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She didn’t see him at first, and he dared not distract her with that beady-eyed boss of hers around. In the end, he didn’t need to. Gianna put her hands on her narrow, aproned hips and said, ‘Your boyfriend is earlier for your shift than you.’

‘I don’t have a…’ Juniper turned on her heel, then rolled her eyes at the sight of Aiden. Pink radiated from her nostrils, and her eyes were glassy: sick? She was peaky, too, dark circles under her eyes and her lips lacking their usual colour. ‘Oh. Him. He’s not mine.’

He was, actually. A couple of weeks apart over Christmas had proved that. He’d spent every second of the day wondering what he should text her next, how he could come up with something that would make sure she wouldn’t forget about him while she was away.London wasn’t quite London without her, and he’d found himself coming here to draw and read, just to feel like he was still a bit close to her.

‘Why not? I’d quite like to be yours.’ He flashed his teeth as though it was only a joke, though his chest burned with the truth of it. ‘Happy New Year, Juni.’

Juniper scoffed and meandered behind the counter to put her apron on. He enjoyed watching the fabric tighten over her hips and wondered when she’d next let him touch her. It was different now. He’d sensed as soon as the exhibit was over that she was trying to put distance between them again, but it was too late. He knew her too well. Knew that her brain was full of creatures and music and colours, and he wanted to learn more about them all.

To avoid getting her in trouble, he went back to sketching, the Christmas lights that hadn’t yet been taken down painting his graphite strokes golden. He hadn’t fallen into a rhythm like this in months. Years, maybe. Lately, all he wanted was to make art and talk to her, which was probably pathetic for a twenty-year-old man, but… well, he was trying to not care what people thought about him these days.

‘You cut your hair.’ Her voice dragged him out of his reverie, and he let his fingers slacken around his pencil as he looked up. Juniper fiercely scrubbed at the table with a damp cloth, though he hadn’t left any crumbs behind from his late breakfast of a blueberry scone.

He fingered his chopped curls soberly. The longest locks were only a few inches shorter, falling now by his lobes instead of the nape of his neck,so it surprised him that she’d noticed. ‘My mum doesn’t like when I grow it out. Figured I’d save myself a lecture over Christmas dinner.’

Juniper glanced over her shoulder to make sure her boss wasn’t looking, then slunk onto the chair opposite. The café was quiet, the cold January blues staving off their usual customers. ‘You have a mum?’

He snorted. ‘We all do, Hodge. I think that’s how it works.’

She looked as unimpressed as ever by his attempt at humour. ‘You haven’t mentioned her before. Thought you’d spent Christmas all lonely and Scrooge-ish.’

He shrugged. ‘Nah. She travels a lot for work – has done since the divorce – but my aunt and grandma both live here in London, too, so I figured I’d join them this year. Hate to favour the southern side of my family, but they’re easier to tolerate. I’m notquitean Ebenezer yet.’ Although he was close after a few days spent with his family. Mum and Gran had been picking at him all Christmas about his future plans, what career one could actually have with a degree in ceramics, had he called his father recently, et cetera. It was better than being in Manchester with his dad – or, more likely, alone, because Jonathan’s work came first and he still wasn’t speaking to Aiden, anyway – but still. He’d had more than enough of his family until the next birthday, at least. ‘How about you? How was your Christmas?’

‘My cousin let Cerberus escape and we found him in my granddad’s shoe. My grandma gave a monologue about why she just can’t understand pronouns, all while using them seamlessly. My mum still doesn’t understand why I’m studying ceramics when I could have a stable job.The usual.’ She sniffled; definitely sick, or at least getting there.

‘Who’s Cerberus? Do you have a hellhound of your own you’re not telling me about?’

‘Sort of. He’s my hamster.’

‘Ah. Cute.’ He planted his sketchbook on the table and leaned closer. ‘My family doesn’t get it, either. The ceramics.’ But he was surprised that she had the same problems. As far as he knew, her parents didn’t come from an art background. They should have been proud of her for breaking the mould.

‘Were you waiting here for something, or are you just a fully-fledged stalker now?’ Juniper’s voice was unusually steely, even for her. He swallowed to think she might genuinely not want him here: not in her playful way that he could tease her about, but in a way that made all of his recent vulnerability sad and humiliating. He was trying to show her that he…

He didn’t know, really. That he liked being with her. That she was his favourite thing about RACA. That, just because they weren’t partners anymore, didn’t mean he wanted all of this to stop.

‘Honestly, I didn’t think you’d be back so soon.’ It was only the second of January; their classes didn’t start until Monday. ‘I like it here. It’s a good place to think.’

‘Think about what? Which Burberry coat you want to wear today?’

He tutted, though secretly, the insult stung. Didn’t she see more than just his money by now? ‘This is Superdry.’ He tugged at the fur-lined hood of his parka. ‘I’m not that posh. Yet.’

She took the napkin he’d used for his scone to blow her nose, and he narrowed his eyes. ‘Are you getting a cold?’

‘You’re so observant.’ Tucking the tissue away, she stood up, though her boss was still somewhere at the back of the café and nobody needed her at present.

‘Well, are you going to be well enough for camping next week?’ he pressed.

Her eyes widened, and she sat back down. ‘What camping?’

‘Didn’t you get Chris’s email?’

‘I don’t know. Maybe.’ She shook her head as though it might dispel her confusion. ‘Shit. What are we camping for?’

‘To learn how to pit-fire with combustibles. You know, oldest firing method ever and all that?’ He cocked his head, unsure whether to be amused or not by the way she leaned back in a daze. Unfortunately, he found her scattered brain quite endearing, though he could see her frustration bleed through sometimes. Like now, as she tugged on her hair.

‘I need to start reading my emails,’ she muttered to herself.

‘Yeah, it might help. Look, I was going to head out to buy a tent later. I can wait until your shift is over if you want to come with?’