2.

Imogen stood in her bedroom and turned in the exact centre of it. She felt transformed, different somehow. Her pyjamas fell differently. She ran her hands over the fabric. They were airier, softer. She had never felt so steady and calm in all her life. Usually thoughts flung in and out her mind like tiny peak hour fighter jets, but tonight everything was still and peaceful.

With a soft knock of the door, her dad poked his head into the room. "Still not in bed? It's midnight."

Imogen raised an eyebrow back at his tired face. "Me? Don't you have to get up early tomorrow?"

"Five AM get up. I'll be glad when this workshop is over," he groaned stepping into the room and wrapping his daughter up in a tired hug.

Imogen pressed her face into his chest and gave him a big squeeze. "That's what you get for being Canada's favourite urban scape-goat."

"I think I'll get that printed on my business cards," he chuckled, before pulling her back to look at her. "Seriously though, I've been so busy lately, it'll be nice to spend some quality time together. After the workshop is finished tomorrow night you and I should celebrate. Pizza. Ice cream. Waffles. A cheesy movie. You can braid my hair."

He waggled his eyebrows at his own bad joke and Imogen gave him a small smile.

"That sounds nice." A guilty sting swept through her. She had been so wrapped up in Fiona and the Frostival that she hadn't really missed spending time with her dad at all.

Her dad peered into her distant eyes, a concerned frown crossing his face. "You must be exhausted too. You've been so quiet since you got home tonight. Your 'festival of frost' was a success?"

Imogen quickly crossed the room to sit on her bed, hiding the blush rising in her cheeks. Distracted by Volta padding into the room, Mr Moreno chatted on as he ruffled at the bloodhound's fur. "You and Fiona put so much work into it, you both should be very pleased."

Imogen just smiled quietly to herself. Mr Moreno looked up her questioningly.

"Are you okay? You don't seem quite yourself tonight."

"You think? I was thinking that earlier."

"Anything you want to talk about?"

The question took Imogen by surprise. It wasn't unusual for her to talk out things that were happening in her life with her dad. And she did intend on telling him about her and Fiona. But right now, as she looked up at him, Imogen realised that she desperately wanted to talk to Fiona about how she felt and no one else.

Mr Moreno frowned at his daughter's far away look. "Did you and Fiona have a fight? I thought it was strange that you didn't invite her in for hot chocolate tonight."

A cackle burst from Imogen's lips as she remembered her dad suddenly opening the front door, almost busting them mid kiss goodbye.

"No! No, we weren't fighting. Really not fighting."

Mr Moreno eyed her curiously and shrugged. "Okay, well, tomorrow night you're going to tell me all about your triumphant Frostival. Deal?"

"Deal. Definite deal. Goodnight, Dad."

As her father closed the door behind him, Imogen fell back onto her bed with a sigh, pulling Volta along with her. She rolled on her back and absently stroked the bloodhound's long ear. A lump jabbed her in the lower back and fishing around beneath her she pulled free one of her bright red woolen gloves. Imogen pulled the glove onto her left hand before slowly lacing her fingers together with that of her bare right hand. Her lips fell open with a small smile.

She had imagined kissing Fiona for months now. Over and over in different settings and scenarios. But the thrill of holding her hand had exhilarated her in ways she never imagined. Sure, she had thought it would be nice, like the comfortable, warm way it had felt to hold Eli's hand. But holding Fiona's hand had filled her body with a euphoric giddiness, like she was a kite about to float away into the solar system and Fiona was all there was to tether her to earth.

She thought of the way Fiona had quietly held her hand as she had walked her home. They had gone on every ride and played every game, squealing and yelling and laughing until the Frostival had ended. Then Holly J had jumped in a cab and Fiona was taking Imogen home to meet her 10pm curfew. They walked in a comfortable silence. So much passed between them but neither seemed able to put it into words yet.

Imogen had realised suddenly that Fiona was nervous. Her grey eyes sneaking sideways glances at her, a small anxious smile flitting across her lips. Imogen looked down at their intertwined hands and gave an assuring squeeze. This was right, everything as it should be.

Far too quickly they found themselves standing at Imogen's house. Imogen took the first steps up to the front door and looked back. Fiona, still holding her hand, stood back at the bottom of the stairs. A strange, undecided look played over her face.

Imogen smiled at her and tugged her to the top of the stairs. "Traditionally this would be the part where we say goodnight."

Fiona looked away, down the steps, up at the sky, anywhere to avoid meeting Imogen's look.

Imogen reached out and gently turned Fiona's face toward her. A thin sheen of tears covered her eyes, her face had gone pale and her cheeks flushed bright. Imogen sucked in a sharp breath. She had seen Fiona upset before, but never like this - so exposed, so vulnerable. A surge of emotion filled Imogen's chest and heart and lungs and she released the captured air in a shuddered breath.

"You're coming back."

Fiona sighed, swallowing back her tears with a short laugh. "I'm coming back."

Imogen looked at her with intense, assured eyes. Fiona kept her eyes down and squeezed her hands hard, as if testing that Imogen were truly before her, that this moment was real. Finally Fiona let her grey eyes rise to meet Imogen's and Imogen was struck by the depth of feeling she saw in them. She couldn't wait anymore.

Stepping in, Imogen pulled Fiona as close as she dared. Her voice came to her as barely a whisper. "Fiona..."

Fiona looked down at Imogen's lips and back up to meet her eyes. A small smile curved at the edges of her mouth. Imogen smiled back, and leaning in, let her lips brush softly against Fiona's in a sweet kiss. A small gasp escaped her as she felt Fiona respond, and for a long moment they stood kissing deeply.

Then the lock of the front had door clicked open with a scrape, and the front door swung open. Fiona sprung back with a yelp, almost toppling into the bushes. Mr Moreno stuck his head out squinting in the dark, oblivious to what he'd interrupted.

"Ah-ha! I thought I heard someone out here. Anyone for marshmallow hot chocolates?"

And with a beetroot red face, Imogen had stood stunned as Fiona had mumbled goodbye and trotted off into the night.

Back in the present, Imogen sighed in frustration and took Volta's face into her hands. "How can that be how we leave it, Volta?"

Volta opened her mouth and for a moment Imogen thought that maybe the dog was going to say something insightfully inspired. But instead she stuck out her fat pink tongue and sent a hot yawn puffing into Imogen's face.

"Phwar! Doggie dinner breath!" She pushed her pillow into the bloodhounds face and the big dog wrestled her back. "Okay, okay! Truce!"

She stared at the dog and a sudden decision clicked inside of her and filled her with energy. Imogen jumped off the bed and poked her head into the hallway. Her dad's loud rhythmic snore echoed from his room. Dead to the world, she thought slyly.

She soundlessly darted back into her room and punched the keys on her cellphone.

There wasn't a lot of time. But there was time.