Page 4 of Meet Me in Berlin

I jumped up and pulled her to her feet, eager for us to be alone and carefree again. ‘Let’s go.’

We left the park and took the S-Bahn four stops to my dorm room. Although Casey stayed close to me on the journey, she was quiet, and the regret for coming on so strong sat heavy in my gut.

Inside my room, I dumped the pizza we’d picked up on my tiny desk and tugged her down onto the bed, holding her close. ‘Are we okay?’ I asked, running my hand through her short curls.

She nodded.

‘I didn’t mean to say all that stuff. I don’t know why I did.’

Casey reached for the small silver H that hung around my neck and pressed it between her fingers. ‘I do care about you, Holly.’

The ‘but’ that hung in the air was deafening, and I scrambled for something, anything, to say to shift the focus from the pressure I put on her. ‘You seem worried. Is it that exam next week?’

Her brows furrowed. ‘Exam?’

‘That renaissance art exam. You said you haven’t studied for it.’

‘Oh, that. I’m a bit stressed about it, yeah.’

‘Okay, well, you should study then. I can leave you alone,’ I said, rolling away.

She pulled me back to her. ‘Not now. Can we just be together tonight?’

I kissed her in response, long and deep, delighting in her soft sighs and warm hands on my skin. We took our time removing each other’s clothes until our naked bodies were fused together, silky skin, gentle fingers, hot tongues, and just when I thought my heart couldn’t hold any more affection for her, her tenderness made my chest ache in a way it never had before.

After our heart rates had slowed and we’d untangled, we ate, shared a beer and smoked a joint on the balcony. Then I set up my tripod.

‘We having a photo shoot?’ Casey asked, draped against the pillow dressed in underwear and one of my singlets.

‘I need to practise low-light shots.’

I turned off the overhead light and angled the lamp on my desk so that a gentle buttery glow shone over my bed, then set a low ISO and a wide aperture. I adjusted the lens using Casey as the focal point, set the timer and jumped back in bed. We lay on our sides gazing at each other as the camera snapped a series of shots. Her face carried an intensity I hadn’t witnessed before, and in the dim light I could see the tiny cinnamon flecks that marked her dark brown eyes. I set the timer again, and this time Casey kissed me softly and held my face close to hers.

I scrambled off the bed to check the photos and gasped. What I wanted to see was there – our connection, solid and electric, evidence it was real and captured forever. ‘What do you think?’ I asked, passing Casey the camera. ‘I’ll edit and fix the exposure, but they’re good.’

Casey stared at the digital image for a long moment before thrusting the camera back to me. ‘They’re … um … they’re nice. I-I like what you did with the lighting.’

I took the camera from her and tried to meet her eyes but she turned away. ‘We look good, too. Together, I mean.’

She nodded.

‘Casey, please look at me.’

She slowly turned, her eyes misty.

‘Are you crying?’

She kissed my forehead. ‘They’re beautiful photos. I just get emotional over art sometimes.’

I tossed my camera to the side and clung to her, desperate to wind back the clock so that our conversation in the park never existed. ‘The London thing was too much. I won’t make any plans. I can’t imagine saying goodbye to you, that’s all.’

She didn’t respond, just buried her face in my neck and held me tight.

The next morning, the quiet click of a door woke me. I stretched and reached for Casey, but my eyes shot open when I felt an empty space. ‘Casey?’ I hopped out of bed and checked the bathroom. Empty. I grabbed my phone from the desk. No calls or messages. I opened the door to the small balcony. Nothing. I leant over the iron balustrade and spotted a thin figure with short, black hair rushing along the concrete path below. ‘Casey?’

She stopped and peered up.

‘Where are you going?’

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