The Circle (Hammer) - By Elfgren, Sara B.,Strandberg, Mats Page 0,90

she lifts it, and droplets of boiling liquid spatter her skin.

‘Careful,’ Max says, taking it from her.

His hand touches hers and she’s happy that he’s holding the cup or she would have spilt it over both of them. ‘Thanks,’ she mumbles.

He dries the cup with a napkin, then hands it back to her. Minoo’s damp fingers slip on the smooth porcelain handle. She raises the cup slowly to her lips again and sips.

‘How about you?’ he asks.

‘What?’

Max pulls up his leg slightly so that he’s facing her. His arm is resting on the back of the sofa. If she moved a little closer he’d be able to put it around her, like he did when they were sitting on the steps at school. She’d curl up against him, rest her head on his chest.

‘I suspect you and Engelsfors don’t mix very well either,’ he says.

Minoo gives a silly, nervous laugh and puts down her cup. Her hand is far too unsteady. ‘I hate this town,’ she says.

‘I can understand that,’ he says. ‘You don’t fit in here.’ He must have seen the anxious look in her eyes because he reaches out and lays his hand on hers. ‘I meant it as a compliment,’ he says.

His hand is so warm and soft against hers. And he doesn’t take it away.

‘I grew up in a little backwater, not far from here, that’s just like Engelsfors,’ he says. ‘I remember how trapped I felt. How lonely and claustrophobic. But later you see that there doesn’t have to be anything wrong with you because you don’t fit in. Could even be the other way around.’

‘Rebecka fitted in,’ Minoo says. ‘At least, nobody thought she was strange. But she was still different.’

‘She meant a lot to you,’ Max says softly.

That was an opening, as if he’d said, ‘It’s okay to talk if you want to.’

‘Not just to me,’ she says. ‘Everybody loved her. Especially Gustaf, her boyfriend. They were such a nice couple.’

Minoo manages to stop talking and leans back into the sofa. His hand is still on hers. She wonders if the back of your hand can sweat. She turns her gaze towards the woman on the wall. ‘Who painted that? The original, I mean.’ Good thing I pointed out I knew it was a poster and not an original, she thinks to herself.

Max removes his hand. ‘Dante Gabriel Rossetti,’ he says, sounding a little like his teacher-self. ‘He belonged to an English art movement – the Pre-Raphaelites. The model’s name was Jane Morris. She was Rossetti’s muse. In this one he painted her as Persephone, who was carried off by Hades, god of the underworld. She became his sad queen.’

Minoo gazes at the woman’s milky-white skin and thinks that she must look like a monster by comparison. ‘It’s beautiful,’ she says, and turns back to Max. ‘She’s beautiful.’

‘Do you remember the friend I was telling you about? The one who committed suicide?’ he asks softly.

Minoo nods.

‘Her name was Alice. She showed me that picture … She looked so much like her, it was uncanny. She used to joke that she was Jane Morris’s reincarnation.’

‘You loved her.’ Minoo doesn’t know where those words came from.

Max looks at her in surprise, as if she’s woken him up. ‘Yes,’ he answers. ‘I did.’

She meets his gaze and holds it.

‘You’re a very unusual person, Minoo,’ he says quietly. ‘I wish …’

He falls silent.

‘What?’ she asks, in a voice that is no more than a whisper.

She moves closer to him – just a hair’s breadth – but she feels as if she’s just thrown herself off a cliff. It’s now or never. Let it happen, she thinks. Please, let it happen.

Max’s hand, which just a moment ago was resting on the back of the sofa, finds its way to her shoulder and lies there.

It’s as if they’ve become each other’s reflection. When he moves towards her, she moves towards him, until they’re so close that their lips meet.

Minoo has always worried that she’d do something wrong the first time she kissed someone. But Max is kissing her now and it’s not difficult at all. It’s simple, it’s perfect. His lips are warm and soft and taste a little of tea. His hands are on her back, then on her waist, and she moves in closer to him.

Then he stops himself. His lips pull away from hers and he straightens, takes away his hands. He presses the tips of his fingers to his forehead and shuts his eyes tightly,