Hallbjorn stomped into the Montgomery's foyer and kicked his snowy boots. "I didn't know it got this cold in Pennsylvania," he said in the crisp, jaunty accent Aria had missed since she'd left Iceland. "This feels just like home!"
"W-what are you doing here?" Aria stammered, not having left her post by the door.
Hallbjorn pulled his bottom lip into his mouth playfully. "I missed you. I wanted to see how you were doing."
"At ten o'clock at night on Christmas Eve?"
"My plane was rerouted here because of weather—I'm trying to get to New York, but there was a bad storm. Flights have already been canceled for tomorrow, too. I tried calling your house from the airport, but there was no answer, and I didn't know your cell phone number. I thought I'd take a risk and just come." He looked around. "I'm not interrupting anything, am I? Did I wake your family?"
Aria leaned against the wall, feeling dizzy. "They're all out of town. It's just me."
There were a million questions she wanted to ask him, but her mouth couldn't form the words. She hadn't seen Hallbjorn in two years, but he looked even better than she remembered: His tall, reedy body now had a bit more muscle on its frame. His white-blond air had grown to his chin. He still had the same handsome, angular face, but his eyes seemed even more piercingly blue than ever. And when he smiled, he had perfectly straight white teeth, the kind that deserved their own Aquafresh commercial. Just looking at him made her heart flutter.
He'd had braces when he and Aria had met. A week after her family had moved to Reykjavik, Aria had taken a bike ride around the town, feeling lonely and displaced and mixed up. It was only a few months after Ali had disappeared, and that still weighed heavily on her mind. She had hoped that getting away from Rosewood would help her recover everything that had happened, but it still felt so fresh and raw.
She'd heard music playing in a local coffee shop and had wandered in. A band had been playing on a small stage at the back, and a bunch of people were gathered around. During a break in songs, a blond guy had turned to Aria and asked her something in Icelandic. Aria had blushed and said the only two Icelandic words she'd learned so far: English, please. The boy had smiled. "Are you American?" he'd asked in perfect English. When Aria said yes, he'd welcomed her to Iceland and said his name was Hallbjorn.
After a few minutes of exchanging musical tastes and getting Aria's general impressions of Reykjavik, Hallbjorn had insisted on showing her around the country. The next day, he'd arrived at Aria's curb in the biggest SUV Aria had ever seen—everyone in Iceland drove massive-tired vehicles that could propel them over lava fields, glaciers, and snow. He'd taken her to see important Icelandic landmarks—the beautiful, clear waterfalls that looked like something out of the Lord of the Rings movies, the giant craters, the burbling volcanoes, and the one Akureyri Puffin Island, where puffin colonies spent part of the year before they migrated to Greece. They'd talked during the whole tour, never running out of things to say. Aria had found out that Hallbjorn was two years older than she was and wanted to study architecture, that he'd learned to drive a snowmobile at five years old, that he was a DJ in his spare time, and that he was addicted to American reality shows like Big Brother. In turn, Aria had told him about the boring little suburb she'd come from, how her father was doing research study here about the Icelandic beliefs in huldufork—eleven—and how, this past summer, her best friend had mysteriously disappeared.
At the end of the day, Aria had suggested going to Blue Lagoon, the all-natural salt hot springs the travel magazines couldn't stop raving about, but Hallbjorn had scoffed and said that was for tourists. He'd taken her to a secret hot spring instead. As they'd soaked in the warm, sulfuric-smelling water—Hallbjorn told her she'd get used to the smell—he'd leaned in close, took her hand, and kissed her. It had been Aria's first kiss.
They'd dated for four months, going to concerts, art openings, and Icelandic pony shows. Hallbjorn taught Aria how to drive a snowmobile, and she taught him how to knit and use her prized video camera. The whole thing felt like a dream. Aria might have been in Ali's cool clique in Rosewood, but boys still hadn't paid attention to her—they only wanted Ali. In Reykjavik, however, there was no Ali to make her feel like second best. More than that, there was no Ali telling her that she was being too kooky, too unapproachable, and too…Aria. Aria hadn't changed a thing about herself in Iceland, even leaving the pink streaks in her hair and the fake nose ring in her nose, and Hallbjorn had liked her anyway. In fact, he seemed to like her more for her uniqueness.
In February of that year, something horrible happened: Hallbjorn got a scholarship to a special boarding school in Norway for kids who wanted to study architecture. He'd left on Valentine's Day, and Aria had cried herself to sleep for months. They'd written back and forth at first, but after a while, Hallbjorn's letters had stopped coming. Aria had dated other Icelandic boys after him, but none of those relationships had been quite as special.
"How did you know my address?" Aria asked now. When her family had left Iceland, Hallbjorn had still been in Norway.
Hallbjorn peeled off his mittens. "When I got back from boarding school this fall, I stopped by to see you, but the new people who were living in your house said you'd moved back to the States. They gave me your address."
"Who are you visiting in New York?"
Hallbjorn gave Aria a blank look, almost like he hadn't expected this question. "Uh, some relatives," he said distractedly, vigorously rubbing his reddened nose. "But like I said, the plane was rerouted because of weather." He smiled at her sheepishly. "Do you mind if I stay here for two nights? The next plane to New York isn't until the twenty-sixth. I can pay you."
"You don't need to pay me," Aria scoffed. "I'm happy for the company."
She led him down the hall and told him to sit on the family-room couch while she made tea for both of them. As she waited for the water to boil, she called out, "So how is Iceland these days? I miss it so much."
"It's okay." Hallbjorn sounded dismissive. "Not too exciting."
Aria grabbed two mugs from a high shelf. "Do your parents mind that you're away for Christmas?"
"Uh, I'm not really sure."
"Is everything okay with them?" Hallbjorn's parents were two sturdy, athletic Icelanders who dressed alike and ran ultramarathons together. Aria briefly entertained the notion that Hallbjorn's parents might be going through the same stuff Ella and Byron were, but she just couldn't imagine it.
"No, no, everything's fine. I just planned this trip at the last minute."A bell tinkled from the other room. "Hey!" Hallbjorn exclaimed. "You've still got the wind chimes from that shop on Laugavegur!"
Aria carried the mugs of steaming tea into the family room. Hallbjorn was now stretched out on the couch, his long legs propped up on the ottoman. A tingly rush went through her as she settled next to him on the couch.
"So how's your family?" Hallbjorn asked.
"A little messed up right now," Aria admitted. She explained that her parents weren't together anymore. "My dad and brother are celebrating the Winter Solstice upstate. Remember how we used to do that?"
Hallbjorn's eyes lit up. "You hugged all those trees in the Hallormsstadarskogur! And you did that naked swim in Mr. Stefansson's pond!"
Aria groaned—she'd blocked out that unfortunate incident. "Yeah, and my dad didn't ask Mr. Stefansson beforehand. Thank goodness you showed up and explained everything to him." Hallbjorn's family lived only a mile away, and when Mr. Stefansson had appeared with a rifle, threatening to shoot the Montgomerys as they cavorted. Solstice-style, in the pond, Aria had quickly called for help.
Hallbjorn removed the tea bag from his mug. "Remember how your dad tried to get Mr. Stefansson to participate in the Solstice ritual with him?"
"Oh God, yes." Aria smacked her forehead. "Mr. Stefansson looked at him like he was crazy. My dad was like, 'but Mt. Stefansson, you believe in huldufolk! Why can't you believe in the Solstice, too?'"
"He's very serious about his huldufolk beliefs," Hallbjorn said. "Remember that shrine he built to them in the rocks?"
Aria giggled. Mr. Stefansson was convinced Icelandic elves lived at the back of his property. "He used to yell at us if we got too close to it." She smiled at Hallbjorn.
Their eyes met for a long beat, the steam from their untouched mugs of team swarming around their faces. Then Aria looked down at her lap. "I cried so hard when you went to Norway."
"You could have visited me at school." Hallbjorn touched Aria's hand.
"I didn't know if you wanted me to." In fact, she had visited Norway with Ella a few months after Hallbjorn had left for boarding school, even passing through the little village where the school was. Ella had urged Aria to inquire about Hallbjorn at the school's front desk, but Aria had been too shy and scared. What if Hallbjorn showed up to meet her with a girlfriend in tow? What if he laughed in her face?
"Of course I would have wanted you to." Hallbjorn scooted a little closer to her. "I thought about you a lot when I was away."
When she looked up again, Hallbjorn was staring at her intently. It felt so natural for them to pick up where they'd left off.
Aria smiled to herself. She'd thought what she needed was a quiet break to herself to get over Ezra and all the A drama, but maybe what she really needed was a new romance.