I could be heading straight for a lot of heartache, but somehow, as I look at his absorbed face, the tangle of his hair, and his beautiful face, I can’t bring myself to step back.

I watch him for a few precious seconds more and then, smiling, I wander along to make my choice of travel guide and then over to my favourite set of shelves that contain the maps.

Half an hour later, I’m happily ensconced in one of the very comfortable leather chairs when I smell oranges and sandalwood. When I look up, he’s leaning against the shelf watching me with a smile tugging on his lips.

“Did you get something?” I ask, grinning up at him.

He holds up a guide to Rome. “I’ve always wanted to go there,” he says. I start to laugh and he stares at me. “What on earth is so funny?” he asks, looking slightly upset.

I fumble with my carrier bag and then pull out the book I bought. A travel guide of Rome. “Snap,” I say, and he looks astonished.

“Really? You’ve never been?”

I shake my head. “It’s the sort of place you want to go with a partner. Someone who you can really share things with. Not with a group of lads more interested in finding a bar.”

He stares at me for a long beat, and I wonder whether he too is hoping that we’ll go there together because I can imagine Zeb and myself in Rome, wandering the streets, holding hands and eating in little street cafes.

He straightens up and predictably changes the subject. “I was standing here for a few minutes. You were very absorbed,” he says and pauses. “In the ordnance survey map.” He shakes his head. “Jesse, you’re a never-ending source of surprises to me.”

I grin at him. “Is it the map? Did you expect me to be dancing around a glitter ball in my go-go shorts?”

He snorts. “Not in the place where Florence bought her maps,” he says in an outraged tone which is spoilt by the laughter in his voice. He edges closer. “Why are you reading that?” he asks, lively interest in his eyes.

I stand up and move next to him, unfolding the map. “I love these things,” I say, feeling almost embarrassed. I’ve never shown this geeky side of myself to anyone before.

“Why?” he asks, his eyes intent on my face, which I’m sure is slightly flushed.

“It’s like finding treasure,” I say slowly. “Most people only look at a road atlas, if they look at all, because now the first instinct is to check your phone.” I shrug. “A road atlas is fine, but it doesn’t tell you anything interesting.”

“What do you mean?” he asks, genuine interest in his voice.