“We’re perfect together as friends. Friends,” I emphasise. “And that is all that Charlie sees us as.” He opens his mouth to object, and I wag my finger at him. “He sees me as his best friend, and that is it. I would certainly be the first person to know if Charlie’s feelings had changed, and they haven’t. Jesus, if I made a move, I’d fuck everything up between us anyway because I’m not good at relationships.”

“How do you know?”

The bald question stops me in my tracks. “Well, look at me. I don’t exactly scream consistency.”

“I am looking, Misha,” he say indignantly. “I just see a man who has hook-ups and has never actually tried to have a relationship.”

“Well. I’ve already got three of those that don’t exactly run smoothly,” I say sourly.

“And you’re exceptionally good at them,” he says calmly. “You’re candid, loving, funny, and always there for them. Just because they’re responsibilities you didn’t ask for, it doesn’t mean you aren’t good with them.” He stands up and paces over to the window, leaning against it and looking at me. “Listen, you said at the age of eighteen that you didn’t ever want a relationship and you stuck to that so hard it got enshrined in your mind as something that was an absolute truth. It doesn’t mean it’s right. It just means that you’ve never met anyone who you’ve wanted to try anything else with.”

I shift in my chair. “I can’t have a relationship with Charlie.”

“You already do.”

“Yes, but it’s as friends.”

“It’s been more than friends for a long while, Misha. The two of you have just never realised it. You’re the reason his relationships never work.”

“That’s a shitty thing to say,” I say, stung.

He shrugs. “It’s the truth. He gets what he needs from you. He doesn’t look to other people, and you’re the same.”

“Then maybe I should back away and let him have a relationship,” I say, irritated by how hard it is to say that. He looks at me, and his smugness annoys me like he’s rubbing a stinging nettle on my chest. I rub that spot. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because I don’t think you can do that. You’re already too far down the path to draw back.”

“Okay, Little Red Riding Hood. You’re wrong, and I’m going to prove it.” I reach for my phone.

He shifts, some of his confidence dying away. “Wait. What are you doing?”

“I’m looking for Doug’s number.”

“Doug Henshaw?”

“Yep. Handsome teacher Doug with his own house, a good job, and all his own teeth.”

“And you’re totally ringing him for his dentist’s number, aren’t you, Misha?”