“Well, it’s better than asking outright where your head’s at, know what I mean?”

“I guess…”

“Or maybe he asked you as a way to determine how successful his meetings are.”

“Oh.”

“But I think it’s Option A, Jordan. Look at the bigger picture. He’s been saving you a seat, and he asked you out for coffee. I think he’s interested. I think he likes you.”

My heart pounded and I began to sweat. “Oh God.”

“Breathe, Jordan. It’s a good thing.”

I exhaled slowly then inhaled, rinse and repeat. Jesus. “Until I fuck it up.”

“How will you fuck this up?”

“You’ve met me. I open my mouth and all there is is explosive verbal diarrhoea. No one is safe.”

She snorted. “Jordan, he’s not like the other guys. He’s not going to dump you because you don’t want to get into bed with him. Remember where you met him. At a meeting for asexual and aromantic people.”

There was more heart pounding, more sweating, and now my forehead felt cold and somehow hot at the same time. Or was that my palms? I couldn’t tell.

“Jordan, you’ll be fine. Don’t overthink it and just be yourself. Be honest with him. And remember, if dating isn’t on the cards, he’d be a kick-arse guy to call a friend, yeah? He likes books, he’s funny, and he’s a decent human being, which we all know is a fucking rarity these days. For all we know, he might need a friend. So how about meeting him for coffee tomorrow with the premise of friends-only? Then there’s no pressure. Let him get to know you. You can get to know him too. Maybe ask him his surname, and start from there.”

I felt better already. “You know exactly how to talk me down.”

“Because I know you.”

“I’m sorry I drove you crazy today at work.”

“That’s okay. You can repay me by coming into the city with me on Sunday. I need to buy my mother a birthday present.”

“Ugh. Jeez. I said I was sorry already. No need to be mean.”

She laughed. “See? And you understand me.”

It was true. Merry’s mother was one impossible woman. “I will take my punishment for being an arse to you today. How old is Satan turning anyway?”

“666.”

“Sounds about right,” I said, feeling so much better. “I’ll be at your place at about ten on Sunday morning, yeah?”

“Perfect. And you’ll bring coffee?”

“Of course.”

“You’re a lad. Though I fully expect a phone call tomorrow at about twelve as you spiral into freak-out mode.”