Drive to Emma’s hotel!

This, you think nervously, bouncing up and down on your heels, is probably the stupidest idea you’ve ever had.

Your palms are sweaty. They’re actually sweating – you can feel them sliding around on the pizza box.

In front of you, the door to Emma’s hotel room is a blank, white barrier. It might as well be fifty feet high.

This is stupid. This is stupid. This isn’t going to work.

You’re about to turn around and walk away when Emma Stone’s voice echoes in your head.

Confidence, man. There’s nothing sexier. Nothing.

She misses you. She wants to see you. You think you’re the only one checking your phone every five minutes?

Go. Tell her how much you miss her. You’ve got nothing to lose, and you’ll always regret it if you don’t.

It’s not a conscious decision, not something you really think about, but suddenly your hand comes up, and you’re knocking on the door.

The muffled conversation inside stops abruptly, and you lick your lips nervously.

Then the door swings open, and Sarah looks down at you in surprise.

‘James? I’m sorry – we weren’t expecting you, were we?’ The sharp lines at the edges of her mouth are downturned, and she doesn’t look particularly happy to see you.

‘No,’ you say rapidly, ‘but please don’t tell me to go away just yet. I brought Emma something. And I wanted to apologise. And if you tell her I’m here, I’ll… I’ll go if she doesn’t want to see me.’

Sarah studies you for a moment, eyes unreadable.

Then she sighs, and rolls her eyes softly, and her face seems to lighten a little.

‘You kids. All right. I’ll tell her you’re here.’ Her eyes flick down to the pizza. ‘I will also mention the, ah, the peace offering. Should earn you at least one bonus point.’