‘No, you don’t understand. I’m not drinking but –’

‘You want him to think you are?’ He looks shocked, a hand comes to his chest.

‘No, it’s…’ I begin, but when he smiles I realise he’s mocking me. ‘I just don’t want to hurt his ego. You ever been on one of those dates that you know probably isn’t worth the hangover?’ That’s the truth. It’s not worth the hangover, but more importantly I can’t turn up at home stinking of booze.

A knowing smile, he flashes a wink. ‘Say no more. Lime and sodas all night for you. Want me to charge him for the vodka?’

I shrug one shoulder. ‘If that’s cool with you.’

‘I don’t mind either way.’

I carry a glass in each hand back to our table. Daniel’s head is down, staring at his phone, I see only the diamond shape of his back, that neckless look of rugby players.

‘You never told me what you do, Anna?’

‘Me?’ I think for a moment, placing our drinks down and sitting on the bench seat beside him. I had an answer prepared but it’s escaped my mind. I improvise. ‘I’m actually a doctor.’

‘Where?’

‘Sorry?’ I say, feeling a little flustered now.

‘At a hospital? Or a clinic?’

‘Middlemore,’ I lie. ‘I’m a doctor at Middlemore. But enough about work, what do you do for fun?’

‘I’m a country boy. I go fishing and hunting a bit. Other than that, I just train.’

‘Train?’

‘Gym and boxing,’ he says.

I pout my bottom lip and give a nod. ‘You’re a fighter?’

‘Not quite, just do it to keep fit and healthy.’

‘Your muscles are not just for the girls?’

He’s mid-twenties, dark clipped hair and a hairline that perhaps goes a little too close to his heavy brow, which if I were being unkind, I would describe as caveman-esque. But beneath that brow and behind those glasses, he has the most arresting green eyes.

‘No, I’m a good boy. I’m not always out chasing girls.’

Why do we call it butterflies, this feeling? Why not moths? Whatever it is, it’s not a pleasant feeling. Excitement, yes, but with equal parts anxiety. ‘Is that right? They chase you?’

He glances down into his pint, at the tide marks of beer foam.

I reach for his glasses. I feel like I’m an actor on stage playing the role of someone with the chutzpah to take off a man’s glasses just to try them on myself. When I do, the world blurs a little. But not too much.

‘You sure you need these? They’re not so strong.’

‘They make things clearer, like seeing the world in HD.’

‘And they add a hint of sophistication to you, right?’

He just smiles.