DAN CAN’T SLEEP AFTER the kiss. He lies awake and replays it, his heart thudding along in time. Atticus’s lips on his own. No space between them, passing air back and forth. Tonsil tennis, Luke used to call it when they were kids. Seven minutes in Heaven. Dan touches his lips in wonder and smiles. Was it seven minutes? For once he had forgotten to count.

Maybe next time. He hopes there’ll be a next time. With more kissing and more than kissing. He can feel molecules of Atticus in his body osmosing. He used to be only in Dan’s head, but now he can feel Atticus in his fingers and toes. He can feel Atticus in his pounding heart.

As always, Dan’s thoughts dip and dive like a rollercoaster, from dizzying euphoria to dread. Maybe Atticus thought he was a substandard kisser and won’t want to see him again. He’s probably used to rich boys who can tie cherry stalks into knots with their tongues. Dan is tongue-tied, but in all the wrong ways. Once again, he curses his lack of experience. Why hadn’t he ever slipped off to a nightclub where he could peer and peruse, and practise on a stranger in the dark? He has nothing except the noise Atticus made to reassure him he was doing it right.

Fitz stretches and arches his back, then gets up to start his morning dog yoga (doga). He doesn’t stay in his downward pose as long as normal, because Dan and Fitz are perfectly osmosed. Because of this Fitz knows Dan is feeling uneven, so he pads over and licks his hand solemnly. One, two, three, four, his tail goes against Dan’s shin. One, two, three, four. Fitz is his metronome, his balance, his best pal.

‘Hello, Fitzy,’ Dan says, after a couple of rounds of counting along. ‘Let’s get this day on the road.’ He’s distracted, though, and Fitz has to keep nudging him in the right direction. Towards the back door and the bin where his dried food lives. The treats drawer, in case Dan is so distracted he might not realize it isn’t treat time.

Dan has a cold shower, and gulps at the cold coffee he forgot about because he was too busy staring at his phone. No message from Atticus. Instead there’s a message from his mum on the answerphone telling him that Dave did indeed propose to Helen in Tenerife, which means there’ll be a family wedding to go to. Great. Dan dresses in black and tosses Fitz ham as he makes his sandwich. He listens to the news and tries to care about the 160 people who died in an earthquake.

By the time he gets to his office and sprays his morning lavender, he’s in a bad mood. In what his nan would call ‘a funk’.