She giggled. Actually giggled. I rolled my eyes and he caught them, his face loathsome with glee.

‘You should,’ he said across the kitchen, giving her his most awful Dex smile.

‘I’ve got a history tute at nine tomorrow,’ she said. I stifled a laugh.

‘That’s okay, Blondie,’ he drawled. ‘I’ll make sure you don’t stay out too late.’

My stomach lurched as she giggled again. ‘Yeah, all right,’ she said, as her plate came up. And then she was gone, and Dex was looking at me, his eyes twinkling in victory.

‘Wow,’ I said, tasting something bitter in the back of my throat. ‘I swear you used that same line on me once.’

‘Are you staying for drinks tonight?’ he asked.

‘I don’t know. Will you make sure I don’t stay out too late?’ I imitated his drawl.

‘If you like.’ His voice was slimy and slick. ‘I can multitask.’

‘You’re revolting,’ I said, shaking my head. ‘And I’m tired.’

‘Big night last night?’

I frowned, not sure if I should be offended that everyone’s assumption was that my current state was self-inflicted. ‘Just … not sleeping well.’ I picked up a bottle and threw it into the bin with more force than it deserved, flinched at the sound of it breaking, the sudden waft of stale beer making me nauseous. Everything was making me nauseous.

‘You okay?’ His voice changed.

‘Yeah,’ I said reflexively. When I looked up his face was different too, made me uncomfortable. I looked away. ‘I’m fine.’

‘You sure? Go have a cigarette. Nic won’t care.’

I glanced back at him, standing in front of me with his hands on his hips. For a second, he reminded me of someone else, then it faded.

‘I’m fine,’ I said, picking up my empty crate and turning away. ‘Don’t let Emma miss her history tute tomorrow.’

‘’Kay, Nona.’ He shrugged. ‘Whatever.’

I went back up to the floor, ignoring the way Nic looked at me, and started making a stock list.

‘Hey, can I ask you something?’

It took a second to realise the question was meant for me, and when I looked up Emma was standing at the bar, waiting. Definitely diamonds. ‘Yeah, what’s up?’ I asked, in my best customer-facing voice.

‘It’s not …’ She glanced around nervously. ‘It’s not about work.’

I let my eyes defocus until she was a yellow and black blur in front of me. Even as a fuzzy shape she was perfectly proportioned—tall, thin, her chest just a little bigger than strictly necessary. ‘That’s okay.’

‘So …’ My stomach clenched in anticipation. ‘That guy in the kitchen … Dexter?’

‘Dex,’ I corrected her without thinking, straightening my cordials.

‘Yeah.’

‘Yeah?’ I noticed Nic busying himself at the coffee machine, too deliberately.

‘Is he …’

Somehow my face arranged into something neutral. ‘What?’