Ruby lay on her side, facing me, her hair sticking out in every direction and her lips as pink and tender-looking as mine felt. I didn’t know whether to wake her before I left. What would I say? I’m off now, thanks for the groping and inadvertent cat theft? If I left without saying anything then I’d be a cliché who sneaks out of the room because they’re too studly to cope.

The first option was uncomfortable, but the second one was downright pathetic, so I nudged her awkwardly until her eyes flickered open. I ignored how my heart sped up when she blinked a few times and fixed her brown eyes on me.

“I have to go now,” I said, pointing at the door for no reason at all. She rubbed her eyes and yawned before answering.

“Last night was fun.” A flirtatious note in her voice made me want to get back into her bed and do it all over again.

Full awareness of my morning breath kept me strong.

“It was. Er . . . my name is Saoirse, by the way.”

“I know.”

“How?” I couldn’t remember telling her my name and I really hoped that wasn’t an effect of the vodka because social binge drinking was one thing but blackouts were another matter.

“I asked who the girl nicking the vodka from the freezer was.”

She had asked about me. I tried to arrange my face to look like pretty girls asked about me all the time.

“By the way, it’s my birthday next week. We’re just having dinner here, but you should come.”

Most people would be embarrassed to invite someone they’d only just met to their birthday party. It screamed desperate. And yet Ruby didn’t look desperate or embarrassed. She looked like she was honoring me with an invite and yes or no would both be perfectly acceptable answers.

It took so long for me to say anything, she started to talk again.

“It’s Friday at eight. I can’t promise a wild night, but I can promise food. I think I heard my aunt talking about catering,” she said, rolling her eyes.

It wasn’t that I didn’t want to see her ever again. But if I went to this dinner, would she think we were a thing? Would going to the dinner mean that we were a thing? A thing was a precursor to a relationship. I’d already broken part of my rule by kissing her in the first place. I couldn’t go on a big rule-breaking frenzy and start a summer fling like some kind of maverick, consequences be damned.

“Um, I’m not sure. I’d have to check that my dad didn’t have other plans for us. Is that OK?”

She shrugged. “Sure.”