Monday: December 6th, 2015

When I turned up to Hyde park on the sixth day of Christmas, I was taken aback by the plethora of stalls, endless rides, and giant ferris wheel. In large letters at the entrance was 'Winter Wonderland'.

Hesitantly approaching the booth, I asked, "Is the 12 Days of Christmas Competition inside?"

The lady leaned over and said, "What? Speak up, love." Her accent was thick with Cockney inflections.

I repeated myself a little louder and then she grinned her gappy smile at me.

"Yeah, it's right up the back."

"Do I have to buy a ticket to go in?" I then asked.

"They free this mornin'. This is off-peak time. But on most afternoons it will cost ya' a fiver, and on weekends seven quid and fit'y pence."

Blinking at her, my brain lagged behind as it drew upon old knowledge of British money slang. After translating what she had said (£5 for afternoons and £7.50 for weekends), I thanked her and asked for a single ticket.

Feeling somewhat misplaced from the city I once considered my home, I walked through the gates and navigated my way past the stalls.

A gentle breeze blew through my parka, causing the hairs on my neck to stand up and me to huddle further into my jacket.

I hate that I'm no longer acclimatised, I thought to myself as I picked up the pace, eager to head back to dad's house for the warmth.

I was expecting a small booth. But instead I stumbled across an array of desks next to a stage, clearly labelled the '12 Days of Christmas Competition'. The stage in question was decorated in all sorts of reds, whites, and greens, with a large Christmas tree to the side and a blow up Santa on the other. It was a little tacky, if I'm being honest, but they certainly went all out. Though given the effort, I assumed many of the activities would take place on that stage.

Joining the queue, I slowly shuffled my way up as one by one the line grew shorter between me and the desk. As the minutes dragged on and the smell of food from the stalls wafted my way, my stomach began to growl.

After almost half an hour of waiting, I had finally reached the front. "I'd like to sign up to the competition," I said, voice a little hesitant.

Brows furrowing, the man evidently displeased by his ugly sweater he was sporting under his overcoat frowned at me before glancing over my shoulder. "Where's your partner?" he grumbled.

"What do you mean partner?" I replied.

"This is a competition for partners."

Pulling my flyer out, I placed it on the table. "Where on earth does it say partners on here?"

He heaved a sigh then gave me a look of disbelief. Awkwardly shifting forward in his seat, his protruding belly hit the desk as he reached across the table to my flyer, flipping it over to show me the back.

My eyes slowly skimmed over the page, taking in the words 'partner' and 'romantic' and 'spread love' and 'disqualify'.

"Well this is a load of bullshit," I exclaimed. First Rowan. Then dad. Then Jasper. Now this. How many rejections does a girl deserve in her first week of Christmas?

Sitting back, the rotund man huffed at me before saying, "I don't appreciate your tone. Those are the rules, okay? I don't write them."

"But what idiot puts such important information on the back?" I demanded. But as the words came out of my mouth, I realised it had an echo to it. Like someone nearby had said the same phrase verbatim.

Straightening up, I turned my head to my right in the direction my words had echoed. And then I saw his obsidian eyes.

A scowl took hold of my face as his brows shot up in surprise.

Turning back to the portly man, I snapped, "Whatever. I didn't want to do it anyway." Snatching up the flyer, I turned on my heel and began to scurry.

I had to get out of here. I couldn't look Jasper in the eyes again after what he did to me. And I couldn't let him see how much his actions had affected me because he'd just be satisfied.

Bypassing all the food stalls that had tickled my fancy on the way in, I briskly paced my way out of the 'wonderland', trying to put as much distance between me, him, and that stupid competition as possible.

But as I exited out of the archway, I heard my name being called behind me.

"Zara, wait up," I heard his voice shout.

I quickened my pace.

"Zara!" he tried again. I could hear his voice coming closer as he continued to call my name. "Are you seriously running from me now?" he panted, still gaining on me.

But before I even made it out of Hyde Park, his hand gripped my arm. "Don't touch me!" I hissed at him, yanking myself free from his grasp.

A myriad of emotions took a hold of his face: anger, shock, hurt, and guilt. The last one was what stayed as he lowered his gaze to the ground. "I'm sorry for what I did," he whispered.

"You're an asshat, fuckface, dodgy, wanker, dickhead, jerk."

Brows shooting up, he looked up at me and let a smile wash over him as he breathed a laugh. "A what?"

"An asshat, fuck—"

Chuckling, he said, "I heard you the first time. That's pretty specific."

"Yeah, well..." But I honestly had no comeback. With all the heartache over the past week, I didn't let myself think about what I would say to Jasper if by chance I ran into him in this big city again. And given that London had the population of over eight million, I thought the possibility was so slim that it wasn't worth my time.

Nonetheless, here he was. In front of me. Almost as if fate was playing some sick game. Or we were protagonists of a stupid novel and the author thought they were being funny making us meet again like this.

But the longer we stood there in silence—with the laughter of children echoing around us and the sound of the wind blowing through the leafless branches—the more awkward this situation became. "What do you want?" I finally asked.

"You... you were in the line for the Twelve Days of Christmas Competition, right?"

"So what if I was?"

"Did you sign up?"

Grimacing, I crossed my arms over my chest and mumbled, "It's for couples only. I evidently don't have someone here to do it with me."

"Do it with me," he then said, grabbing my attention once more. Gaze snapping back to him, I searched for his dishonesty. But his eyes pleaded at me.

I barked a laugh. "Have you gone mad?"

"Perhaps. But, look... I really want to do the competition and—"

"Why do you want to do the competition?"

His jaw clenched as all joy left his eyes. "The money, of course."

"Why do you need the money?"

"That's... that's beside the point."

"No. If you're asking me to do the competition with you, the asshat, fuckface, dodgy, wanker, dickhead, jerk," he nodded along with rolling eyes as I cycled through the six insult nicknames I had given him, "Then I deserve to know why."

"Okay... Why are you doing the competition?" he countered.

"I'm not."

"Why did you want to do it?"

Biting my lip, I looked away from his challenging eyes as I muttered, "The money, of course."

"But why do you want the money?"

"I... I have my reasons."

The expression that overcame his face said 'my point exactly'.

"Okay, fine. Let's not exchange reasons. Answer me this then... why should I do a competition with someone who totally belittled me the other day? Especially a competition that requires acting like a couple when you literally laughed in my face for assuming you were trying to kiss me?"

"That..." His gaze turned back to the ground. "That was completely uncalled for and I'm so sorry."

"Yeah. I'm sure you are..."

"I am," he insisted, eyes earnest as they looked back at me.

"Then why did you do that? The Jasper I knew didn't have a bone in his body that could be that cruel."

"I... Look, there's no excuse, really."

"Well you better give me one if you want me to even consider your proposition. Because 'I'm sorry' is not going to cut it."

"It was a combination of things?"

I waved my hand as if to say 'go on'.

"I was really really drunk. I have some... things going on at home that happened that day and I was really upset about it. And hearing you say you don't even remember what you did to me before you left honestly hurt so—"

"Are you trying to say you led me on and then humiliated me to get back at me for something I did when we were thirteen?"

He bit his lip and looked away. "I suppose I did. It's childish, I know."

"What could I possibly have done to have caused such a grudge? Because honestly, I don't remember anything other than being a little rude to everyone in my final month here."

His eyes met mine, clouds washing over them as he said, "It doesn't matter, Zara. It's in the past and I should have left it there. You and I are very different people than we were back then and I'm sorry that I let that affect how I treat you now."

Heaving a sigh, I shook my head. "Whatever. Okay, I accept your apology. Even though I still think I deserve to know."

A grin spread across his face as his eyes lit up. "So you'll do the competition with me?"

"I didn't say that."

"But you haven't not said it."

As he continued to wait, eyes pleading at me while I searched his face for more lies, that pit in my stomach continued to grow as that stupid saying echoed in my brain. Fool me once... I thought. "Sorry, Jasper. I just don't think I can act like that with you after what happened." I turned and began to walk away.

He didn't follow me this time, but he also didn't let me have the last word, that's for sure. "I said I was sorry, Zara. Please think about it. Call me if you change your mind. We can split the money!"

But I just continued to shake my head as I trudged my way back to the tube station.