Take Emma home...

The drive home is conducted in complete silence.

Emma doesn’t seem to want to look at you. At first, you tried reaching for her hand, but when she instinctively shrank away, you gave up.

So this is how it ends, you find yourself thinking, caught halfway between anger and misery. Not with a bang, but with a whimper…

Emma finally turns to you as the car draws up outside her hotel. ‘I’m really, really sorry,’ she manages, obviously on the verge of tears.

You just stare at her. ‘It is what it is. I’m sorry, too.’

Emma shakes her head violently. ‘No, it’s not like that –’

‘Then what is it like?’ you interrupt, suddenly tired of this game. ‘Come on, Emma, you’ve barely looked at me since you vanished up the stairs for half an hour. At least tell me what he said to you. It must have been good.’ You can barely keep the sneer out of your voice – but fuck it, this hurts.

Emma’s head flies up, and there’s color in her cheeks. ‘It’s not like that!’ she repeats, angrily, this time. ‘I didn’t – I wouldn’t – if you think I don’t have higher standards than that –’

‘So why aren’t you talking to me?’ You throw your hands up. ‘The fuck did I do wrong tonight? Why are you ignoring me?’

‘I…’ Emma’s head droops again, and she looks thoroughly miserable. ‘It’s just… it’s something he said…’

You snort, unable to stop yourself. ‘Right, so it is something he said. Go on. What was it? I’d actually like to know.’

When Emma looks up, the fight seems to have drained out of her. ‘It’s just…’ She trails off. ‘It’s just, he saw me with you and I saw him with – her.’ She almost spits the word, and part of you thinks that now is probably not the best time to tell her about your encounter with Emma Stone. ‘And – it was like he was pleased, you know? Said he had to hand it to me, I’d moved on quickly. Said you weren’t – said you weren’t a bad rebound.’

She says the last part very quickly, without meeting your eyes.