Free London by Carina Axelsson

could feel Jenny rolling her eyes on the other end of the line. “He can’t help it. It’s a by-product of what he does—which, may I remind you, is write and sing songs that millions of people love. Cut him some slack.”
    â€œJenny, you weren’t there, but trust me, the atmosphere around him is weird—plus he knocked me down flat and then said it was my fault! The guy’s ego is ridiculous, and I’ll be stuck working with him all afternoon!”
    â€œDo you always have to take things so seriously? I mean, come on, any girl from our school would love to spend an afternoon with him.”
    â€œWell, I’d be happy to swap places with them.”
    I heard Jenny sigh loudly. “You know what I’m thinking right now, Axelle?”
    â€œI’m not sure I want to.”
    â€œI’m thinking that you’re the one always saying that there’s more to people than you see on the surface. That most people have an entire inner world that we can only guess at.”
    â€œThanks, Jenny—but that’s when I’m talking about people’s motives and actions. As in a mystery.”
    â€œYeah, well, how would it be if you applied that logic to people in general—whether or not they’re suspects in a case? Does someone have to commit a crime before you really want to talk to them?”
    â€œNo, but it helps.” I couldn’t keep from smiling.
    â€œYou’re twisted, Axelle,” Jenny answered with a laugh. “Do yourself a favor and cut those of us who haven’t committed a crime some slack, will you?”
    I took the Tube back to Notting Hill Gate and walked home from there. Then, after feeding Halley and making myself a cup of tea, I went upstairs to my bedroom and lay down on my bed.
    Thoughts of Gavin, Johnny Vane, and the images on the flash drive were on my mind as I flipped through the book Charlotte had lent me.
    But I snapped out of my thoughts with a start when the doorbell rang a while later, setting Halley off down the stairs barking. I instantly knew who it was.
    Sebastian.
    My heart began to race as I vividly recalled the last time we’d been together: on top of the Empire State Building—kissing. And, although it had taken us a long time to get to the viewing platform on the eighty-sixth floor (the lifts are old and slow, and there are various checkpoints to go through), our kiss had lasted way, way longer. And then, when we’d finally stopped, laid out all around us was the most amazing sunset ever. The entire city had shimmered in the orange light.
    But that was three months ago…before Sebastian returned to Paris and I came home to London. And although we’d Skyped a lot between then and now, video calls didn’t have the same romance factor. It wasn’t the same as seeing someone, was it? How easily can you see someone who lives three hundred miles away in a whole other country—not to mention the time zones? (Okay, so there’s only a one-hour difference, but still.)
    But now finally Sebastian was here to see me. He’d arrived late this afternoon on a Eurostar train. We hadn’t been able to arrange anything sooner because of my exams, so we’d been planning this trip for a long time.
    I got off my bed and went downstairs, nervous about what to expect. I ran a hand through my hair, took a deep breath, and opened the front door.
    He stood at the top of our steps, just as tall, broad-shouldered, and biker-boy cute as I remembered, hair tousled, leather jacket on, smiling at me. And although there was a bit of shuffling around and eyeing each other as I invited him in (FYI: seeing the person you fancy like mad for the first time after months apart is weir d ), soon enough, we were standing face-to-face, close enough that I could smell him.
    And suddenly it was as if time and distance had never intervened. Sebastian reached out and pulled me to him. I’d be lying if I said