Ramblings.

Nestled between a corner bookstore with glowing windows and a boutique, a woman stands at a bus stop, squinting at a transit map like she’s trying to memorize every route in case there’s a test later. Her gaze darts between the map and the passing crowds, frantic and unfocused in a way that’s kind of endearing.

She’s completely lost and clueless. And completely ignored.

Azzi should keep walking. She knows that. There’s a hot shower waiting at home, calling her name, promising to thaw her frozen limbs after a brutal double session. Her body aches in that all too familiar way that means she’s pushed it maybe a little farther than the trainers would approve of.

Still, she can’t tear her eyes away.

The woman steps toward a passing man, frustration tightening her sharp jawline as the wind tangles the loose golden waves escaping from beneath her beanie. She says something, her voice barely audible over the traffic, but he doesn’t even slow. Just brushes past her without a word.

More pedestrians hurry by, wrapped in wool coats and thick scarves, eyes fixed forward, too focused on getting home or making dinner reservations to spare her a glance. Every few moments, a gust of wind sweeps through the street, rattling outdoor café chairs and making the blonde tuck her chin deeper into her jacket.

Azzi knows that look.

She’s worn it herself. Not that long ago, either. Lost. Overwhelmed. Struggling with the language, the customs, the bus routes everyone else seems to understand instinctively. She’s still lost in some ways, but that’s a separate issue she doesn’t have the energy to delve into right now.

She exhales, the breath visible in the cold, tightens her scarf, and crosses the busy street.

"Kann ich Ihnen helfen?"

The blonde’s head snaps up, blue eyes wide with panic. She shakes her head quickly and turns back to the map, shoulders curling inward like she’s bracing for another failed interaction.

Okay. Different approach.

“Can I help you?” Azzi asks again, switching to English as she places a light hand on the woman’s shoulder to get her attention.

Blue eyes, bright despite the fatigue, flick over Azzi’s face. The panic softens into mild relief. Still, exhaustion lingers in the hollows beneath her eyes, suggesting she’s been fighting this city all day. The purplish tint to her exposed fingers as they trace the colorful lines on the map confirms the suspicion.

“Thank God. Someone who speaks English,” she breathes.

The sincerity of it makes Azzi smile. She takes a moment to actually look at her now that she’s closer. Between the American accent, the oversized duffle bag slung over her shoulder, and the useless leather jacket, she’s clearly not a local. A jacket like that won’t do a damn thing against a German winter, no matter how good it looks. Neither will the flimsy beanie perched on her head. 

And no gloves? 

Rookie mistake.

“How can I help?” Azzi asks, keeping her voice easy.

The blonde’s grin is bright despite the exhaustion settling into her bones. She seems more at ease already as she extends her hand.

“I’m Paige.”

Something warm zips up Azzi’s spine when their hands meet. She isn’t sure why that surprises her, but it does. She pulls her striped scarf tighter around her neck, unsure if she’s blocking out the cold or the feeling, and quickly releases Paige’s hand, flexing her fingers to shake it off.

Needing something to do with her hands she tucks a stray curl behind her ear.

“Azzi,” she supplies in return after finally finding the ability to speak. 

Paige clears her throat and glances back at the map like she’s trying to refocus, though it’s obvious she has no idea what she’s looking at. Azzi can’t blame her. Four years in Germany and she’s mostly fluent now, but she still remembers those early months. 

So when Paige looks back up at her, pleading and desperate, Azzi doesn’t hesitate.

“Where do you need to go?”

Paige exhales in relief and pulls a crumpled piece of paper from her pocket. She studies it, then blushes. Azzi knows it’s not from the cold this time, and takes it gently from her numb fingers.

“Oh, I know where this is,” she says, nodding vaguely behind her. “It’s a couple of miles uptown, near my favorite bar.”

Paige smiles, grateful, but the apprehension doesn’t fully fade.

“Can you point to where I should go to grab the next bus? I need to get out of the cold.”

Azzi lets out a soft laugh before she can stop herself, catching it just in time.

“What’s so funny?” Paige asks, smiling despite her current situation.

Azzi guides her gaze back toward the map mounted on the metal pole beneath the swinging stoplight, placing a hand lightly on her lower back.

“We’re here,” she says, pointing, “and you need to go all the way over here.”

Her finger drags across the map as she speaks, ignoring the bite of cold metal through her thin glove, and the warmth of Paige leaning in just a little too close. Azzi shifts, pretending it’s for visibility, not because her nervous system has suddenly become unhelpfully aware of the blonde.

“The walk to the other bus stop is as long as the walk to your place.”

Paige groans, dropping her face into her hands.

“Either the taxi driver didn’t understand me, or he saw an easy target and robbed me of a bunch of euros.”

Azzi squeezes her arm gently. “I parked my car around the corner, and I live just a few blocks from where you’re going. Why don’t you let me give you a ride?”

It’s a lie. A complete lie. She lives across town, the opposite direction entirely.

Still, something about Paige tugs at her. The homesickness she rarely acknowledges stirs at the sound of an American voice. And yes,fine, the fact that Paige is attractive doesn’t hurt.

Azzi smiles, a little shy. “We could grab some coffee on the way to warm up. There’s a cute little place right around the corner.”

Paige stiffens instantly. “I’m married.”

She lifts her left hand, platinum band catching the dull light. Azzi laughs without thinking.

“Okay,” she laughs, hands thrown in the air in surrender. “I was just offering a ride and a friendly cup of coffee. I don’t make a habit of picking up helpless Americans off the streets and seducing them over lattes.”

Although she absolutely should.

Paige relaxes, relief washing over her features.