9

Amelia found herself sitting perfectly still on the sofa with her eyes closed. She had intended to make herself a cup of tea, curl up beneath a blanket and forget the evening had ever happened. That was usually how she dealt with difficult days. A hot drink, a romance novel and an early night could fix almost anything.

Tonight, none of it seemed to work.

The tea sat untouched on the coffee table, slowly cooling in its mug. The book lay open in her lap where she had abandoned it after only a few pages. The television hummed quietly in the background, though she couldn't have said what was on.

Instead, the evening replayed itself.

Daniel smiling as though she owed him her time. The scrape of the chair as he'd sat down without permission. The casual confidence with which he'd answered questions directed at her. The growing knot in her stomach every time she'd tried to end the conversation, only for him to steer it somewhere else. The horrible realisation that nothing he was doing seemed serious enough to justify making a scene, yet everything together had left her feeling trapped.

Then another memory pushed itself to the front of her mind.

"There you are, sweetheart."

She opened her eyes.

It was ridiculous how clearly she could still hear his voice. Calm. Steady. Certain. It hadn't been loud or dramatic. He hadn't demanded attention from the room or marched over like some action hero. He had simply appeared beside her as though he'd always intended to meet her there. She could still remember the warmth of his arm around her shoulders. The feeling of safety that had settled over her before she'd even had time to think.

She closed her eyes again. His face drifted back into focus with startling clarity. Dark hair. Hazel eyes. That quiet smile. She barely knew anything about him. Yet somehow she remembered every detail.

With a frustrated sigh, Amelia picked up her book again. She read one page. Then another. By the third she realised she had absolutely no idea what had happened in the story. She had reached the bottom of the page three times without absorbing a single word. She closed the book.

"Hopeless," she muttered to herself.

The television was no better. She switched channels twice before settling on a travel programme she normally enjoyed. Mountains, beaches and cheerful presenters wandered across the screen while she stared straight through them. Ten minutes later she realised she hadn't listened to a sentence. She reached for the remote and muted it.

The silence somehow felt louder.

Her eyes drifted towards her phone.

Lucy's final message still sat at the top of the screen.

Lucy:

Tell me everything tomorrow.

Amelia smiled.

That had been the plan. Lucy had work in the morning. Amelia had promised herself she'd sleep on everything before trying to explain it. Now she wasn't convinced she could wait that long. Her thumb hovered over the keyboard. She typed. Deleted it. Typed something else. Deleted that too.

How did you even begin explaining an evening that somehow contained the creepiest man she'd ever met and the nicest stranger she'd ever encountered? Eventually she settled on the simplest message she could think of.

Amelia:

Are you still awake?

The reply arrived almost instantly.

Lucy:

Knew you wouldn't make it until tomorrow.

Amelia laughed quietly.

Amelia:

How did you know?

Lucy:

Because you've either had the most boring evening imaginable...

Lucy:

...or you're currently overthinking something.

Lucy:

Considering it's you, I'm betting on option two.

Amelia shook her head.

Lucy knew her far too well. They had met during their first week at university after accidentally reaching for the same library book. Somehow that tiny coincidence had turned into a friendship that had survived dissertations, terrible housemates, break-ups, new jobs and countless takeaway nights. Lucy had always been able to read Amelia frighteningly well. Amelia hesitated before typing.

Amelia:

A man wouldn't leave me alone in the pub.

The typing indicator appeared almost instantly.

Lucy:

WHAT?

Lucy:

Are you okay?

Lucy:

Do I need to come over?

Warmth spread through Amelia's chest. That was Lucy all over. She asked questions later. She made sure you were safe first.

Amelia:

I'm okay now.

Lucy:

Now??

Lucy:

Amelia, don't do that.

You can't open with "a man wouldn't leave me alone" and then disappear.

Explain.

Amelia smiled despite herself.

Amelia:

He came over while I was reading.

Asked if he could sit down.

I tried to tell him I was leaving.

He sat down anyway.

Lucy:

Ugh.

Lucy:

Already don't like him.

Amelia:

Then he bought me another drink.

Lucy:

Without asking?

Amelia:

Yep.

Lucy:

Definitely don't like him.

Amelia smiled faintly. Reading the conversation back made the whole thing sound strangely obvious. Why hadn't she simply walked away? Because she hadn't wanted to be rude. Because she'd convinced herself she was imagining things. Because she'd spent twenty-eight years trying not to upset people.

Amelia:

It just kept getting worse.

He wouldn't stop talking.

Every time I tried to end the conversation, he found another reason to keep it going.

Lucy:

Did he touch you?

Amelia stared at the question. It should have been easy to answer.