Page 51 of Meet Me in Berlin

‘Ah, yep, still in Melbourne,’ I say.

‘Are you here for a holiday, or a job?’

‘Oh, just a holiday.’ I scrunch my nose. ‘Kind of lost my job. Redundancy, not because I was shit at it.’

Casey laughs. It’s heartfelt, authentic and comforting, and it warms my spirit. ‘That’s good to know.’

‘I wanted to get away from everything. So’ – I hold up my camera – ‘I decided to travel and take photos.’

‘Creative arts. Photography was your favourite.’

I turn gooey. ‘You remember that?’

‘I do.’ Her voice is tinged with nostalgia and she flashes me another smile before she glances around the park. ‘Are you here with friends? Family?’ A pause. ‘Partner?’

I shake my head, my gaze fixed on her, too scared to look away in case she vanishes. She waits for my reply, watching me with those eyes … those fucking eyes. ‘Just me.’

There’s an imperceptible rise of her brows. Or is that me imagining things? Reading too much into every facial movement?

‘Here on your own?’ she says. ‘Good for you.’

‘I take it if you’re here for work, you’re travelling alone?’ It’s a question I immediately regret, because I don’t want to hear that she’s here with her partner. I want this new-found hope to last longer than five minutes.

She breaks eye contact. ‘Ah, yeah, just me.’

My heart lifts, and I take the opportunity. ‘I was thinking about taking this stuff back to my flat and grabbing some dinner.’

‘Yeah?’ she says.

Her curious tone encourages me. ‘If … I don’t suppose you’d want…’ I swallow. ‘Do you want to join me?’

A slow smile spreads across her face, making her eyes shine, and I’m right back in that gallery, about to melt to the ground.

‘I’d love to.’ She points to a large bag by her feet. ‘I might drop this off first, though. I don’t really want to lug around a laptop. And I’ve been at work since eight this morning, so it would be good to change.’

I have to stop myself from pouncing on her so she can’t leave, like a puppy with separation anxiety. ‘Oh. Okay.’ I bite down on my lip so I can’t say any more, because those two tiny words were loaded with desperation.

She scans my face, like she’s trying to read my mind. ‘Why don’t we exchange numbers and pick somewhere to meet?’

I remember to breathe. We can meet, no need for clinginess. ‘Good idea.’ I dig into the pocket of my shorts and pull out my phone. ‘I’ll message you.’

Casey reads out her number, I type it into my contacts and send a message. ‘And there’s mine.’

Her phone beeps. ‘Got it. Where are you staying?’

‘In Mitte. Near the Naturkundemuseum. I’ve got a studio flat thingo for a couple of weeks.’

One side of her mouth lifts and she taps her phone screen. ‘A studio flat thingo? Well, let’s find somewhere near your thingo,’ she says, deliberately pronouncing ‘thingo’ with a hard G. She opens Maps and zooms in. ‘There’re some good restaurants in Mitte. We can meet at the end of Friedrichstrasse, near the river. Like, around here.’ She leans closer, tilting the screen toward me, and I catch her scent. Still cedarwood. I swallow and stare at her profile, our shoulders only centimetres apart. When I don’t respond, she lifts her gaze, eyes piercing mine.

My breath catches and I look down at the screen, heat rising in my cheeks. ‘Yeah.’ It comes out as a whisper, and I clear my throat. ‘Yeah, good. We’ll meet there.’

‘About seven-thirty?’

I nod.

‘Okay, see you soon, then?’

I nod again.

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