‘It wasn’t a date!’

‘It wasn’t a date!’ Emma gives you an oh-fucking-really look, but you stand your ground. ‘It was no kind of date,’ you insist. ‘We spent the entire time talking about you, and she ended up giving me advice on how to apologise. Then she told me to go get you, and walked off. To be honest…’ This feels slightly weird to say, but it’s true. ‘She felt more like a best mate than a girl, if that makes sense. Reminded me of the chicks I used to hang out with back home.’

Emma takes a deep breath, obviously trying to process all that.

‘Right,’ she says, slowly. ‘So. You went on a no-kind-of-date with – her – and at no point did either of you think it was romantic. At. All.’

‘At no point,’ you tell her flatly – and maybe she can see the truth of it in your eyes, because her eyebrows furrow uncertainly. ‘I don’t move on from people that fast, anyway. I’m not physically capable of it. I thought we might have broken up, remember? I was just getting started being miserable. I was halfway through digging in to be obsessed with you for the next eighteen months.’

Emma almost smiles at that, but she still looks unsure. And you can’t really blame her, you realise; it seriously doesn’t look good, and you should have known someone would catch you on camera.

‘Look,’ you say insistently, ‘if you let me call her… she’ll tell you herself. She’s seriously not interested in me. And I’ve got you.’ Emma looks away, but you press the point. ‘I’m not a fucking idiot, Em. If there’s even a chance I get to date you, I’m going nowhere. I don’t…’

You hesitate, then let your breath out in a soft whoosh. ‘I do not give the furry crack of a rat’s behind about anyone else.’

Emma actually does let out a laugh at that – a strangled, half-sob, but you’re counting it as a victory nonetheless. ‘I… I really want to believe you,’ she confesses, looking stricken. ‘I just… can you understand how this feels? Imagine if I’d been seen out with your ex. Or the guy your ex cheated on you with! It’d… it’d hurt, wouldn’t it?’