I stare unseeingly ahead, considering her words. I remember how Misha curled around me last night, his head on my shoulder, his scent all over me. I think of the intense warmth and comfort I’d felt. The sex had been the best ever, accompanied by a deep sense of rightness, as if everything in my life had suddenly clicked into place.

“I think I want more,” I finally say.

“So why the hesitation if it was so good?”

“Because this is Misha. Carefree man-whore Misha who avoids commitment like it’s the Black Death. The person who’s always been just my best friend. It’s like he’s been wearing a mask for years, and he took it off last night, and it’s bloody freaking me out.”

“But you still want more?” She smiles when I nod. “Good. I’m glad. You two go together like sausages and gravy.”

I grimace. “I can think of more romantic pairings.”

“Yes, but do they fuck off and leave their bed partners alone without a word?” she says sweetly. I glare at her, and she claps. “When it’s right, it’s right.”

“You should write the messages in greeting cards.”

“It would certainly pay more than library work. I’ve got one. How about ‘Oh, Misha, you make sweet music in my soul, but beware because I’ll cut up your heart and keep it in a bowl.’”

“A bit too graphic for Hallmark, and why would I put a bodily organ in a bowl? It’s not sanitary at all,” I sniff.

She sits back and regards me steadily. “You need to tell him all this. Tell him that you freaked out. He’s in the same position as you. I bet he did his own freaking out.”

“Really?” Misha always seems so cool with everything. I gesture to my phone, suddenly and overwhelmingly desperate to hear his voice. “Give me my phone.”

“Why?”

“Because I need to talk to him now. What if I’ve hurt him?” I pause. “Oh my God, Bethany, what if it was a mistake for him and he’s avoiding me? Now, when I’ve realised that I want more? He’s probably out at a club right now fucking someone to get the taste of me out of his mouth.”

“I think that might be information overload.” I glare at her, and she smiles. “It’s also only four in the afternoon, Charlie. He’s not that debauched despite giving it a good try over the years. He’s still at work where apparently he has pissed everyone off by being a completely surly dickhead for the entire day.”

“How do you know?” I stare at her. “Rupert?” She nods. “What else did he say?” I lean forwards so quickly I nearly fall out of my chair.

“Not much more than that. Although apparently Misha has shouted more today than someone trying to get off the Titanic.”