... It's much easier for me to avoid drinking, too."

"That's... good." His tone, as well as his expression, is plastered over with bemusement.

"It helps," I repeat. "I don't feel like I have to drink to fit in."

Maybe he doesn't understand – he has never understood the way I used to drink even though I'm allergic to alcohol – but he nods. The silence stretches out and he reaches for his mug again.

I watch the Adam's Apple in his throat bob as he swallows.

"You're different with them," he says.

I blink, not understanding right off the bat.

"Your friends," Aksel clarifies. "You're more... open with them. You were never like this when we were hanging out with the gang."

"Yeah," I say. "Because they're your friends."

"Is there a difference?"

I shrug. Yes.

"You didn't like my friends," Aksel says.

"No," I correct him. "I didn't like Aliisa. The others were okay, but I didn't feel comfortable with them."

"Why?"

Lifting a shoulder briefly, I look away from him. There is no judgement in his gaze now – just curiosity. He really wants to know. "I don't know. It felt weird, me being there, because you all had your own inside jokes and language. I always felt like a bother when you all had to speak in English just to accomodate me."

"Nobody cared about that."

I'm annoyed, because he's still not listening. "It doesn't matter what they thought about it. I'm telling you how I felt."

"Okay."

I look up just in time to see him lift his beer mug and take in a mouthful, watching me all the while over the rim of the glass.

"I should go," I say abruptly.

"Oh," he says, in a light voice that speaks of surprise. "What about your friends?"

I spread my hands to gesture at the empty chairs around us. "They're not here. I don't think they're coming back."

"They might be worried."

"I'll text them or something. Say I'm going home. I don't know."

"It's still early."

I have to smile at that. It feels anything but early. "Not for me," I say. "I wasn't expecting to come out tonight, anyway."

"I'm glad you came out," Aksel says.

That picks at a scab far too raw to address. I twist my lips and reach for my purse. "Yeah. Maybe. I'll just... Bye, then."

But he stands up at the same time I do. "I'm going, too." He drains the last bit of his beer and sets it on the tabletop.

"Oh. Where to?"

He shrugs. "Home, maybe. Or I can join the others if they're still out somewhere."

I check the time on my phone. It's close to one – late by my standards; not so late by his.

Outside of the bar, Aksel turns to look at me. His hands are back in the pockets of his coat. It feels awkward, now that the cover of the other noises in the bar has melted away.

"Let's not fight anymore." He says this so quietly, I wouldn't have caught it if the night hadn't been dead silent.

I look off into the distance, down the road – anywhere but into his eyes.

"I don't know why we always fight when we run into each other," he says.

"I don't know either." I try to laugh. "Maybe that's why we broke up."

There's a scuffing sound, and I look over to see him kicking at the ground with the tip of his shoe.

"Are you going home now?" he asks.

"Probably," I say. But I don't move.

Neither does he. "It's been a while since we've talked properly."

"We just talked."

A wry smile comes over his face. "More like argued, most of the time."

"Maybe."

"Do you think we are too different to stay friends?"

He has to be at least a little drunk. I've never heard him ask a question like that before, not without the help of too much alcohol.

I shrug. But he's still staring, dissatisfied with my non-answer. Finally, I say, "I don't know. We weren't exactly getting along great when we first met in Edinburgh, either."

He had been so rude back then.

"That was different."

"How was it different?"

It's his turn to shrug. "I was being an asshole on purpose."

That tickles a real laugh out of me.

"Meeting you confused me," he says. He's looking down at his shoes. It reminds me of that old Finnish joke: How do you know if a Finn likes you? He looks at your shoes instead of his own. "I didn't expect to feel so strongly about someone I just met."

I let my breath leak out, bit by bit. "Yeah. Me neither."

"I miss you."

Phrased so baldly, and tossed out so suddenly, his admission renders me speechless.

"I don't mean," he hurries to clarify, "as a couple or anything. But I miss talking to you. Making jokes. Having fun."

"I..." I don't know what to say.

"We were friends, too," he says softly. His eyes are fixed on mine, unwavering.

I can hear my heart beating.

He takes a step closer.

When I don't move away, his hand brushes against mine. I hold still as I feel his fingers slide in between the gaps of mine. Another pause, as if gauging my reaction, before he curls them into a proper grip.

I'm still looking into his eyes.

I miss him, too.

And suddenly, my lips are on his. People like to talk about how kissing someone leaves them breathless. Here, with Aksel, it's the opposite. It feels like I've been breathless all this time, and it's only now that I can remember how to breathe again.

His kiss feels like coming home.

The warmth spreads through my face, neck, to the rest of my body – and then finally through my haze-clouded brain.

I pull away. The warmth from his touch evaporates as his fingers leave mine, and I almost find myself leaning back in.

Instead, I say, "I have to go."

Aksel stands unmovingly, blinking at me. I can't tell, from his expression, if he wants me to stay. He doesn't say a thing as I slowly turn away from him.

He lets me go.

***

I spend all of the next morning cursing myself. Maybe Priscilla was right. Maybe I can't be just friends with Aksel.

Had I been the one to instigate the kiss? I can no longer remember. It would have been simpler if I had been drunk. I would have had an excuse.

Aksel, on the other hand, had been drunk. He had drunk more than I had. I had only seen him down one beer at our table, but he had probably already had a few with his friends before we had even arrived. Maybe he doesn't even remember what happened.

I hope he doesn't remember.

Letting loose the frustration bubbling up in my throat, I growl and pick up my phone. I'm halfway through typing up a text to Priscilla before I toss it away with a growl.

None of my friends think friendship between us would work out. If I tell them what happened last night, they would say they'd seen it coming.

Who else can I text about this? Tessa and Gabi? Tatiana?

Aksel?

My bottom lip curls into grimace.

I find myself eyeing my laptop. What was it Priscilla had said about the essay competition? Writing out my experiences in Helsinki would be a way to share my feelings. To find others who relate to the things I've been through.

I don't really want to share my feelings. But it might be a way to figure things out.

Taking a deep breath, I power up the laptop. Even as the machine whirs to life, I have my finger tensed over the mouse button, ready to abort mission anytime.

Of course, I'm not going to submit it for the contest. I'm just writing it down.

Eventually, I find myself staring at the blinking cursor on an empty document page.

Slowly – so slowly that I can almost hear my bones creak with every movement, I lay my hands over the keys and begin to type.