I spotted him right away, sitting at the end of the bar, looking up at the TV screen rather than towards the door. Leaning up against the bar was his skateboard. This would be a first. Would we skate off into the sunset together at the end of the night? I felt all wrong in my jeans and loose tank top, my hair pulled into a ponytail. He was way too cool for me. I walked over and when I drew near he looked away from the TV.

He stuck out his hand. ‘Hannah?’

‘Ash.’

‘Have a seat. You look great. I mean, I’ve never seen you before so that’s kind of a weird thing to say, but you do. I’m really glad to meet you.’

He was like that, I realised as soon as I sat down. He said what was in his head, he talked about whatever he was thinking or feeling at the time. He grew up on a commune in Marin County, so I guess it isn’t surprising. He’s the kind of person who’ll tell you his life story straight away, and he did, smiling at me, his knee bumping against mine every so often as we sat on adjoining bar stools.

His parents were hippies and he was the last of their six children, born on what he called an ‘intentional community’ where they grew soybeans from which they made organic soymilk, tofu and tempeh.

‘Go on, laugh,’ he said. ‘Everyone does.’

I had been holding back a snort of laughter but I let go.

‘Do you even like tofu?’ I asked.

‘I eat it sometimes, like when I go home to see them, but I’m not a vegetarian anymore.’

We talked about music we liked, about nursing school, about the difference between the east and west coasts. He was too easy to talk to; I had to remind myself that I didn’t really know him.

‘So you ride that everywhere?’ I asked, nodding at his board.

He grinned. ‘My friends said it’s the wrong way to get to a date, but I had to prove them wrong.’

‘Or right, maybe.’

‘Ouch.’

‘So what’s the downhill thing? Explain.’

‘I’ll show you.’

He pulled up a clip on his phone. There were whole YouTube channels, it turned out, devoted to this. People on longboards slaloming down the steepest hills they could find, winding across the black asphalt, knees bent, arms behind them, heads forward as they gathered speed. They wore gloves and used them to gently touch off the road, the leather skimming the hard tar. The speeds they reached, with nothing between themselves and the street but a thin board and four wobbling wheels. Madness. It made my heart sit high in my chest to watch.

‘Have you hurt yourself?’

He showed me some of his scars.