I am about to have a first date with a man who is fun and flirty on the outside but has sad bits on the inside.

Who can make me laugh, and who can shock me into silence.

Who gives me confidence, but dares me to stray outside my comfort zone.

A man who is scared to love, but willing to give it a try.

He notices me watching, and smiles. Slides off his stool and stands up.

‘You found it okay?’ He grins and leans forward to kiss my cheek nervously as though he’s not quite sure how to play this.

‘Funnily enough I remembered!’ I can’t help it, I glance around, just to check Gabe isn’t hiding away in a corner, out to trap another girl. ‘It’s not changed, has it?’ I can’t believe such a short time has passed since I first crept into this bar, wondering what Gabe would be like, nervous about a date with somebody who wasn’t Robbie. It seems like a lifetime ago in some ways though. ‘I got an Uber this time though, I didn’t risk walking in these heels!’

‘I ordered prosecco, is that okay?’

‘Noah.’ I need to break the ice, this is all too formal. Not us. ‘Sorry about—’

We both speak at the same time. Both stop.

‘That ki—’

It happens again. He leans forward, rests his finger lightly against my lips.

‘Normally I’d say ladies first,’ I raise an eyebrow, ‘but I need to get this off my chest. I’m sorry about that kiss, at your mum’s party.’

‘It was fine, nice, I liked it.’ I was going to say the same. Well, roughly.

‘You liked it? Damning me with faint praise. It was sensational!’

‘Okay, it was sensational.’ I climb up on the stool, feeling more comfortable. ‘Though not as good as the one on the bench, fuelled by Southern chicken wraps!’

‘True.’ His voice is gentle. ‘But I’m sorry I launched at you like that, I’d just been waiting so long, and you looked as desperate as me, and I guess I misread …’

‘Desperate? Moi? What are you suggesting?’ His perplexed look makes me laugh. I take a sip of my drink, make him wait. ‘Misread my arse. Noah, I was, as Bea would say rather inelegantly, totally gagging for it. But, with Dad, and you, and Laurie and … well, sorry I had a meltdown.’

‘I don’t blame you. I got it wrong, I totally lost control.’ He frowns. ‘It caught me out. I don’t do that!’

‘Kiss?’

‘Lose control. Ever. It was flaming scary if you must know, that’s why I bolted the moment you gave me an excuse. I needed to work.’

‘Work?’

‘It helps me think, you know, designing stuff, tweaking, refining. It kind of releases the other part of my brain, or something.’ He pulls a bit of an ‘eek, what am I talking about’ face. ‘I sat in the office and made something. What did you do?’

I hope he’s not expecting some kind of romantic equivalent. ‘I talked to Mum about living a dirty life, and taking control, and then I shook my booty. Well, we all did, we cleared the dancefloor!’