Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Stefan
I matched my pace to Kieran’s as we walked along Kleiststra?e, adjusting without thinking, letting the rhythm settle into something natural. Beside me, Kieran was quieter than he’d been at the café. He didn’t seem withdrawn, however.
He’s thinking.
I recognised the signs—the slight furrow in his brow, the way his gaze drifted ahead rather than around us, as if he were working something through internally before committing to it aloud.
I found it appealing, and if I were honest, a little surprising. I hadn’t expected Kieran to say yes so quickly, with very little hesitation. That, more than anything, had caught my attention.
We reached Wittenbergplatz, and I pointed across the street. “That’s KaDeWe, Berlin’s biggest department store.” I smiled. “And probably its most expensive too. It has a bread department to die for.”
Kieran stared at me. “Bread?”
I had to laugh. “You will soon learn that in Germany, we love our bread.” When he didn’t respond but lapsed into silence once more, I knew I had to say something.
I wasn’t sure what to lead with, so I went with the obvious.
“You’re very quiet.”
Kieran let out a small breath, as if I’d pulled him back from wherever he’d been. “Sorry. I was just… thinking.”
“I’d noticed.”
Kieran glanced at me, and a flicker of amusement broke through. “Is it that obvious?”
“Yes.”
He laughed.
We walked on for a few steps in comfortable silence, and Kieran seemed to take in everything: the shop fronts, the traffic, the cafés spilling out onto the pavement, and the men passing us by in leather, harnesses, and boots. The city was already shifting with the energy of the week.
Kieran noticed, and I watched it happen in real time—the quick glances, the second looks, the effort not to stare.
I felt sure I was witnessing curiosity, not discomfort.
As we neared Kurfürstendamm, Kieran cleared his throat. “Can I ask you something?”
“You can ask,” I replied. “Whether I answer is another matter.”
He smiled at that. “Fair enough.” He took a breath. “Yesterday—on the train… Why were you flirting with me?”
I blinked. “For the most obvious reason.” I smiled. “I find you attractive.”
He swallowed. “You’re very straightforward.”
I smiled again. “It saves time.”
Kieran let out a small, disbelieving laugh. “I’m not used to that.”
“I can tell.”
A pause.
“And to be honest, I don’t know what to make of it,” he admitted. After another moment’s hesitation, he said in a low voice, “And what about now?”
I looked at him. “Now what?” I echoed as we stopped and waited to cross the street.
Kieran’s expression was careful, but there was something beneath it, something more deliberate than before.
“Now… are you still flirting with me?”
I didn’t break eye contact. “Yes.”
He exhaled slowly. “Right.”
This is delicious. And Kieran was a delight.
The lights changed and we crossed. Kieran smiled when he saw the green Walk sign. “That’s different.”
“That is Ampelm?nn,” I told him. “And you’ll only find him in Berlin.”
We walked through the pedestrianised area, and he smiled at the sight of the trees.
I didn’t want to lose the thread of our conversation.
“About my flirting…” I tilted my head to one side. “You haven’t told me to stop.”
Kieran didn’t answer immediately. Then he straightened his shoulders. “No, I haven’t.”
A trickle of anticipation slid down my spine. This didn’t feel random or casual.
We are moving in a direction.
Where to remained to be seen.
I glanced at Kieran again. There is more here than simple attraction.
I didn’t know what yet, but I intended to find out.
We stopped at the corner of Hardenbergstra?e. “And now that you know I am definitely flirting with you, does it change anything?”
Kieran held my gaze for a moment. “I don’t know.”
An honest answer. I liked that.
“It doesn’t have to,” I told him.
Kieran studied me. “You make it sound simple.”
“It can be,” I said with a shrug. “If you let it.” As we strolled, I found myself watching Kieran again. “You’re not uncomfortable.”
It wasn’t a question.
Kieran shook his head. “No.”
“Good.” I paused. “But you’re also not entirely certain what you’re doing here.”
He let out a breath. “No, I’m not.”
I sighed. “You don’t have to decide everything at once. Berlin is a good place to take your time.”
Kieran glanced at me. “You sound very certain of that.”
“I am.”
“From experience?”
I smiled. “Yes.”
The Lions’ Gate entrance to the zoo was ahead of us, people gathering in loose lines, the low hum of conversation filling the space. I’d already bought our tickets online.
Kieran slowed as we approached.
“I had a conversation yesterday,” he said, almost to himself. “With my friend. He said I shouldn’t rush into… labels.”
I nodded. “He’s right.”
Kieran glanced at me, surprised. “You think so?”
“Yes. You don’t need to decide what you are before you experience anything. That’s… backwards.”
Kieran absorbed that in silence. “And you?” he asked after a moment. “Do you always—” He hesitated, clearly searching for the words. “—approach things like this?”
I considered the question. “Not always. But when I see something I like, I tend not to pretend I don’t.”
Kieran’s breathing caught, and he stared at me for a few seconds.
I held the barcode against the ticket machine, and we walked through the barrier. I stopped a short way from the entrance. “What would you like to see first?”
Kieran looked at me with a grin. “I have absolutely no idea.”
I chuckled. “Good. That makes two of us.” As we opened the folded map, one word came to mind.
Careful.
This one was worth taking my time with, and now I really wanted to see where it led.
Kieran
The zoo was bigger than I expected.
Not just in size, but in feel. Wide paths, open spaces, trees everywhere… It was more like a park than anything else. The noise of the city faded almost immediately.
We walked side by side, unhurried, past the lion enclosure, the giraffes, the elephants… And all the while, we talked. The conversation came easily with safe topics like music, travel, my observations so far about the city.
I found myself relaxing. It was surprisingly easy to be with Stefan.
Too easy, perhaps.
We stopped at an enclosure where a group of monkeys swung effortlessly between ropes and branches, their movements quick and unpredictable. I had to smile.
“They make it look so simple.”
Stefan glanced at me. “Most things are, when you don’t think too much about them.”
I let out a quiet laugh. “I have no idea how to do that.”
“I had noticed.” Stefan’s tone was light, and it carried no sting.
We moved on, past the female rhino, and the ridiculously cute red panda who wouldn’t come down from his tree, despite the coaxing shouts of the many children who stopped there.
At some point—I wasn’t entirely sure when—Stefan’s hand settled briefly at the small of my back as we navigated through a narrow crowd. It was no more than a guiding touch, and it was gone almost as soon as I registered it.
And yet the warmth of it lingered.
I became aware of where Stefan was in relation to me, his proximity.
We stopped again, this time at a glass enclosure.
Inside, a large tiger paced slowly back and forth, its muscles shifting beneath its skin with quiet, controlled power.
I watched it, transfixed. “There’s something unsettling about that.”
Stefan stepped closer to me. “Yes. Because it’s contained.”
I glanced at him. “What do you mean?”
Stefan’s gaze remained focused on the animal. “All that strength,” he said quietly. “All that instinct. And nowhere for it to go.”
My chest tightened, and I wasn’t sure why. We stood there a moment longer, close enough that I was aware—again—of Stefan’s presence. The heat of him. The solid line of his arm.
I shifted, not any great distance from him, but apparently enough for him to notice.
“Come,” Stefan said after a moment. “There’s more to see.”
I nodded, although it took me a second to move.
As we walked on, I became aware of something I hadn’t expected.
I wasn’t just noticing the city anymore—I was noticing Stefan.
And I wasn’t entirely sure what to do about that.
“About Hans…”
I groaned. “Do we have to talk about him? Because that was embarrassing.”
“How did you come to meet him in the first place?”
“It was my friend’s idea. I used to speak German, a long, long time ago.”
Stefan’s eyes twinkled. “And how long ago is that, exactly?”
“I was still in my teens, put it that way.”
We stopped at the elephant enclosure and leaned on the rail.
“What German do you remember?”
I hesitated. “That depends.”
“On what?”
I bit my lip. “On whether you want the honest answer or the impressive one.”
Stefan grinned. “Let’s start with the impressive one.”
I cleared my throat. Then, with all the confidence of someone who hadn’t spoken the language in years, I intoned, “Mein Name ist Kieran. Ich komme aus England.”
Stefan nodded gravely. “Strong opening. I like it.”
“Danke,” I said, encouraged. “Ich habe einen Bleistift.”
He stilled. “I see.” He coughed. “Well, yes, it is important to have a pencil.”
And because I couldn’t stop myself, I added, “I also have a rubber.”
That did it.
Stefan turned away, his shoulders shaking.
“Do you now?” he managed to croak.
“It was very important in my German lessons,” I said defensively.
“I’m sure it was.”
We started walking again, and now I was determined to remember more.
“Der Mann ist alt und die Frau ist jung,” I declared.
Stefan glanced at me. “Who exactly was this old man and young woman? Were they in the textbook?”
I ignored him. “I can also ask where the train station is.”
“Now that is always useful.”
“And,” I added, with what I felt was a flourish, “my hovercraft is full of eels.”
Stefan stopped again. This time, he just gaped at me. “Your—what?”
“It was in the textbook.” I shrugged. “I assume it comes up a lot in conversation.”
Stefan stared at me for a long moment. “Yes,” he announced solemnly. “All the time.” His lips twitched.