Yassim looks at him again, the arrogance almost gone from his eyes now. In its place is just a straightforward warmth. ‘I didn’t think I’d feel like this,’ he says. ‘And I don’t want it to end before it even starts. Do you understand?’

No! Jacob wants to say. I don’t understand anything. You have me here, I’ll do whatever you want. Just don’t stop now!

But instead he nods, unwilling to reveal how horny and confused and desperate he really is. A slight headache has snuck up on him now as his drunkenness and excitement slowly recede.

‘But you could at least sit down again,’ he says quietly. ‘Can’t we talk? I never told you if I’m really the person you described.’

Yassim smiles. ‘Habibi,’ he says. ‘Does it matter who you really are? I want you as you are, right here, right now, this morning. But I don’t have time. I’m already late.’

He glances over at the gate that leads to the street, then throws what looks like a camera bag over his shoulder. Did he have that with him earlier in the night? Jacob doesn’t even remember; he only remembers lips and skin and eyes.

‘Do you have to go now?’ he says. Disappointment clawing inside him.

Yassim just shrugs his shoulders and fishes his phone out of the pocket of his worn jeans. ‘How do I reach you?’ he says. ‘Before we forget.’

Jacob rattles off his Facebook and Instagram, but Yassim just shakes his head. ‘Just a phone number,’ he says. ‘That’s enough.’

Jacob gives him his Swedish number; he doesn’t have a Lebanese SIM card yet.

‘You really are new here,’ Yassim says, taking a step towards him and caressing his cheek. ‘I like it.’

Jacob laughs but feels a stitch of annoyance. He may be new here, but it still hurts that Yassim views him that way, like a novice, naive and fresh.

‘And how can I get a hold of you?’ Jacob says.

Yassim doesn’t answer; he just sits down again, puts his hands on the back of Jacob’s neck, pulls him close and pushes his mouth against his, pushes his tongue into Jacob’s mouth. This kiss is different, not tender and tentative like earlier in the night, but hard and knowing, full of intention and a kind of restrained violence that leaves Jacob breathless. If he ever thought he had any kind of initiative here, that thought vanishes now. The excitement in that insight drives him almost crazy, and he pushes himself against Yassim. But Yassim ends the kiss.

‘You can’t just leave me,’ Jacob whispers. ‘Not after this.’

Yassim stands up again with a slight smile on his lips. ‘I’m sorry,’ he says. ‘But I can’t stay. Believe me, there’s nothing else I’d rather do. But I’m going on a trip, and I’m already late.’