I invited eight of my schoolfriends to the housewarming party. Two said they would try to make it after something else, which means they won’t be coming. The other six are working, or can’t get to Melbourne, or have other plans. The trouble with my school friendships now is that even though we all still talk and text, everyone is so eager to meet new people and forge new post-high-school lives, it’s easy to slip away from each other. And when you’re holding a party, and you need to invite people to said party and be sure they actually show up in person, it’s like a friendship exam. I don’t want to fail the exam. I can’t fail the exam. When Sophie, Ruby and Justin all said yes to the invitation straightaway, I almost cried.

On the tram on the way home, I am gazing out the window when I see Jesse get on. We go to different universities but they’re close to each other, his in the city centre, mine a few minutes further out, but we are on the same tram line home. I glance away, hoping he doesn’t see me. He’s halfway down the tram, and there are five people standing in between us. I sneak a look at him. He has headphones in and a backpack on, and for a brief moment, my heart softens a little. There’s something about him standing there alone, one hand gripping the pole, in a crowd of people, that makes me feel like maybe we’re the same, both floundering a little in a new city, trying to meet people and learn the public-transport system and not get lost or overwhelmed or homesick.

He looks up and we make eye contact. Damn it.

He awkwardly raises a hand, and I give a small nod back. No smile. We are not at smiling stage. The people standing between us get off, and now it’s very hard to ignore him. Will he move closer to me, or should I move closer to him? What is the protocol here? I take one small sideways step towards him, and then pretend it was nothing more than adjusting my balance. The tram stops again, and several more people get off, leaving a double seat empty between us. A glaring empty seat right there, beckoning, an invitation for us both to sit down. I don’t want to share the seat with him, it’s too much like sharing our bus seat in high school. But if I sit down first, he’ll be the one left with the dilemma of what to do. He seems to be thinking the same thing, as we both make a move for the seat at the same time, bumping into each other.

‘Sorry,’ we say at the same time. He smiles. I don’t.