John placed an exceptionally large margarita in front of me and took a seat on the opposite side of the table. Sitting face to face as he quietly savoured his drink, I couldn’t help but be impressed by how shiny his longish black hair was, lit by the chandeliers overhead. There was no denying it was good hair, the way it curled against the nape of his neck and messily pushed back away from his face. I wondered what it would look like if he let it grow longer. Would it be as curly as mine? His eyes were deep brown and his complexion had a warm olive tone, although he looked as though he could stand to see the sun a little bit more often. Objectively a fox, I decided, kicking my shoes off underneath the table. I was out of practice in heels, definitely needed to build up my tolerance. Unlike my tolerance to tequila, which seemed to be doing just fine.

‘So, you’ve been back how long now?’ he asked, in between sips.

‘Two weeks.’

‘And how are you enjoying being home?’

‘It’s fine.’

‘Work’s going well?’

‘Not really.’

He laughed unexpectedly as he licked the salt from the rim of his glass.

‘I love how talkative you are,’ he said. ‘This really is a thrilling conversation.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I said with a big sigh. ‘This time it’s not actually you.’

‘Didn’t think it was.’ John raised his glass across the table. ‘Cheers.’

‘I wanted tonight to be perfect,’ I explained, lifting my glass in his direction. ‘Sumi’s birthday always used the biggest party of the year and I didn’t want to let her down. Tonight was fine but it wasn’t that extra, was it? No wacky adventures, no shenanigans to speak of. Just a perfectly ordinary Saturday night.’

‘With roller skating,’ John added.

‘Once on Sumi’s birthday, she ended up on stage during a touring production of Cats in Reading,’ I replied.

He looked equally impressed and afraid. ‘My worst nightmare. How did you organize that?’

‘Oh, we didn’t organize it,’ I said. ‘It’s surprisingly easy to get backstage in a lot of regional theatres. And Sumi does a very good Rum Tum Tugger.’

‘I bet she does,’ he laughed. ‘But you’re worrying about nothing. She seemed pleased with the evening as far as I could tell, and now she’s drunk, happy and home safe. As someone who has worked in bars for most of their life, trust me when I tell you, things could have gone a lot worse.’

‘But it used to be different,’ I said, staring out the window at the dusky sky. I had always loved a British summer and the late light nights. ‘When we all lived together, we used to go out every weekend and we didn’t come home until the sun was up, you know?’