4. Ned

O f course I made it. Because once I set out to do something, I followed right though. With everything. I was meticulous and professional.

I'd turned up with a rucksack full of American foodstuffs that made my Aunt Violet scream with excitement. I'd remembered what she always liked, and anyway, I'd asked her for a shopping list. All those treats my mum used to send her—Twinkies and coffee-flavoured M&Ms and hot Cheetos and Hershey's kisses. She said they tasted of vomit but still ripped the packet open immediately and unwrapped one like it was some kind of religious ritual.

"Oh, Ned." She'd laughed. I'd laughed too.

I'd got off the plane and felt my lungs fill with fresh air. Relatively fresh. The airport was one of Scandinavia's largest hubs, and I seriously doubted the air was any cleaner than what I breathed in the middle of Phoenix, but after snoring away on the train to get up here, I'd stumbled out into the evening sun and felt something different hit my soul. The scent of forest overwhelmed me. Pine. Ozone. The soft warmth of the evening sun.

I wasn't religious, but I'd smiled like the angels had been singing right there. Jesus Christ, indeed. My instincts had been right. My whole body had sunk into place, and I suddenly had an urge to get on my exhausted knees and kiss the dusty asphalt under my feet .

I didn't, I promise, but I had smiled all the way over to the car park where Aunt Violet's old truck was parked in the same spot where she'd dropped me off, ten years earlier.

I remembered all these things because they had been traumatic, etched into my brain. The biggest mistake of my life had been coming here in the first place. The second biggest had been leaving. Maybe. What did I know?

I'd embraced Violet like she'd embraced me, yet my mind was drowning in things that swished me back to years ago, when I'd been young, carefree…sort of. The mindfuck was throwing me for a loop.

I suddenly had no idea who I was supposed to be, no clue who I was. Not really. I didn't fit into my life. Not at home. Not here. At home, I was the square peg in the round hole, no pun intended. Here, I was too square to fit in the world around me. The world that felt too open, too full of imaginary promise.

I'd been happy here, but it honestly felt like it had all taken place in another lifetime, centuries ago.

Aunt Violet's sprawling farm had gained a few more buildings. Her cattle were the same large, slow beasts still attracting far too many flies. The mosquitoes were everywhere too, especially at dusk, and walking into the village this evening had earned me a few infuriating bites.

Had I remembered to cover myself in the obligatory foul-smelling insect-repellent spray? No, of course I hadn't. I was also wearing thin slacks and short sleeves. I was stupid as anything. The critters buzzed around me like I was a giant pot of honey. I probably was to them, drenched in my fancy aftershave with notes of wood and musk.

I had to laugh at myself, slapping another mosquito to death against my neck.

But here I was, walking into the familiar building, which somehow looked smaller than in my scattered memories, surrounded by people I vaguely remembered. People with more grown-up features and less hair. More hair in some cases. Pernilla immediately reintroduced herself as a feminist who encouraged women to let their body hair grow. I nodded respectfully as she showed off her armpits. Okay? I shook people's hands, smiled happily and returned the hearty man hugs, the women's delighted kisses and warm embraces. They were thrilled to see me, and I kept my smile, letting their affection soothe my nerves.

I had no idea why I was so nervous.

Well, no. I knew exactly why I was nervous. I wasn't always in the right, hadn't always made the right life choices, but I was here, and that was the point. Everyone had defining moments in their lives—great successes, awful mistakes. You did things in your life. Survived those experiences. The important thing was to somehow try to…well, I had no clue really.

I spotted him straight away, like his very presence had beckoned me to him. It always had. Even back at school, I'd walked into a room and immediately my eyes had been drawn to whichever corner he'd be huddled up in.

Edward Backman. Teddy.

I could feel my face gaining colour as well as broadening into an involuntary smile. He looked exactly the same—tall, broad, a bit of scruff on his top lip and chin, and all that wild hair. The only thing missing was Flora, his constant companion. She'd always guarded him like a hawk. He'd been glued to her side.

Teddy.

Fuck.

I shook more hands and tried to gather myself up, smiled at people's jokes. I was surprised how well my Swedish held up, how my mouth found words before I even had to think what they were supposed to be.

I might as well get this over and done with before my nerves got the better of me and I chicken out.

Two bottles of beer found their way into my hands, and I climbed the staircase up to the rickety veranda. He was on his own still, luckily, because I didn't want to take my chances of having to pry him from Flora's constant grip.

Freeing a hand, I got the old rusty gate open and somehow didn't trip or make a fool of myself even though I was staring at him, amazed that I could still read his body language like a book. If he could've hurled himself over the edge of the veranda without breaking his legs or becoming entangled in very prickly bushes, he would have .

"Hey," I said far too casually considering my insides felt like they were churning butter.

"Ned."

He wouldn't look at me. But then he did, and the churning cranked up to full speed.

"Edward," I said. I had no idea why.

"It's still Teddy," he said quietly. "Don't be a dick."

Oh. Okay.

"Edward never suited you." I sat down next to him on the old wooden bench that hurt my back and creaked alarmingly, doing nothing to calm my messy head.

"And you? Edward?" he asked, glancing over at me with a small cheeky smile on his face, like he was quoting Shakespeare at me and expecting me to play ball.

"Nah. Never worked for me either." It hadn't. "Edward and Edward. In the same class. What were the chances? Especially out here. We had, like, three Mathiases and four Thereses—"

"And two Edwards. Eventually."

"But I was always Ned. And you've always been Teddy."

We were talking bullshit. I wasn't sure I was comfortable with this conversation.

"Remember the girls? TED and NED sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g ," I sang, and he laughed. I was grateful for that, but then he looked straight at me.

"Why are you here?"

Yeah. That's why I liked Swedish people. They talked sparingly, but when they did, they said all the right words.

"I don't know," I admitted, trying to get my head in gear. "I really don't know."

Which was, of course, when Flora tumbled up the stairs and popped her head over the gate.

"Oh, hi, Ned!" She waved enthusiastically. "Blimey, you still look the same. I always thought you looked like that guy…you know… High School Musical ?"

"Zac Efron," Teddy muttered .

Yeah. Sweden was still hopelessly stuck in the nineties. I wasn't. And, for the record, I looked nothing like Zac Efron, whatever Flora said.

"Anyway." Flora stayed on the other side of the gate, trying to signal something with her head movements while I secretly willed her to leave us alone. I didn't dislike her, but Teddy and I…we had a lot of catching up to do. "Guys, they're about to do speeches, and the teachers have arrived. And Thomas Skoglund. Did you know he played professional hockey for a while?"

I pretended to be surprised. I did know, actually. I had Thomas on my Instagram. He'd visited once. Or twice possibly.

Teddy got up and climbed over the gate, despite it being unlocked, and I shrivelled to nothing as he turned his head to check I was following. Then he came back and took my hand, keeping hold of it to steady me until I was through the gate. He didn't need to. He just did, like it was natural when it wasn't. We were both tall, strong men, him with a bit of bulk to my slimmer frame, yet I felt weak, light-headed, as I followed him down the steps and watched him disappear into the building.

I shook more hands, dished out awkward man-hugs, got handed a plate, which I filled with random items of food that I failed to eat. I wasn't hungry, but I was tired, and I was shivering in my shirt. Jet lag was a bitch—I didn't even dare to think of what time it was in my normal time zone. Here, the sun was up almost twenty-four hours a day, so I was confused. My head was muddled and my body was throwing some kind of revolution on the inside and the noise around me made me want to scream.

I didn't. I talked to whoever was close by, spouting polite bullshit, and I kept looking around for Teddy. Fuck knows why.

I spotted him an hour later, walking out the front door, which made me panic, because I still hadn't said all the words. The important words.

I was so confused. So, so confused.

He was standing further down the street, laughing with Flora, who was clearly drunk, standing in bare feet with her high heels dangling from her fingertip as she twirled around like a ballerina .

I loved Teddy's laughter.

I'd always watched him, his very presence giving me that strange mixture of butterflies and peace. Not that he was any kind of male model or vision of beauty or whatever. He looked nothing like any actor I'd ever seen on screen. He was just…Teddy. Steady and solid. Blue eyes and all that hair. He'd grown some kind of attempt at a moustache, weird curls of hair caressing his cheeks. Large hands that he combed through the mop on his head as he stood tall to let Flora lean her forehead against his chest.

An intimate gesture. A loving couple.

I knew better.

One of the local taxis turned up, and even that made me smile because they still used the same old cars with the same weathered sign on the roof, like an old-fashioned taxi, bold lettering proclaiming to cover the entire county with twenty-four-hour service. Memories flooded back of laughter, both his, and mine.

He kissed Flora's cheek and she slapped his arm, almost tripping over her own feet as she climbed into the taxi. I laughed too as Teddy carefully closed the door on her and then opened it again so she could hand him the tin of beer she still had in her hand. Yeah, no alcoholic beverages in taxis, Flora. I almost scolded her myself.

He still hadn't seen me watching him, because why would he? He was almost past the pizza place across the square before my brain caught up and I realised he was leaving, walking towards the south end of the village, towards the main road, where he'd take the exit on the left and walk for miles, over the hills and past the frog pond.

I'd walked it myself, more times than I cared to remember. The road to Aunt Violet's place was the next exit to the right, and then he'd have to just keep walking. And it…

"Ted!" I shouted, my feet having set off in a sprint. "Teddy! Hey, man. Wait up!"

He turned around but not until I was desperately out of breath and had shouted at him at least four more times .

"Man," I panted out as I finally caught up with him.

"You trying to un-alive yourself?" He wasn't smiling. Neither was I.

"I need to talk to you," I huffed out, my hands on my knees. I was fitter than this, but it was also, like, four in the morning where I came from and I had downed several beers and eaten barely anything.

I needed my head examined. I was also doing that American thing Aunt Violet always berated me for. Getting in people's faces, sticking my nose where it didn't belong. Being over-friendly.

"Why are you even here, Ned?" He didn't sound angry. Just…I don't know. Tired?

I was tired. I was so, so tired.

"Can I walk with you?" I asked, sounding miserable. Why was I here? I had no bloody clue anymore.

"Shouldn't you be back there with all your mates? I mean, Thomas was pouring everyone his homemade shots." He was waving his arms around, trying to…I don't know. Get me away from him? "I wouldn't drink them. I'd probably go blind from that stuff."

Silence. Just us. The sky and the earth, and it seemed too big. Bigger than anything I could deal with.

"I know I—" I started, but he cut me off.

"Yeah, you did. And it was a shitty thing to do, and then you left. Like it was nothing."

"We were just kids." A stupid excuse. One that didn't hold up anymore.

"And it meant nothing," came his reply.

It had meant everything , and I had no words to explain it, even now, ten years later. It had been something so small and insignificant, but it had been…everything.

I shrugged with unease. He took another step closer to me, right there on the high street .

"You never even talked to me. A whole year you were here and never spoke to me. We were never friends. Never hung out. Explain that, Ned Anderson. Because here you are, ten years later, treating me like we're some kind of buddies ?"

He'd said that last word, mimicking my American twang, mocking me. I had no upper hand here. All I had was guilt. And a need to grovel.

"I know," I said weakly because he was right. About everything. I didn't know what I'd been thinking.

He sighed. "Go home, Ned."

Then his big hand fell on my shoulder. He squeezed my arm, and I shivered.

"In the end?" he said. "It didn't matter, did it?"