Violet could never sleep on planes. She watched anxiously as her fellow passengers filed onto the Austrian Airlines plane to Vienna, hoping that the seat beside her would remain vacant because maybe with the extra space, sleep would come easier. There was something very infuriating about seeing every other person fall into blissful slumber while she sat upright, wide-awake and exhausted.

But it was December. The departure lounge had been crowded and just when she thought she was in luck, a man stopped beside her seat and stowed a bag into the overhead compartment.

“Excuse me,” he said pointedly, and she swung her legs aside to let him squeeze into the seat beside her.

She didn’t acknowledge him, didn’t even look at him. She glared at the flight safety instructional that played on the small screen in front of her. It was seven in the evening, and she hadn’t managed to nap in preparation. The ten-hour flight, coupled with travelling through six hours worth of timezones meant she’d arrive in Vienna just before midday. With no sleep, the spontaneous trip had begun to seem a lot less fun.

“It’s busy, huh?” the man said, settling down.

A talker. Great. Violet exerted all her effort to force a smile onto her face.

“Sure is.”

She glanced at him briefly. His hair was wet.

“It’s raining,” he said, by way of explanation.

Sure enough, outside the small square window, rain was pouring down. She looked at him again. His hair was literally dripping. He dabbed at it with his sweater which was also soaked. It didn’t help at all.

“You should have worn a coat,” she said. She stood and reached up into the luggage hold for her bag, finding a face towel which she handed to him.

“Thank you,” he said, very gratefully. “Really. I was late. I had a meeting and then my taxi got stuck in traffic so I had to basically run half a mile to get here. I thought I wouldn’t make it.” He shook his head. “I’m Matt, by the way.”

“Violet.” She focused her attention on the instructional again.

“And I left my coat at work,” He sighed and rubbed at his hair until it was halfway dry. “Anyway. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Violet said in a way that sounded colder than it should have. She sighed. “You should take off your sweater,” she advised. “It’s dripping.”

Matt raised an eyebrow. “Wow. Forward. But you seem nice, so okay.”

Violet smiled insincerely. “Actually, I’m engaged.” She held up her left hand to display her ring. “I just think it’d be inconvenient if you died of hypothermia, okay?”

He shrugged. “Okay.” He leaned forward and dragged off the sweater, his t-shirt riding up to reveal his toned abdomen. Violet stared before she caught herself and then hurried to look away.

“There,” Matt said. His hair was a mess and his shirt was creased but he had the kind of smile that made everything fit together. “I won’t die now.”

“I’m very glad,” Violet said. “Wouldn’t want to fly beside a corpse.”

He laughed.

“Yeah, that would be inconvenient. My boss would be very disappointed. I have to go all the way to Europe to make sure his new wine supplier is above board.”

“Oh.” Violet smiled politely. “I didn't know Austrians made wine.”

“Oh, it's pretty famous. Mostly white. Anyway, why’re you travelling?” he asked. “Family?”

“Actually, I’m going to surprise my fiancé,” Violet felt faintly proud of herself, like it was a wonderfully bold and romantic thing to do. “I haven’t seen him in six months. He works in Vienna.”

The thought of Toby shifted her mood, made everything jittery. They’d been together three years and she’d never been without him so long. The thought of finally seeing him again made her anxious.

“Wow,” Matt smiled. “Lucky guy.”

“Oh no,” Violet said. “I’m the lucky one, really. You know, he’s a violinist with the Vienna Symphony Orchestra, can you imagine? The Vienna Philharmonic which is like basically the best orchestra in the entire world, gets its members from there?”

Matt didn’t seem particularly enthused and Violet sat back.

“I mean, I guess you have to know about these things,” she said. She tried to content herself with the thought of Toby, trying to imagine the look on his face when he saw her.

The stewardess was telling them to fasten their seatbelts and she checked hers for the third time as the plane finally began to move, painfully slow at first before it sped up and lifted. No going back. She closed her eyes and breathed in slowly, trying not to worry. Everything would be fine. Everything would be perfect.

“So this fiancé, is he Austrian?” Matt asked.

Violet opened her eyes and looked at him.

“Toby? No, he moved there this summer. Why?”

“Just,” Matt shrugged. “I guess he must really love his job, y’know? To leave an entire life. To leave you, y’know?”

Violet frowned. “Well, we’re still together. But it’s like his dream, you see? And it’s kind of easy because it’s a constant; we both love each other and we're confident in it. Besides, we talk all the time.”

“Sure,” Matt shrugged. She found him mildly infuriating. “But it’s not the same as physical presence, right? Don’t you get lonely? He just went off to chase his dreams. Aren’t you meant to be his dream?”

His eyes met hers. He was disarmingly handsome, his eyes a deep, warm amber. He looked momentarily at her mouth. Violet blinked. She frowned.

“You don’t get it.” She tried to remain polite. “You can’t live just for another person. Life is more than that and besides, our dreams converge.”

Matt nodded very seriously. “Oh, so what are your dreams? What’s he given up for them? Or was your dream him and if he’s happy you’re happy?” He appraised her thoughtfully. “I don’t know, Violet, the whole thing seems a little one-sided.”

Violet stared at him open-mouthed. He looked back undeterred.

“You don’t understand,” she said eventually. She turned away, focusing on the in-flight entertainment system. “Just forget it.”

There was a pause.

“I’m sorry,” Matt said. “You were nice and I’m being judgemental. I’m sorry, okay?”

She shrugged, scrolling through the movies. “Fine.”

“No, come on. We have to sit here for hours. Don’t be mad at me.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m not mad. I don’t care.”

“Well, I do,” Matt said. “So how’re you gonna surprise him? What kind of musician is he? I mean, what does he play? Piano? Is he like a concert pianist?”

Violet rolled her eyes extravagantly but it only encouraged him.

“Fine. Trumpet? Harp?”

She ignored him until he gave up. She turned on a Poirot film and watched it without watching it, feeling less excited than she’d expected. Now that her trip had taken off, all the positivity suddenly felt like a facade, like she was kidding herself and yet she didn’t know why she ought to be nervous. She was going to see her fiancé. Surely, everything would be beautiful and wonderful and yet something didn’t feel right.

The sky outside the small window was dark and soon enough, people were settling down to sleep. Violet eyed them enviously. She watched the movie until she realised she hadn’t even followed it. She turned it off and leaned back, closing her eyes. She couldn’t sleep. She could never sleep and it exasperated her to be the only person awake.

She undid her ponytail and shook out her dark hair. She closed her eyes again and counted all the way back from a thousand and still couldn’t sleep.

She glanced at Matt. He was asleep. She curled up in her seat and looked past him out of the window. There was nothing to see but darkness. She looked back at him; at the enviably comfortable way he slouched in his seat; the way his shirt fit to his broad torso. She felt an inexplicable desire to touch him. He looked so warm and even though she wanted to hate him, there was something about him that seemed impossibly attractive.

She tried to think of Toby but the memory had become distant, fading further out the longer they were apart. She looked at Matt. He was nicer when he was asleep. She imagined what he looked like with his shirt off. Her eyes closed momentarily and she chased the thought, hoping it’d be smooth enough to draw her into sleep. His body. His mouth.

He’d kept looking at her mouth. She wondered what it meant. She didn’t have a particularly beautiful mouth but the way he looked at her made her feel like maybe to some people she did. Did he want to kiss her? How would he kiss? She imagined how his hands would feel on her waist as his mouth consumed hers. His tongue. How would he hold her? She could imagine the grip of his fingers on her ass, digging in and urging her body to press into the warm muscle of his.

Violet exhaled. It’d been too long. She could feel the lazy stir of arousal in the pit of her stomach and wondered if she should feel bad. But it was only inside her own head. Nobody else would ever know. Her eyes flickered open, appraising Matt again. She’d never thought of a man as anything graceful before but there was a masculine elegance about the way he slept; something disarming and almost poetic.

Half of her hoped he’d open his eyes and catch her looking. But then what? She’d made it abundantly clear that she was taken and yet the idea of being taken by him caught faster than kerosene, desire flaming through her veins.

Shifting in her seat, she glanced around at the other passengers. Everyone was asleep. It was just her; awake and alone and bored and going to see a man who’d moved four thousand miles away from her. Insecurity gnawed at her insides and she tried as ever to ignore it. She was going to see him. He’d be happy. She’d surprise him and then they could spend Christmas together and then? Then she’d go home alone and the loneliness would run on repeat until it suffocated her. She didn’t know how much longer she could take it.

She looked at Matt again and sighed. She literally sighed. Perhaps she’d only been abrasive towards him to conceal her attraction. Because she was attracted. The more she tried not to think about it, the further the thoughts developed. She imagined him waking up and catching her staring, pulling her across and into his lap, feeling him grow hard against her.

She glanced around again. The passenger across the aisle was turned away, fast asleep. Everyone was asleep. She couldn’t take it. She felt wide awake, wildly turned on by little more than a stranger. It was driving her insane. She had an insane idea to slip her hand beneath the waistband of her jeans and touch herself until she moaned. And maybe Matt would hear her and wake up and replace her hand with his own and tell her to keep quiet in case they woke the other passengers and then he’d pull her to him, kissing her while he fingered her; touching her in a way that men never seemed able to figure out, but he’d know it and he’d use it; make her come for him until she was writhing and helpless and then he’d undo his pants and take out his throbbing cock and sink it inside her in the way that only ever existed in dreams and it’d be so perfect; they’d move together like they were made for one another and it’d go on and on, draining and delicious and just - everything. Violet closed her eyes, lost in the fantasy and before she realised it, she was asleep.

***

The plane had landed by the time she woke. Her eyes flickered open and it was daytime; natural winter light was streaming through the windows and for a few seconds she didn’t know where she was.

“Finally,” Matt’s voice was close. “How can you even sleep that long?”

Her head was on his shoulder.

She sat up straight, blinking.

“I’m sorry.” She felt mortified at herself. She’d been asleep for hours. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I’m kidding,” he said. “It’s fine. I’m glad you were comfortable.”

“I don’t usually sleep on planes,” she said. “I’m really, I – I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s fine,” Matt said. “Relax.”

He was looking at her but she didn’t look at him. Passengers were beginning to stand up and she followed suit, tugging her holdall free of the overhead compartment. She felt a little disoriented. It must have been mid-morning local time. She’d figured on planning her hotel and schedule while on the flight but now it was too late and she was exiting the plane and heading out of the airport and all of a sudden it was bitterly cold and she didn’t even have a clue how to call a taxi.

She’d left in such a hurry, she hadn’t even considered how her phone would work in Europe and sure enough when she turned airplane mode off, there was no data and no wifi. She sighed and went in her bag for the Lonely Planet book she’d bought at the airport bookstand, back in the US. She unfolded the map at the back and frowned down at it.

Snowflakes swirled down carelessly. Beyond the airport, the country was covered in white; picturesque and deserted. It was like a flawless Christmas card scene but in real life it was freezing. Most of the other passengers had already gone their separate ways but as she tried to make sense of her guidebook, Matt reappeared.

“You okay?” he asked. “’Cause I can help you out, if you'd like. I’ve been here before, dozens of times.”

“I’m fine,” Violet said, but she really wasn’t. The spontaneous trip now seemed like the stupidest thing she’d ever done. She didn’t know the language, hadn’t booked a hotel and couldn’t even navigate her way out of the airport. She frowned harder at the map like it would suddenly make more sense.

“Look, I just think it’d be inconvenient if you died of hypothermia,” Matt said very smugly but when she looked at him she couldn’t get angry.

“Come on,” he said. He smiled comfortingly. “Trust me, okay? I’ll take you wherever you need to go.”

It seemed extraordinarily kind of him but Violet hesitated. “Don’t you have stuff to do though? Your wine thing?”

“That’s tomorrow!” he groaned. “I’m gonna be so bored! You’d actually be doing me a favour.”

And because she really didn’t have a clue what to do, she relented and they shared a taxi into the city. And this time when he asked her what instrument her fiance played, she told him it was a violin. And maybe she was overcompensating, maybe the way he made her feel felt wrong somehow; maybe she felt guilty for wanting him but she was giving him the 101 on everything about Toby and her; about how they’d met at a mutual friend’s birthday party, how they’d been together three years; how talented and smart he was and how she’d bought him the antique violin he used, even though it’d cost more than two years rent.

“You bought it?” Matt asked, perplexed.

“It was a gift,” Violet explained, “It’s like investing in his happiness and our future.”

Matt didn’t say anything but he didn’t look impressed.

“It’s just – money stops being important,” Violet said, feeling the need to explain herself. “Since then, he’s achieved so much, it’s like we made that happen together.”

“But – you don’t even see each other,” Matt shook his head. “I don’t get it. I just – it seems like you’ve exerted everything and I don’t see what you get out of it.”

“I get to see him do what he loves,” Violet said earnestly.

“But you don’t,” Matt frowned, “He lives in another continent. It’s like you invested your life savings to lose him.”

Violet laughed. “I haven’t lost him,” she said. “I’m seeing him. Today, at the symphony. There's a reception right after, that's when I'm going to surprise him. Hey, do you wanna come? Maybe then you’ll understand.”

She didn’t know why she asked him; she almost wanted to take back the invitation as soon as it’d left her mouth but he was being so kind it seemed only polite, and he agreed because he’d never been to a symphony before.

They wound up eating lunch together, and because she figured she'd probably stay with Toby, she didn't bother finding a hotel. Instead, Matt let her dump her case at the room he'd booked and insisted she could use the bathroom adjoining his room to freshen up and change into a dress before they headed out into the evening.

Bars and clubs lit up the cold, bustling streets of the city. The opera house was in the distance, lit up and glowing like it was studded with thousands of jewels.

They bought two tickets at the box office and were early for the show which was due to be a concert of works by Beethoven and Brahms. They found their seats. A few musicians were already on stage and Violet noticed Toby with a start. She could hardly believe she was there, that they were in the same room together.

“Is that him?” Matt had noticed her shift in demeanor. “Your fiancé?”

She nodded, not sure what to say.

“Why don't you go talk to him?”

“I don't want to distract him,” she said.

“He'd be thrilled,” Matt encouraged, “I know I would be.”

“I really don't want to put him off the show,” she said, and thankfully, he didn't push it.

Soon enough, the stage had filled up and the conductor arrived. The music was beautiful, celestial, but Violet was too nervous to enjoy it. In the intermission, she went out into the lobby and drank sparkling wine to try to settle down.

“You know, I've never been to a place like this before,” Matt was saying, “It's amazing, like a palace, like royalty or something, y'know?”

But Violet wasn't listening because some members of the orchestra had also arrived in the lobby and one of them was Toby. Her heart sped up. She wondered whether to walk over to him but behind him came a woman, a redhead, her smart black dress indicating she was also from the orchestra. But her hand was in Toby's and from the way they leaned into each other, it seemed quite clear they were more than colleagues. Violet stared. For a second she hoped she'd somehow imagined it but they were there, right there. She stepped back, wanting desperately to disappear. It couldn't get any worse. But it could. They were laughing about something and as she looked on in shock, they leaned closer and kissed, right there in the crowded lobby.

“Hey – isn’t that your fiancé?” Matt had followed her line of vision and sounded perplexed. “I thought you said that was Toby.”

Violet couldn’t look at him. “Yes. That’s Toby.”

“Jeez,” Matt looked at her. She couldn’t look back. Her eyes seemed unable to detach from Toby and the woman. “Fuck. I – I’m sorry, Violet.”

She turned to him blankly. “Why? It’s not your fault.”

“No, really. I mean, you came all this way and it’s a fucking joke. I’m so sorry.”

“I feel like – like I deserve it,” Violet said distantly. “I was just - so sure of myself even though everything was telling me not to be.”

Matt was looking at her helplessly. He reached out as though he was going to touch her but then he stopped.

“I – are you okay? That’s a dumb question, sorry. Look, maybe we should leave.”

She didn’t move and after a while, he took her hand and she let him lead her through the people, out of the lobby and into the night. It was bitterly cold. She let go of his hand once they were outside. She stood there a while, breathing in the cold air, hoping it’d clear her head but her mind refused to slow down, every thought coming too fast, ramming unfinished into the last like an endless pileup. She took one long breath and closed her eyes. Matt was still there, she could feel his presence, sense his awkwardness and she didn’t know what he was even doing there, why she’d ever brought him, why she’d let this stranger witness her humiliation.

“You can go,” she said. She didn’t open her eyes. “You should go. I'm fine, really.”

“I’m really not going anywhere without you,” Matt sounded appalled at the idea. “Look, we should get out of here, go someplace warm.”

“I don't want to.” Violet said and her voice was tight and colder than the night and yet it didn’t deter him.

“Come on. Or do you wanna die of hypothermia?” She looked at him and he was looking at her, half his face lit up by a streetlight and he looked so warm, his jaw sculpted, architectural almost, and the corner of his mouth was trying not to smile and she wanted to cry because she didn’t know how to feel.

“Do you think she was pretty?” she asked, unable to stop herself. “And don’t tell me I shouldn’t care. I just – was she? She had nice hair, didn’t she?”

Matt frowned. “What, that girl? No, I thought she was repulsive.”

“Don’t. I mean, really.”

He looked at her.

“Well, I guess she did seem like his type.”

Violet deflated. “She did?”

“Yeah. I mean, they were both like fours, max. So they fit, you know?” He shrugged. “Look, the real mystery here is what you ever saw in that guy. You could do ten times better. It’s actually really poor form for someone as hot as you to date a guy like that because he’s already an asshole and ugly and then he dates you and thinks he’s something special and his ego inflates and then he turns into even more of a dick, y’know? It’s a disservice, Violet. You really ought to be with only exclusively very handsome, very humble men.”

She laughed in spite of herself. “Do they even exist?”

He opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something but then he just smiled and shrugged and she didn’t know why she felt faintly disappointed.

“Let’s get dinner,” he said and even though she’d never been less hungry, she let him take her to a fusion restaurant on the edge of the Danube. He ate steak and she ate the edges of patatas bravas and he finished her plate and the wine went down easy, too easy, perfectly chilled and dizzying enough to slow her thoughts down for a while.

She thought of Toby. Thought of every time she’d missed him and wondered if she should be angry. She didn’t feel angry. She felt relieved and it made no sense. She should be angry and hurt and disappointed and yet there was only relief and she felt free in a sense; so free; so light and weightless like she’d been clinging relentlessly to something that was no good and now there was nothing but space. So much wonderful space.

Matt was telling her stories about the gastropub chain he worked for and he was trying to make her laugh mostly and she did laugh because he was funny and warm and eventually when they left the restaurant, he said he’d get her a room at his hotel but at the desk the man said they were fully booked so they both went to his room instead and it might have seemed stupid to go to a hotel room with a man she barely knew but Violet trusted him and he didn’t give her cause not to. He sat on the bed. She drank some orange juice from the minibar and then drank a tiny bottle of whisky and lay down on the bed fully clothed, without even taking her shoes off. Matt seemed surprised but he didn’t get up. He looked at her like he had a million things to say but no way to say them.

“I could just stare at you for hours,” he said eventually.

She lay there looking at him, and everything else had become blurred, spilled into hazy liquid colours, like the rest of the world was a just a background for him to exist on.

She couldn’t stop looking at the slant of his jaw and she knew she’d had too much wine and yet it didn’t stop her reaching out and tracing the line of it, feeling his stubble beneath her fingertips. He didn’t stop her. He just looked at her and breathed in hard, his mouth opening and his tongue coming out to wet his lips. His tongue. It made everything inside her clench.

She wanted him to touch her, feel her, see everything she was. She looked at his hand and imagined it on her leg, skirting up underneath her dress, searching for her and touching her until she shuddered. The thought made her heart race.

It had been so long since she’d been with anyone, felt so close, so in tune. Even when Toby and her had been together, the sex had always felt more like a routine than anything to get excited by. Lying next to Matt made her feel alive. She wanted to see him naked, feel the warmth of his body against hers, lose herself in him and then stay there, perfectly calm and content for eternity. She blinked. He didn’t disappear. Everything about him exuded attraction.

“You can kiss me,” she said, too far gone to be mortified at herself. “If you want.”

He looked at her like she was killing him.

“God, I can’t,” His voice was a shadow. “God, Violet. Not like this, don’t ask me to.”

She blinked. He didn’t want her. She was amazed at her own audacity, humiliated even. The warmth faded fast.

“I’m sorry.” She drew her hand back quickly, turned away to look up at the vast ceiling. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Matt caught her hand and he was saying things, trying to make her feel better, things about time and rebounds and how in any other way he’d have jumped at the chance but she didn’t hear any of it; it played like conversation in the background at a concert and she hated herself.

Everything she went after seemed futile and she held her hand up and examined her engagement ring and Matt was still talking but she felt tired, so tired, jetlagged and exhausted by emotion and alcohol and she turned away from him and finally slept.

***

He’d disappeared by the time she woke. It was coming to evening; she’d slept for almost twelve hours and she felt wonderfully rested until she realised he was gone. Grey winter light came through the windows and the room was silent but for the whirr of a distant vacuum cleaner. Her head began to throb a little.

She looked up at the ceiling and held up her hand and examined her engagement ring and wondered what to do. She could so easily go back home and forget everything. Run away from it all. Go home for Christmas and see her family but then – then they’d all have so many questions and the thought of answering them made her feel enormously tired. She stood up. Her dress was creased horrifically.

She went into the bathroom and stood under the steaming shower for way longer than necessary and even then, didn’t want to get out. She thought of Toby and all the warning signs and how obstinately she’d ignored them as though he were perfect and then she realised it wasn’t her fault. She’d had faith. She’d believed in him. It was on him.

She turned off the water, dried herself methodically and brushed her hair into a very high ponytail. Then she did her makeup very carefully, put on a pretty dress and her coat, and headed out.

The streets were busy; locals and tourists, shopping and eating early dinners. Everything, everyone, was so full of life it made her heart ache. It felt hazy, like she wasn’t really a part of it all. She went into a cafe before realising she wasn't hungry but the waitress had already sat her down and it seemed rude to leave.

She drank three cups of coffee by the window and watched the snow come down. The caffeine kicked in before too long, and she had Toby’s address in her phone and not a clue how to get there but the waitress seemed to miraculously understand her atrocious German and called her a cab.

The drive took longer than she expected; the address seemed to be on the other side of the city and after half an hour of driving, she felt jittery and almost horrified at what she was planning to do. But she didn’t quite know how to tell the cab driver to take her back so she was condemned to sit there until they reached the destination and then she paid the astronomical fare and hoped her tip was enough. She forgot to tell him to wait for her and stood a little bemused on the pavement when he drove swiftly away. But the street sign told her she was at least in the right place and she found Toby’s apartment building and went up the stairs to his door, all the while wishing she was back home.

She knocked on the door and hoped he wasn’t in. But he was. When he opened it, the colour drained from his face.

“Violet?”

“Hi,” she said. “Surprised?”

“I - ” he stared at her, speechless. “What – what are you doing here?”

“Well, I thought I’d surprise you,” she said. She walked past him into the apartment, marvelling at her own audacity. Something about his dumb shock made her feel like she had the upper hand.

“Surprise?” he asked numbly. He turned to look at her. He closed the door and leaned against it like her presence had weakened him. She appraised him silently. He looked way worse than the last time she’d seen him or perhaps her view of him had shifted somehow. His hair seemed thinner, his face drawn.

“You look – amazing,” he said. He couldn’t stop staring at her.

She almost laughed. “Oh. Really?”

“Really,” he said, and he stepped forward like he wanted to touch her but then he seemed to come to him senses. “God, Vi, you – you can’t be here,” he said. His eyes darted from her to an open door which she presumed led into the bedroom. She frowned and made a step towards it but then a voice filtered through.

“Toby? Is someone there?”

Violet could see one side of an unmade bed, a figure shifting beneath the sheets. She looked at Toby. He looked at her, lost for words.

“Toby?” The voice was soft, accented, musical almost and after the longest silence Toby managed to answer.

“It’s just a friend,” he said. He walked past Violet to stick his head into the bedroom. “Nothing important.”

He shut the bedroom door. He looked at Violet. She looked at him.

“Nothing important?” She raised an eyebrow. “You could’ve told me that.”

He opened his mouth. He looked terrible. She could hardly look at him.

“It’s not what you think,” he said finally. “It’s – it’s - ”

“It’s not you cheating on me?” Violet frowned. “Cause that’s what I think.”

“Look. I can explain,” he said.

“So explain,” Violet said, very seriously.

He didn't.

“You – you don’t seem very surprised,” he said eventually. His violin was lying in its velvet-lined case on the coffee table and he picked it up. He’d been polishing it.

“I saw you,” Violet said. She went over to the windowsill and looked at the small collection of Christmas cards. “Last night. I came to surprise you, Toby. You know that? I thought you’d be lonely. And then in the intermission - it all just fell apart. Isn’t that hilarious?”

“You – you saw? God, I’m sorry,” he said but he didn’t even look at her. “I am. Truly. So sorry.”

He didn’t seem very sorry.

“I was all excited about surprising you,” Violet continued. “I really thought you'd be pleased to see me.”

“I’m sorry,” Toby said again. He didn’t look at her. He was polishing the violin like it was a piece of delicate glass. “I don’t want it to be awkward, Vi. But this – it’s how it is now.”

Violet felt detached, like she wasn’t quite there. “You didn’t consider telling me?”

“I – couldn’t find the right time,” he said. “I am sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“So when were you planning on telling me?” Her voice felt like it didn’t belong to her. “If ever?”

“Look – just don’t make this hard for me.”

“For you?!” Her voice rose and his eyes darted to the closed bedroom door.

“Please, Violet. Look – our lives have grown apart. Surely, you understand that.”

“I don’t,” Violet stared at him. “I would never – dream of doing something like this to you. You just use me, always.”

He didn’t say anything. He flipped the violin over and trickled oil onto his cloth and resumed polishing. The specific brand of oil he used was only available in the US and Violet was the one who bought and shipped it to him every month without fail. First Class International Priority.

She watched numbly as he examined an imaginary scratch and rubbed gently at it. He treated the violin with such care, like it was living, breathing, and all the while he’d been betraying her without remorse. She’d bought it for him. Didn’t he remember that?

Everything she’d sacrificed for him. Matt’s words were coming back to her now and she was seeing Toby through a new lens or perhaps just no lens at all; this was the real him, selfish and uncaring and callous. And all the while he was polishing the goddamn violin like it was a lifeline and in a way it was; before she’d gifted it to him, he’d never gotten past a first orchestral audition. Her generosity had made his career and now he was disposing of her like she was nothing, like she hadn’t helped him so selflessly.

“You shouldn’t have come here,” he said, eventually. “It’s over, Violet. It’s been over for months. I have to get to the theatre in two hours. Look, I’m sorry but you really have to go. Please, just leave.”

It was too easy for him, too simple and Violet wanted to be louder, more reckless, more hurt and infuriated but she felt impossible. Nothing was enough.

He went into the bathroom and shut the door and half a minute later, she heard him turn the shower on. She looked around the untidy living space. He’d put the violin back in the case, and before she knew what she was doing she was removing it. She replaced it with her engagement ring and left the apartment, closing the door hard behind her. She didn’t know what to do once she’d got to the ground floor but she kept walking, her slender fingers tight around the neck of the instrument.

She had no idea where to go or what to do or what on earth she was even thinking but the night was crisp and cold and the sky clear. She kept walking and she was thinking about Matt and as she was thinking about him, her phone rang and the name on the screen was his and yet she couldn’t pick up, didn’t know the first thing to say. And yet she was pretty much lost in a foreign city so eventually she caved and answered and told him the street name and asked if he could possibly pick her up.

It was nearing nine when he showed up.

He looked at the violin in her hand.

“Been shopping?”

“I – no.” She ducked gratefully into the warm taxi. “I – actually, I kinda stole it. From Toby.”

“Really?” he looked very impressed.

“Yeah,” Violet had ended up sitting closer to him than she’d intended but it seemed rude to move away. “I don’t know why. I just got – angry.” The thrill of it was coming into force now and she felt terrible but so excited, so amazed at herself.

“I think it’s fantastic,” Matt said. “He might even get fired.”

Violet bit her lip. “I don’t know. How was your wine thing?”

Matt groaned. “Boring. So boring. If you want to know the truth, I thought of you the entire time.”

But Violet wasn’t listening because her phone had started to ring again, only this time, it was Toby.

“He’s only calling for this dumb violin,” Violet said and rage spilled through her. “How dare he. He’s such a – such a -”

“What?” Matt prompted. “An asshole? A dickhead? A fucking bastard? A hopeless, talentless, manipulative motherfucker?”

“Yes!” Violet said, and he was ringing again and she detested him, detested the fact she’d ever wasted any time on him. She wanted to scream. “All of that!”

“Forget him,” Matt urged. “Hey, you wanna get dinner?”

Violet shook her head. “No, I think I should go home,” she said. “I’m kind of done. I mean, there’s really no point in staying now.”

Her phone rang again and she turned it off, stowing it deep into her bag.

“You can’t go,” Matt sounded frustrated. “Why should you?”

She looked at him like he was crazy.

“Because this whole thing was the stupidest idea I’ve ever had. I’ve just wasted time and money on this stupid trip and the whole stupid three years. Can you imagine? I’ve wasted three years of my life! And for what? Literally nothing good has come out of it!”

He looked at her like he didn’t know what to say. He opened his mouth. He sighed.

“Every cloud has a silver lining,” he said.

“Meaning?”

“Well – if you hadn’t come here,” he said eventually, “You wouldn’t have met me.”

Violet looked at him. “For god’s sake, Matt. You just feel sorry for me. We’re never gonna see each other again, I don’t mean anything to you, all I’ve done is inconvenience you.” Her face flushed red at the memory of the previous night. “You must think I’m desperate, you don’t even want me.”

“That’s just not true,” he insisted and he leaned closer and then closer still, and then he kissed her on the mouth like it was something he’d been trying to do since the first second he’d seen her.

She didn’t push him away. She let him kiss her. His mouth was warm and comforting and it fit hers, his lips felt wonderful, like he already knew what she was and before she knew what she was doing, she was kissing him back because he was there, and he cared and he wanted her, and to be wanted felt like the most important thing in the world.

She wanted to be wanted. Wanted to be worth something to someone and he was kissing her like he couldn’t get enough of her, and she kissed him back, reckless and desperate and it was okay, it was just fine, because he felt desperate too, like he was starving for her and when they finally broke apart for breath, he looked at her in a way she'd never seen before.

“You are – so much,” he whispered and she couldn’t talk, didn’t have any words so she kissed him again, her hand against his neck and even though she knew her fingers were cold, he leaned into them like they were everything.

His hand moved beneath her dress, touching her legs and urging them apart and he was warm. So warm, just like she’d always known he would be. Her legs shifted apart a centimetre but it was all he needed and he touched her until she let him push them further and he pushed her dress up, creasing it around her thighs as he found the lace of her underwear.

His fingers pressed against her, and she felt like he must be able to feel her throb. She felt soaked already, the edge of arousal he’d ignited so many hours ago was spilling into more and she wanted him. Wanted every inch of him. His fingers stroked her through the lace. His leg slid between hers, opening her wider to his touch and she felt her lips part and his fingers press against the wet furrow between.

“God,” She was breathing hard, focused on the insistent stroke of his hand. Somehow being touched through her underwear felt more indecent than skin on skin.

“You are so fucking beautiful,” Matt whispered. He was watching her, watching what he was doing to her and it only made her wetter, made her snatch flush anew. The feeling was everything. She lived the moment, breathed it, breathed him in, and could hardly believe it was happening; it was so physical and perfect. She felt delicate and beautiful but mostly she felt wanted in a way she couldn’t remember. Sex had always been something passive, almost a chore, a stipulated requirement of being in a relationship. Nobody had touched her for her, the way Matt was doing, pushing her and urging her and coaxing her and seeing the way her body lit up for him.

She felt like she’d give him everything. His fingers pulled the damp lace from her snatch and ventured beneath, sliding against her slick core. She shuddered hard, her stomach aching, clenching with want. Her eyes flicked to the rear-view mirror. The taxi driver was looking resolutely out of the windscreen, the radio loud enough to warrant his apparent oblivion.

Matt’s finger pushed inside her and she clenched around it instinctively, even as it curled to stroke her from the inside. Every thought was chaos, each stumbling over the one before, unfinished and unheard. She couldn’t think. Didn’t want to think. She just wanted to feel the moment, the rush of desire, the smell of his aftershave and the way he was looking at her like she was something so wonderful to look at.

She moaned, unable to contain it and Matt’s finger went deeper as she clenched around it. The heel of his hand ground against her and there was nothing she could do but take it. Her body felt alive and open and the more she tried to stay quiet, the harder he touched her, making her eyes close and her breath come out harder and louder.

“You can’t,” she whispered. “He’ll see,” Her eyes flicked anxiously to the rear-view mirror again. “Fuck, Matt.”

Matt was unperturbed. “He’s not touching you,” he said. “No matter how much he wants to. That’s me. It’s all me, Violet. All mine. So what if he sees? He doesn’t get any part of this.”

He pushed another finger inside her, and she couldn't concentrate on anything but the sublime feeling. He was touching her everywhere all at once, and there was nothing she could do about it. She looked away, breathing desperately hard. The city swept past out of the window, snow and lights and buildings and he was touching her so entirely, so knowingly and recklessly that she was sure her body couldn't take it anymore - she was going to come right there, unstoppable and crazy and -

And they'd reached the hotel. Matt groaned as she finally found the willpower to push him away. He fumbled to pay the cab fare and they stumbled into the hotel, walking fast through the lobby to the elevator. Violet's heart was pounding. She didn't know what she was doing or if it was remotely sensible but she didn't care. She felt turned on, alive, like her life was finally in colour and Matt's hand was warm and strong around hers and he took her to his room and shut the door and they were suddenly alone, two people and she wanted him like crazy but she felt way, way out of her depth.

“I don’t know what this is,” she said, “I don’t know, Matt. I feel like a mess, so overwhelmed and confused and I really – just – I -”

“I know,” he said. “But what the hell, right? I feel as though we just – we came into each other’s lives at the perfect moment.”

He was right and yet it felt too good to be true; nothing in her life had ever been this easy, so golden and mutual and wonderful and yet he held her gaze like he couldn’t look away and there was something vulnerable about it, like he was giving her everything with the risk of her rejecting it. She couldn’t reject it. Couldn’t even dream of doing such a thing.

She stepped closer to kiss him again and his hand went under her dress, skimming over her thigh. His leg pushed between hers, giving his hand access to her pussy and he touched her beneath her underwear, fingers slicking back and forth until she moaned into his mouth. He caught her lip between her teeth and she pushed harder at his hand, trying to get his fingers inside her.

Her arms went around him and he was urging her backwards towards the bed until he pushed her down onto it, his weight wonderful above her. He pulled back too soon, dragging off his clothes and then he was moving down between her legs, his hands pulling her underwear off before pushing her legs apart.

His tongue was on her before she realised what he was doing. His fingertips dug hard into her thighs as he held her open for him. Each pass of his tongue felt like it could tip her over the edge. She felt too hot, like she was too much for even herself and she stopped trying to stay quiet. His tongue swirled around her clit before pressing down on it hard until she felt like the throb echoed through her entire body. She moaned desperately, pushing back at him.

He pulled away too soon and moved on top of her, kissing her neck.

“I wanted you the second I saw you,” he said, against her throat. “Just so bad.”

He was between her legs, pushing them further apart, his cock hard against the slick heat of her pussy. She reached down to touch him and he swore, the head pushing against her until he finally slid inside. It felt like something she'd been silently aching for forever. He eased inside her until he'd gone as far as he could and she pushed back, her legs going around him as he started moving.

“Fuck,” He looked at her like he couldn't believe she was there. “Just - fuck.”

He was fucking her, going deep inside her with every thrust and she touched him, his arms, his shoulders, feeling the warmth of his skin as their hips jolted together.

“You feel – so good,” Matt groaned. “So fucking good.”

She was sweating, her body moving against his in slick, desperate motion and she could feel how wet she was; with each thrust it felt like her body only wanted more, her pussy getting so wet she could feel the moisture trickling down. Her hand went down between their bodies to find her clit and she touched it desperately, so on the edge it felt like coming was a necessity and she did, finally, clenching hard around him as pleasure flowed achingly through her body.

But Matt wasn’t done. He kept fucking her, driving into her hard, his cock moving more slickly than ever; she could hear the delicious wet sound of it as it slammed into her over and over. He was breathing hard, his eyes drinking in her every reaction until he finally fell apart, so completely that she did too, lost entirely in him for the second time.

Afterwards, they showered together. Everything she wanted to say to him seemed insufficient so mostly she just kissed him instead and felt his tongue against hers as his hands roamed and gripped her naked body.

***

The next morning, they were about to head out for coffee when a bellboy approached Violet.

“A taxi driver dropped this off last night,” he said and he held out Toby’s violin. “Apparently, you left it in his car.”

Violet had forgotten. She took it uncertainly, feeling like a criminal as she walked out into the street with Matt. The morning was cold.

“What’re you gonna do with it?” Matt asked. He was holding her hand and it thrilled her.

“I have no idea,” She looked at the violin. “I don’t even know why I took it.”

“I’m glad you did,” Matt said. “You should burn it. Or throw it in the river.”

Violet looked at him open-mouthed. They’d reached a bridge over the Danube and it was early morning, crisp and clean and deserted.

“I couldn’t.”

“Why not? Do you like it? Or you want to sell it?”

She shook her head. “I don’t want anything to do with it.”

“So ruin it.”

She looked at the instrument. She balanced it tentatively between the heavy wrought iron railings of the bridge. The river beneath was rocky and ran fast.

“Maybe I should give it back,” she mused.

“You think he deserves it?” Matt asked.

Toby had called her dozens of times since the previous night. He must have been lost without it. But he didn't deserve it. He didn't deserve any of it and as though the world agreed, there was a sudden gust of wind which tipped the instrument off balance. It seemed to teeter in precarious slow motion for a heart stopping minute before it fell through the railings and into the freezing, rushing river. Violet gasped. She leaned over and watched it hit the rocks and disappear, carried by the water.

It was gone and it felt like the long-awaited end of something unbearable. Relief flooded her.

“I can’t believe it,” she said. The freezing wind whipped through her hair, taking her breath away.

“Neither can I.” Matt said.

They looked at each other, speechless. It was snowing again. He kissed her, his hands moving to pull her closer into him.

“You're just everything,” he said against her mouth and she knew in that moment that nothing could ever come close to how beautiful he made her feel. Everything had fit perfectly into place.