‘I imagine we’d have to leave eventually,’ I said, my own arms tightening around him. ‘The staff probably want to go home.’

‘Then I guess I’d have to make my move, because I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t tell you how I’d been thinking about kissing you all night long.’

Evan tilted my face up towards his and, as his features blurred out of focus, my lips parted entirely of their own accord. His thumb grazed my bottom lip, just barely, and my entire body liquefied. The warmth of his breath, the scent of his skin. I curled my fingers into the hair that fell against his collar and took a deep breath in.

‘And then?’

‘And then I’d remember you have a boyfriend and respectfully excuse myself.’ He pulled away from me and everything that was warm turned cold. ‘I’m sorry. My life was a lot less complicated when I was an asshole,’ he said as he stalked away, turning the music off on his phone.

‘Please don’t apologize,’ I said, pressing my fingers against my tingling lips. ‘You’re right, I would not have felt good about myself tomorrow if …’

I didn’t finish the sentence. I couldn’t.

‘I don’t believe in love at first sight,’ Evan said, keeping a safe distance between us. ‘But I believe how I feel. This is something and, whatever it is, I don’t want to ruin it with regret. Whether it’s a beginning or an ending.’

There were only a few feet between us but the distance felt much further. Soon the night would be over and it would be time for me to leave. It wasn’t just me going back to my life. Evan had to go back to his as well. Competitive, kind, funny Evan would go home to his complicated family and his masters degree, to his therapist, and the friends that flew each other out to parties in unsafe helicopters. He would be in New York, I would be in Sheffield, and with that realisation, everything changed.

‘I have something for you,’ he said, taking a seat on the edge of the day bed.

‘What is it?’ I asked, sitting down beside him. Nothing was going to happen between us now.

‘Look in the inside left pocket,’ he instructed. ‘It’s your future.’

I slid my hand inside the tuxedo jacket and found a stiff, glossy piece of card.

It was a tarot card.

‘The Three of Cups,’ I said. ‘What does it mean?’

Evan opened the browser on his phone and searched. ‘Upright, it means celebration, creativity and happy collaborations. Reversed, the Three of Cups can mean independence, going it alone, frustration or infidelity.’

He stumbled over the last word and I looked away.

‘Was it the right way up or the wrong way up?’