She told the three couples in the room to stand hip-to-hip and wrap their arms around each other’s waists. Aria did so, shooting Hallbjorn a nervous smile. His arm felt strong and secure around her back.

“Now raise your opposite legs into tree pose,” Jesus Beard said, demonstrating with Santa Hat. “Touch the palm of your free hand to your partner’s. See? It binds you together.”

Aria felt Hallbjorn’s balance shift as he bent his knee and placed his foot on the inside of his thigh. She did the same, pressing her hand into Hallbjorn’s. Instead of leaving his hand limp against her palm, as the instructors and the other couples in the room were doing, he laced his fingers with hers and squeezed.

“Thaaaat’s right.” Jesus Beard’s eyes were closed. “Feel the energy. Feel your equality. You are two trees in nature, holding one another up.”

“This is a lot like your Solstice rituals, no?” Hallbjorn asked.

Aria giggled. “Next they’re going to ask us to run naked up South Street.”

Hallbjorn raised his eyebrows. “I’d do it if you would.”

It took everything in Aria’s power not to blush.

“Now we’re going to move into the double straddle.” Santa Hat lowered her bent knee to the ground. “This really helps you and your partner get over all sensitivities and insecurities with one another. Sit on your mats. Open your legs in a V, face each other, and hold hands. Just like this.”

The instructors moved into the pose. Both of them were extremely limber; their legs jackknifed into two nearly perfect splits. They inched forward toward one another until their groins were practically touching.

Aria giggled nervously. Hallbjorn was already stretching his legs into a straddle. Aria did the same, then grabbed Hallbjorn’s hands. Slowly, they pulled each other closer together, leaning forward so that their faces almost touched. Aria caught Hallbjorn’s eye and didn’t look away. Hallbjorn didn’t either.

She flattened her spine, inched forward, and touched her lips to his. His mouth was warm and firm and tasted like honey. And for the first time in months, she didn’t think about Ezra or Ali or A at all.

Chapter 6

Sound the Alarms

“Remember this picture?” Aria held up her laptop and pointed to a photo she’d uploaded of her and Hallbjorn standing at the edge of Laugardal, one of Reykjavík’s biggest public pools. Snow was flurrying all around them, sticking to their bare skin. In Iceland, outdoor public pools remained open all year round because they were geothermally heated. “That place had the scariest waterslide ever!”

“You were such a wimp.” Hallbjorn poked her. “All those kids were waiting behind you in the freezing cold, begging you to take your turn.”

“I know, I know.” Aria winced at the memory. She’d been too scared to slide down the enormous waterslide, turning around and walking down the wooden staircase instead.

It was Christmas evening, and they were snuggled under the covers of Aria’s bed. This had definitely turned into Aria’s best Christmas ever. Hallbjorn was an even better kisser than she remembered, and for the last twenty minutes, he’d been rubbing the kinks out of her neck, which made her shudder with glee and never want to leave this room for the rest of her life.

Aria flipped to the next picture and burst out laughing. “The ponies!” It was a photo of Hallbjorn’s Icelandic horses, Fylkir and Fyra. Aria was on Fylkir, the shorter, fatter, and more docile of the two, but there was still a terrified look on her face. Hallbjorn was next to her on Fyra, who was the color of cinnamon and had giant nostrils.

“You made me go along that steep cliff on our first ride,” Aria scolded Hallbjorn. “I could have killed you. I was so sure we were going to fall over the edge.”

“Icelandic ponies are sure-footed,” Hallbjorn protested.

“Well, I didn’t believe you at the time.” Aria looked at her younger self in the picture. “It’s no wonder my brother was afraid of them. They look so small and untrustworthy.”

Hallbjorn burst out laughing. “Mike was afraid of Icelandic horses?”

Aria slid lower under the covers. Oops. That was one of Mike’s biggest secrets. “Uh, forget I said that.”

“Who’s this guy?” Hallbjorn scrolled to another picture on the laptop. Aria’s photos were in no particular order, and the next shot was of Noel Kahn at one of Ali’s seventh-grade parties. Aria had covertly taken the photo, peeking around the corner and pressing the shutter when she knew Noel wasn’t looking. Ali had teased her mercilessly when she’d found out Aria had camera-stalked him.

“Oh, that’s someone I used to like before I moved to Iceland,” Aria said nonchalantly.

“I think you told me about him.” Hallbjorn stared hard at Noel’s image. “Alison stole him from you, right?”

“He was never mine to steal.” Aria peered at Noel’s image. He was wearing his lucky University of Pennsylvania Nike lacrosse shirt—typical. “Besides, every guy was into Alison. I thought it was mean of her to go out with him, though. She knew I liked him.” Worse, Ali had gone out with Noel for only one date before dumping him. It felt to Aria like she’d done it just to prove she could get any guy she wanted—or any guy Aria wanted.

He propped himself up on one elbow. “He was an idiot to pass up the chance to date you. You’re so amazing. I cared a lot about Anja, but I never forgot about you. You were my first love.”

“Love?” Aria squeaked, the word almost palpable in the air around them.

Two pink splotches appeared on Hallbjorn’s cheeks. “Yes, love.”

Suddenly, a twig snapped outside the window, followed by a peal of laughter. Aria slid off the bed and parted the curtains. The night sky was hazy. There was a thin, glossy sheet of ice over the snow. Around the perimeter of the property was a set of crisp, fresh boot tracks leading straight to the back door.

“Oh my God.” Aria stepped away from the window. “I think there’s someone out there!”

She ran down the stairs, Hallbjorn right behind her. As they reached the foyer, there was a crash out back, like someone had knocked over one of the metal garbage cans. Aria grabbed Hallbjorn’s arm and squeezed.

“It’s okay.” Hallbjorn pulled her close. “It’s probably just an animal.”

“It’s not an animal.” Aria’s heart was beating so quickly she felt woozy. “Someone is following me. Trying to get in.”

“Why would you say that?”

“I’ve had a stalker for months, remember?” She’d filled him in on the A drama that afternoon.

“Yes, but didn’t you say your stalker was dead?” Hallbjorn tiptoed toward the patio. “It’s an animal. I’ll scare it away.”

“Don’t go out there! I’ll call the police,” Aria said, picking up the hallway phone.

All the blood drained from Hallbjorn’s face and he lunged for the phone, banging it back on the receiver. “No! Don’t call the police!”

Aria stepped back in shock. “Whoa. What is going on with you?”

For a second, Hallbjorn looked like he was going to protest that nothing was wrong, but then his shoulders sagged, and he crumpled in on himself. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to tell you . . . I’m wanted by the police in Iceland. I’m afraid the police here might know, too. It’s why I’ve been hiding and avoiding cop cars. They could be after me. So please don’t call them. I’ll go check out the noise and then I’ll explain everything.” Hallbjorn made his way to the back door.

A sick feeling spread through Aria’s stomach and she retreated into the living room, where she sank down on the couch. She wondered if she should call the cops anyway. But this was Hallbjorn. There had to be a good reason he was wanted.

“It was just a raccoon,” Hallbjorn announced as he came back into the front hallway. “I saw it running away.”

Aria looked up at him. “Why are the police looking for you?”

“I led a protest against the destruction of a local puffin sanctuary outside of Reykjavík. I took you there once.”

“I remember,” Aria said slowly. “It was the place where the baby puffins hatched.” She’d fallen in love with the baby puffins as soon as she’d seen them, desperate to steal one and take it home as her pet.

Hallbjorn raised his head and gave her a plaintive look. “They were going to tear it down and build a mall. Displace all those puffins. Bulldoze their habitats. I couldn’t let that happen. So I protested, and I was arrested. But I put up a fuss, and then I escaped custody. The police were after me for days. I hid out at a friend’s, but then I realized I had to get out of the country. I took a boat to Norway and caught a plane out of there. My passport wasn’t flagged in Norway since no one was looking for me internationally yet.”

Aria blinked at him, trying to take this all in. “So . . . you weren’t coming to the States to see family after all?”

Hallbjorn shook his blond head. “I have some friends in New York who said I could stay with them. But when they diverted us to Philadelphia, I thought of you.” He took her hands. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you right away—I was afraid of what you might think of me. I was desperate. I couldn’t turn around and go back to Iceland. They’d throw me in jail. Can you forgive me?”

Aria pulled her hands away and curled them on her lap. She didn’t like that Hallbjorn had lied to her—so many people had deceived her in the past few months. But then, would she have let him in if she’d known he was wanted by the cops? She’d had enough police interaction lately to last her whole life.

She looked up. “You were thrown in jail just because you protected some puffins?” In this country, he’d probably get a slap on the wrist and probation. Eco groups like PETA and Greenpeace would make him their poster boy.

“Iceland is very strict,” Hallbjorn insisted. “Protesting and running from the police are practically as bad as committing murder.” A contrite look washed across his face, and he put his face in his hands. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

Aria moved closer and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “You were just trying to save the puffins—I would have protested against them tearing down the sanctuary, too. Maybe you could stay in the States for a while. Get a student visa and go to university here.”

As soon as the words spilled from her mouth, she began to play it out in her head. Maybe Hallbjorn could go to Hollis or Moore College of Art in Philly; Aria could visit him every weekend. The two of them could drive to New York so she could show him the sights, just like he’d shown her around Reykjavík. It would be wonderful to have someone to talk to, a date on the weekends, a connection to Iceland again.

But Hallbjorn shook his head. “I can’t stay here. My travel visa only lasts for another week. The only way I stay here is if I hide, and I’m not sure I want to do that, either.”