The late afternoon sun is fading to a delicate twilight as Misha and I round the corner and spot our group waiting by the fountain as arranged. They’re dressed like us in jeans, coats, and sky-blue T-shirts emblazoned with the name of the epilepsy charity that we’re supporting tonight.

“Alright?” I call out, and they turn to grin at me. Not all of them are smiling, actually. As we get closer, I see Felix is shooting glares at his ex-boyfriend who is standing next to Zeb.

“Oh my God,” I breathe. “Did you ask Max to the charity walk?”

Misha shrugs a bit too casually. “I told Zeb it would be alright. I didn’t realise Felix was coming too.”

I look at him sceptically. “Really?” I ask.

He huffs indignantly. “How is it that you don’t believe me, Charlie? That’s hurtful.” I stare some more, and he breaks. “Okay, Zeb and I arranged it to see if we can get them to talk.” He looks at me. “Did I even sound remotely truthful about Felix?”

I see-saw my hands. “Not to someone who knows you.” I pause. “You know, people like your cousin, Felix.”

“Great,” he groans. “He’s going to kill me and knowing him, it will be slow and exceedingly painful.”

“Felix is lovely. He wouldn’t do that.”

He looks at me in consternation. “Have you actually met him?”

I bite my lip. “Okay, he would do that.” I cheer up. “At least he isn’t going to be cross with me. I’m going to try to move away from you so he doesn’t think I was involved in the plot. I hope that’s okay.”

A smile flits across his full lips. “Thank you so much, Charlie. I can’t begin to tell you how much I appreciate your support.”

“We are a full-service organisation,” I intone.

“I know,” he says, his eyes darkening.

We’re both thinking back to when I’d blown him earlier, kneeling in the hallway and taking him into my mouth as soon as he came in from work.

I shake my head reprovingly, and he smiles, the white of his teeth gleaming.

We reach the group, and Jesse grins at us. “Alright, people? What’s in the bag, Charlie? Is it alcohol?”

I give him an exasperated look. “No. The last thing we need on a charity walk is to be drunk.”

“Really?” His vivid face is alive with laughter. “I’d think it would be a requirement. Like having an ambulance on standby for when we collapse with exhaustion.”

“It’s a slow walk through London, not a marathon through the Sahara Desert,” Zeb says, shooting a wary glance at Felix and Max who are hissing something at each other.

Jesse follows his gaze and sighs. “Zeb. When you decide to meddle in other people’s affairs, you really should be fully prepared for everything that comes your way.”