He flicks through more photos, seemingly impressed. ‘Who is this?’ I reach for my phone and there’s a tiny spark of electricity as our fingers touch. I wonder if he notices it too, but his face tells me nothing.

‘My friend Kelly.’

‘And this guy?’

It’s a selfie of Darren and me. I took it at his Halloween party, before the accident. He’s dressed as a zombie and is wearing white face paint which covers the worst of his acne. I’m a witch, holding a broomstick made from twigs.

‘Darren. My friend’s cousin.’ I shrug and take my phone. ‘No one important.’

‘Really? He seems to like you.’

I glance back to the photo. Darren’s arm is draped around my shoulder, reaching for the broomstick. I vaguely remember him making a joke, saying I could ride him any time.

‘You look good together.’

I give a tiny shrug. Now I’ve met Stig, my thing with Darren seems so trivial. Darren made me laugh, but there is something special about Stig. Just being in the same room as him is exciting. When he’s near, I want to pull him close. The way he looks at me sometimes, I get this warm shiver. Darren never made me feel like that.

Stig gives me a quizzical look and I study the photo again. ‘We look ridiculous. Someone set my broomstick on fire with a candle halfway through the night, and Darren … Well, he’s not going to be interested in me now.’

Stig huffs. ‘I bet guys hit on you all the time. You just don’t notice.’

I frown, hoping he isn’t making fun of me. ‘I’m blind to it, you mean?’

He glances at me over the rim of his cup. If he notices the bitterness in my voice, he doesn’t show it.

‘Anyway, what happened with your girlfriend, the trapeze artist?’

Stig takes a bite of sandwich, then another. He chews thoughtfully.

‘The girl you showed me on your phone, that was her? She looks beautiful.’

Stig nods and narrows his eyes, as if he’s not sure what to make of that. ‘I guess so.’

‘What happened between you?’

He shifts slightly in his seat. ‘I went through a bad time after Dad. And Nina is the kind of girl who likes things to be fun.’

Something flickers in the corner of my eye: a shadow near the front door. I sense it moving closer, and have the feeling that we’re being watched.

Stig sighs. ‘We had this huge argument, and then she fell …’

‘She fell?’

‘From the trapeze wire. They said her harness wasn’t done up properly.’

‘Oh no. Is she OK?’

‘Her mother phoned me from the hospital. She was in a coma.’ He notices my worried expression and adds, ‘It’s OK. She woke up the next morning. She’s fine.’

‘So, did you finish with her, or …?’