‘Right!’ he says eventually. He turns suddenly and leaves, a Zorro cape short of a swish. Uncertain what just happened, I let my head fall to my hands, cracking my face on my glasses. I pull them off and fling them on the desk, wishing I still had spare contacts in my bag.

‘Oh,’ he says, sticking his head back around the door. ‘I keep meaning to ask…’ He looks over his shoulder then steps back over the threshold. I’m forced to put the glasses back on – and vow to go back to those lenses. ‘What time are you off tonight?’ He drops his voice a little, but not quite enough, considering what he’s about to say. ‘I wondered if you might like to come out for a curry?’

His words hang in the air between us, suspended by his hopeful eyes and my deep-seated panic. He’s holding my gaze properly for the first time, pretty much, since we met. I pull out my fringe from behind my frames, suddenly feeling a little bit warm. My lack of immediate response seems to fluster his usual confidence. ‘You’d have to tell me the best place, I’m still finding my way around.’ There’s a chink in his bravado.

Shit! Does he… Is this… Oh God, is he asking me out?

‘Ah, sorry. I can’t…’ I scour my dazed brain for a reason. A legitimate reason for not joining him for a curry. ‘I’ve got a few jobs to do around the house, actually. Popping to the big B&Q on the way home, have you been? Queens Road. It’s massive!’ I mime the size with my hands then wish I hadn’t. ‘Nurse by day, not-particularly-handy handyman by night…’ I say, inflecting up at the end of the sentence, which makes me die a little bit inside. I reach for my neck, which for some reason burns to the touch. I pull up my collar, hoping it hides the hives I feel forming in giant telltale splodges across my chest. Do I normally do this when asked out on a date? In my late teens I threw myself into university, letting off steam at Sheffield Uni’s infamous Pyjama Jumps down town. Dates were few and far between. Thankfully. Mostly it was nights out on raspberry alcopops and the odd fumble in our Student Union. When I started work, I was focused on that, until Daniel came along and charmed me one night at the Leadmill, watching some live band. In fact, I don’t even think he asked me out on an official date. We just sort of… got together. And we stayed together for five years. So I’ve no idea how to react to being asked out on a date.

‘Thanks, though. For asking,’ I say, gawkily.

‘Right,’ he says. ‘Course, sure. No problem.’

Oh God. Have I just made a massive assumption? He’s new to the area. He has no friends. What if it was just for curry… Oh, that’s embarrassing. ‘Maybe another time?’ I half offer, wondering how long it will take to move on from this most awkward of awkward moments.