Anyway, we settled on a compromise. He insisted on ropes but did say we didn’t have to do it in a forest. We could do it indoors, full health and safety regulations in a controlled environment. I don’t think it was quite what he was aiming for. Not exactly wild and exhilarating, but still scary and pulse-raising. And involving stepping out of my comfort zone and letting go (not that I’m going to physically let go, are you kidding me?).

We’re at a climbing wall. In an old converted church. And I am in Stuart’s capable hands, which is slightly exciting, and not at all scary. But I’m not going to tell Noah that. I know the scary part is yet to come.

‘This isn’t supposed to be a date!’

‘Shit, ahh!’ I am so shocked when Noah pops his head up over the other side of the wall that I nearly forget to hold on. ‘What are you doing up here?’

I have got to the scary bit. I am miles up from ground level, clinging to frail bits of plastic and a far too thin rope. The last thing I need is somebody popping his head over from the other side like a flaming meerkat.

‘Keeping an eye on you. What are you playing at? Making eyes at him?’ He hisses.

‘Who?’

‘The instructor!’

‘I’m not—’

‘Yes, you were! You were,’ he struggles to find the right word, ‘simpering!’

That is so not the right word. I nearly laugh, except laughing would involve relaxing muscles, and at the moment I have everything tensed against disaster. ‘I do not simper!’

‘You were flirting!’

‘That’s what you do all the time,’ I fling back at him, ‘now get down, go away.’ I’d wave him away, but I’m too busy clinging on.

‘Everything okay up there, Rosie?’ Stuart’s voice rings out loud and clear.

‘Fine, fine.’ I daren’t turn round, or look down, or basically move in any direction. I can hiss though. ‘Go away, Noah!’

‘Promise me you’ll stop flirting.’

‘I’m not flirting, he just likes me! And isn’t that the point of all this?’

‘No! It’s not a flirting workshop, today is about you, and taking risks!’

‘I am taking a frigging risk, and anyway aren’t sex and danger linked?’

He glares at me. In fact, he’s more glower-y today than I’ve ever seen him.

I tilt my head on one side – well as much as I can with a helmet and load of gear on while I’m hanging on for dear life. ‘Anybody ever told you you’re quite sexy when you scowl?’

‘Trust me, you shouldn’t flirt with him.’

‘Trust you? I did trust you and now I’m stuck at the top of a bloody wall! This is worse than being in a bloody relationship!’ I don’t think this comment has helped.

‘Fine.’ He lets go with one hand.

‘Don’t, oh God, don’t. Hold on properly!’

‘Rosie.’ He looks me in the eye, still not holding on. I’m trembling and I don’t know whether it’s because he is staring at me so intently that I’m sure he can see exactly what I’m thinking, or because I’m scared he’ll fall. ‘Do you want to be helped or not?’