‘Only practically?’ I laugh to cover up the fact that I need to shuffle away.

‘Seriously.’ He puts his hand over mine, gazes into my eyes. ‘I’m the lucky one here, thanks for giving it a go.’

‘That’s a line as well, isn’t it?’ I can hear the strained edge to my voice. The words are forced, but if I can joke, say normal things then I can keep this how it’s supposed to be.

Instead of letting it turn into something so tempting I want more.

‘Partly.’ He grins and sits back, and I know I should be heaving a sigh of relief, but instead feel disappointment. ‘Ready to hit the road then?’

‘Sure, fine! Lovely evening.’ Shut up, Rosie.

He holds the door open for me and I take a step out into the perfect night. Warm air, a beautiful clear sky.

As we set off down the road, his hand brushes mine. There’s a tingle, a strange need inside of me to catch hold of his fingers. Is this how it’s supposed to happen? Falling for somebody, wanting to date? Is this what I really want to happen – letting fate step in and lead me to a man who makes me tingle, rather than trying to pick the perfect guy?

Our forearms briefly touch, the hairs on mine prickle, we’re walking in step and I realise I’m holding my breath. That the rest of the world no longer matters. If he kissed me now, I wouldn’t care who saw. I wouldn’t care that it’s wrong. It’s as though there’s just the two of us. Nothing else matters.

He slows the pace. ‘Rosie?’

I swallow. Is this it? Is this the moment when I throw out my rule book and let him kiss me, because I want him to so much and I’m prepared to risk being with a man who might be just like Dad? My heart is hammering, I can hear the thud in my ears.

‘Yes.’ I clear my throat, try to ignore the shivery anticipation that is threatening to break out of me.

‘That Steve guy, you’re going through with it?’ And just like that he’s burst the bubble.

It’s not the two of us. It’s a man and a girl striding along a dirty pavement.

‘If you mean, am I seeing him? Then yeah, tomorrow.’ I can hear the defensive edge to my voice.

I’d got carried away. I’d forgotten that he’s doing this because of some other guy, not for me.

He’s turned the heat up because he couldn’t help himself. Because he didn’t like the fact I’d been chatted up. Even though that’s what we are here for.

Dad is like that. He can’t help himself. He’ll be off on tour, flirting and romancing his way through concerts, through life, but he only wants Mum to want him. To have him.

As the thought runs through my mind for the first time, I realise it is true. The slightest mention of other men in Mum’s messages to him and he’d be home.