“What is all of this?”

“Candy. What else does it look like?”

“Wait,” I said, my eyes widening when the realization dawned on me. “You’re American!”

Noelle was silent for a long moment, her expression somewhere between shocked and confused. “What?”

“A-am I right?”

“How the hell did you know?”

“The sweets,” I explained, pointing at the contents of the parcel. “I don’t know most of them, but I think they’re American.

Plus, you say candy instead of sweets, and I noticed that you slip in and out of accents sometimes, especially when you’re upset.”

“I am upset right now,” she said, glaring at me. “I can’t believe you found out that easily.”

“Why do you want nobody to know?”

Noelle stared darkly at the floor. “I don’t want to talk about it.

Just let it go and don’t tell anyone else, please.”

The look on her face stopped me from inquiring any further. The only thing I asked was, “How do you manage to sound so British?”

“Practice. Before I came to the UK, I started learning how to sound all posh and proper. Since I’ve been here, the American accent has kind of started to fade, so I don’t have to consciously suppress it anymore. But I guess that doesn’t work as well as I thought it did.”

“I wouldn’t have thought much of it if I hadn’t seen this,” I said, pointing at the parcel.

“You really are as much trouble as I thought you’d be.”

Knocking my shoulders against hers, I asked, “What’s your favorite candy then, Miss America?”

She rolled her eyes at me but handed me a small orange package of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups.

While I opened it, she said, “All the different kinds of candy are pretty much the only reason I miss the US.”

“Really?”

“Well, that and my mom, of course,” Noelle said softly.

My breath hitched in my throat. It was rare that Noelle let herself be as vulnerable as she was right now and even rarer that she offered information of her own without any prompting. “You and your mom are close, aren’t you?”

“We are. She’s great.” Looking up from the parcel, she asked,

“Do you want to play truths?”

I hesitated for a moment, taken aback, before I nodded.

“Okay,” Noelle said, twisting her whole body to face me. I did the same, so we were sitting opposite each other on the bench with only the parcel between us. “But if there’s a question either of us wants to skip, that’s okay.”

“Do you want to start?” I asked around a Reese’s.

“Sure. Let’s start with an easy question. What’s your favorite subject?”

“English Lit.”

“Disgusting. Your turn.”

I chuckled. “What’s your favorite season?”

“Winter,” Noelle answered promptly. “My birthday is in December. Do you have siblings?”

“No. You?”

She shook her head. “My mom doesn’t have time for another child. Hell, she barely has time for me,” she said. “Was that your question?”

“No. What’s your mom’s job?”