Dan has never had a specific crush on anyone or anything since his geography teacher’s beard. He’s found aspects of certain men attractive, arousing even, but never the whole package. Luke’s former flatmate, Michael, had hairy forearms that made Dan want to stroke them. One of the men on his counselling course had a moustache that looked soft and smelt wonderful. There is a regular on Dan’s bus whose jeans fit so well over his thighs that Dan can’t look at them for too long without feeling giddy.

Overall, Dan found it pretty easy to be celibate, until Atticus walked in. He was the forearms, the stubble, the smell, the height, the exact shade of pale that Dan had never known he’d been looking for or avoiding all his life. In bloody pink suede loafers. Dan can’t stop himself counting – that was bad enough – but now he also can’t stop himself picturing Atticus next to him, at night, opposite him at breakfast.

Luke speeds up for the last five hundred metres and Dan pushes to keep pace with him. They both flat-out sprint towards the windmill, their dogs at their heels, laughing but determined to win. Fitz and Wolfie are panting heavily. They’re a competitive pair. Wolfie has longer legs but is prone to distraction. Fitz wants to grab the finish line and bring it back to Dan in his teeth, then drop it at his feet, like a prize.

Luke pips Dan to the post as Fitz beats Wolfie by a clear paw. Exhausted and elated from the exercise, Luke and Dan bend over, panting and wheezing, while Fitz and Wolfie lick the damp grass.

‘How far did you run before you met me?’ Luke huffs, using the bench to stretch out his legs.

‘The normal,’ Dan replies, taking a drink from his water bottle.

‘Saw your Strava time the other day. A personal best, no less!’ Luke grins, and bows at him.

Dan remembers that he was running away from Atticus at the time. He’s pleased his already red face hides his blush. ‘The wind was behind me.’

‘Always so modest.’

Dan shrugs and says, ‘Hey, are we doing the Brighton marathon this year?’ He and Luke have run it for the last four years, raising money for the Macmillan nurses, who helped their respective fathers. Dan loves the training. All those numbers and segments to study. Luke loves all the extra carbs, and the women cheering from the sides.

‘Dunno, dude. I fancy something different.’ Luke drops to the ground for a set of push-ups. ‘I’m thinking … Ironman. We’re pretty fit and it looks like fun.’

‘It looks horrible,’ Dan says flatly, dropping to join him.

‘Hideous. Run, swim, bike. Fucking disgusting. So, you’re in?’