Oh God. Was he going to tell me it was all a mistake? That we were about to spend the next six days in the most self-conscious, awkward, embarrassed way possible? I wished I could recall my text to Kezza. The only thing worse than explaining that we’d made out would be explaining that afterwards I got rejected because NEWSFLASH! no man wants me! It’s hilarious I ever thought they could! I’m not the woman men ever fancy!

I waited for the blow to come.

‘I just wanted to see your face,’ he continued, ‘when I told you that …’

I wished he’d bloody hurry up and spit it out.

‘You sent your text to me instead of one of your friends. You freaked out at me instead of Kezza.’

I instantly leapt across the bed to pick up my phone and open it to the screen I’d just been writing on. At the top of the thread it didn’t say Kezza. It said Patrick. I’d been thinking about Patrick and so I’d texted Patrick.

‘Gah!’ I squealed, pulling the covers up to my face to hide myself from a level of mortification that might actually kill me. I could hear his laughter through the sheets.

‘No!’ I insisted. ‘Noooooo!’

His laughter came closer and his weight sank into the bottom of the bed.

‘Permission to enter?’ he said, and his face peeked under the sheet from the other side of the bed.

‘I can’t believe I texted you and not Kezza. That’s so humiliating. Forget everything it said, please.’

‘Hey,’ he said. ‘Come on. Now you’ve got me in your bed, so at least some good came of it … Or did you need some more special alone time?’

Why had I told Kezza I’d masturbated? PATRICK NOW KNEW I’D HAD A WANK OVER THE THOUGHT OF US SNOGGING.

‘Are you okay?’ he asked. He’d stopped laughing now, but was still smirking.

‘My ego needs another ten minutes,’ I winced.

‘Did you really think today would be weird?’

I shrugged and looked at him through my fingers. ‘Maybe. I don’t know.’

‘You told me you’d wanted it to happen for ages.’

‘You did too!’ I said, like the whiny teenager I was trying to avoid being, which made us both laugh again.

‘Look,’ he said. ‘First and foremost we’re friends, right? But I’m just going to be very, very honest here: if the kissing happens again, I wouldn’t be sorry about it.’

I finally looked at him properly.

‘That got your attention,’ he joked.

I smiled. ‘Okay. This was still horribly embarrassing and I still need you to leave. But, cool. Deal. We’re friends first.’

‘And …?’ he prompted.

‘And if the kissing happens again, I wouldn’t be sorry about it either.’