‘I want this. I want to try.’

He looked at me, then grinned. ‘Are you sure?’

I nodded. ‘Yeah. Yes.’ So sure.

He kissed me, more than kissed me, over and over, and the coffee went cold like I knew it would, but neither of us noticed for the longest time.

‘Can I have another wineglass? This one’s dirty.’

We’d kissed at his front door for what seemed like hours, like seconds, said goodbye over and over until we were both late and I had to run up the hill to work. It was hours ago but I could still feel him, his fingers on my waist, in the back of my hair, everywhere.

‘Cait! Glass?’

I felt soft, warmer than I’d felt in years, the noise I’d grown so used to muffled, diffused, far away. There were no Thoughts, nobody died, nothing went wrong. Everything I looked at sparkled and when I thought about him I couldn’t stop smiling.

Bali, huh? he’d said at one point. Whispered it into my ear and made it sound like poetry. My knees had weakened. Did you mean it?

I hadn’t answered, but I’d kissed him so hard my mouth hurt, and when he said yes I’d had to grab on to him to keep from falling over.

‘Caitlin?’

My face hurt from smiling.

‘Jesus, Caitlin.’

I jumped at the sound of my name, turned to see Nic staring at me. He looked annoyed, tired. ‘What?’

‘Finally. Christ. Can I have another wineglass before table three dies of thirst?’

‘Huh?’ I blinked again, trying to remember where I was, what time it was.

Nic sighed, and I looked at the clock. Nine thirty. Tom finished at ten. He’d messaged me earlier, and then again, cute little messages that maybe didn’t mean anything but felt like they meant everything, made me grin like a loon. I passed Nic a wineglass.

‘You’re in a mood tonight,’ I said.

He laughed. ‘You’re one to talk.’

‘Can I have a cigarette?’

He picked up the glass and studied it. ‘Stock list first. Then cigarette.’

‘But—’

‘No.’ Short, sharp, exhausted.

I sighed. ‘Sorry.’

I made a stock list, somehow, possibly the worst stock list I’d ever made. I couldn’t count and I kept forgetting how much of what we were supposed to have. When Nic was satisfied it was finished he glared at me. ‘Seven minutes. A second more and you’re fired. Bring some of this stuff back up with you, okay?’

I nodded then nearly sprinted to the staffroom. I was in trouble, and I barely cared.

I slipped my phone in my pocket and went out the back, rolling a cigarette and lighting it, inhaling hard. I’d hardly smoked all day and it made my head spin, in a nice way.

‘Nice hickey.’