She didn't stay much long. Not because they didn't want to be together much longer. Because they did. But Bridget had agreed to meet her friends at the train station at 8am and Mark had his mid-term at 9am. The bloody mid-term.

If the Admiral knew that he had spent the night before the thing that would determinate his future drinking and hanging out with a girl, he would disown him. But he didn't regret it. Not for one minute.

Shortly after arriving at his dorm, Bridget had left. They talked about nothing and everything, as they say. She told him about her passion for literature, he told him about his passion of helping people and finding a way to do so by becoming a Barrister, to which she found inspiring. He, on the other hand, found her love for romance novels adorable, even more so because she was convinced that real life was the same.

He felt terrible that he missed the party her parents had thrown when she got accepted to Bangor, her dream University as she confessed. If Cleaver new she wanted to study English at Bangor he would roll his eyes and laugh his arse off, he thought. But how could he tell her that he skipped it because he didn't want to celebrate a life-long achievement with a girl he barely knew without hurting her feelings? His friends – and, if he had to be honest, some girls – told him that sometimes he comes out as a cold person with a hot poker up his arse; and he liked this Bridget girl. He thought she was a keeper, and he didn't want to upset her the one night they got to spend together.

Being true to the gentleman that he is, he accompanied her to the train station. All of her friends were waiting for her and, shortly after, they kissed goodbye on the cheek – although he wished he had kissed her fully on her perfect lips –, she wished him good luck on his test, he retaliated by doing the same with the new chapter in her life, and with that, she left.

Feeling gloomy, he went to take his final mid-term.

Xxxxxx

He didn't mean to brag, but he aced that sucker. The Admiral would be proud.

And he was. He called him as soon as he got to his dorm and his father congratulated him as he would. "My boy, this is the first day of the rest of your life. You've worked hard and it payed off."

"Thank you, Father." He simply thanked as he yawned, which didn't go unnoticed by his father.

"Have you not slept well? If you hadn't got a good night's sleep then I'm not so sure you did very well." The Admiral chastised.

Mark pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed in tired frustration. "No, no, I did. It's just that the test was tiring and I feel as if a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders." He quickly dismissed as a yawn threatened to escape his lips again. He was sitting on the bed and it was hard not to lie down and rest his back. After three hours of maintaining a sitting position and standing up all night, his back was killing him.

"Oh. Well, in that case, I'll let you get back to your things. We're very proud of you, son."

"Thank you." He said again and his father replied with a "mm-hm" before hanging up.

Mark fell back on his bed and fell asleep.

Xxxxx

Later that day, Mark met Jeremy at the rec room. He was surprised to see girls standing by the pool table or playing with the various arcade games, given that girls weren't allowed at the building. Yet, he was even more surprised that Cleaver was nowhere to be seen.

Probably sleeping off a wicked hangover.

"How was the test?" Mark asked as he took a sip of water.

Jeremy raised his eyebrows in amusement and smirked. "You're seriously asking me about the test and not swimming in this sea of girls, Darce? Live a little, will you? Soon we'll be gone. Your old girlfriend's probably sleeping with other men, you should move on and sleep with young ladies."

It was Mark's turn to raise his eyebrows in confusion. Jeremy simply shrugged and chugged his beer.

"About that…" Mark started, scratching the back of his head and looking down at the floor. How do I ask about Bridget without sounding awkward?

"What, Darcy?" Jeremy asked after Mark backed out of talking. He meant to encourage him, but his tone suggested a hint of annoyance.

"How'd it go with that girl yesterday?" Mark decided to change the subject and not face his interests head on. He might be a handsome man, but he wasn't one for romantic declarations or gestures; and he was definitely not the kind who asked people for dating advice. He just dealt with it himself or let it consume him, leading to an eventual break up.

Mark's thought's came to a halt when he saw Jeremy's expression change from the one of a horny/player 20-something year-old, to the expression of a teenager in love. "Oh, Magda. She's amazing. She's going to be a teacher, moulding tiny brains into bright ones." There was a spark in his eyes that made Mark feel jealous. Never in his life had he experienced something like that, not even for his Japanese-ex. Although, he was starting to have a little twinkle for Bridget.

"She seemed like a nice girl." Mark smiled.

"That she is. Plus, she's a redhead. And you know what they say…" Mark looked confused and shrugged. "They're crazy." Jeremy wiggled his eyebrows and Mark laughed.

Hearing him talk about what seemed to be the love of his life gave Mark the courage to talk about the possible – if not the most likely – love of his life – to Jeremy, only that the moment of slight bravery was interrupted when a girl shouted in anger at an arcade game and kicked it, breaking the machine. Her snap caught the attention of the residents of the building who snapped back at her. Jeremy laughed at them.

"So, what about you and that blonde girl?" Jeremy asked, startling Mark.

"Oh, Bridget. She's nice." Mark simply said. She's more than nice, he thought. She's the sweetest person and funniest person I've ever met.

"Yeah, Magda told me about her. She was babbling at one point that she was so happy Bridget's with someone. Apparently she had a boyfriend a few years ago and hasn't quite gone back to the dating world." Jeremy informed.

"Oh. She didn't say anything of the sort to me." He said with a bit of disappointment. Why should he feel disappointed, though?

Why couldn't she have had a boyfriend before you did, idiot? You sure as hell had a girlfriend before. Why the fuck are you disappointed for?

The commotion by the arcade game had settled and the girl moved on to another one, this time with the supervision of three boys. Which she didn't appear to mind, nor did the boys appear to mind being next to her.

"Are you going to see her again?"

"I'd love to, but she didn't leave any contact information, and she's leaving for Bangor in a few months."

"Well, don't your parents know hers? Call them and ask for her phone number." Jeremy suggested matter-of-factly and looked at him. Mark pondered on this and his face lit up. Jeremy smiled and patted his shoulder, setting his beer bottle on the pool table behind them and walked towards an arcade game.

Mark walked so quickly to his dorm that he might as well have been running.

Xxxxx

"Darling, why do you need the Jones's phone number and home address for?" His mother asked.

"I wanted to apologise for skipping the party. It was rude and I should've gone. You didn't raise a man who skips events for his own selfish reasons, so I felt it right to offer them my forgiveness." Mark lied. He was playing with the chord of his phone and closing his eyes, deep in concentration of how else he could unfold this web of lies.

"Oh, well. That's very nice of you, Mark. I'm sure Pam will be delighted you called. And I guarantee she'll want to set you up with her lovely daughter." Mark chuckled softly. If only she knew…

"Thank you, Mother. I'll try not to give in to her desires."

"I've got the contact information right next to me. You have something to write it down on?"

Mark never jolted something so fast – and so messy – before in his life.

Xxxxx

It felt as if he had been travelling for hours when in reality, he had been on the train for just five minutes. After hanging up with his mother, he started dialling Bridget's number, but suddenly refrained from doing so. He remembered that one of the things he didn't like about himself – and that his previous girlfriends had accused and left him for – was that he didn't do romantic gestures. It wasn't intentionally: he simply didn't know how to do them.

Instead, he decided to jump on a train that weekend and surprise her at her house. And that he did.

He arrived at Grafton Underwood and he realised that he might've just called before, because maybe no one was home. His worries were put at ease almost instately though when he got closer to the Jones's residence and saw a blonde girl move around the house in her pyjamas.

Mark smiled and walked with more purpose.

Upon reaching her front door, he rang the doorbell and braced himself. The door opened and Bridget jumped slightly back, taken aback. Mark found her adorable, however. She looked as if she had just woken up with her wrinkled light blue pyjamas, her hair as if it had had a fight with the pillow, her bunny slippers and her squinting eyes.

"Oh, my God. Mark?" Bridget said after a few moments with a hand on her hand.

"Surprise." He said in his monotonous voice, even though he was trying hard to sound nonchalant.

"What are you doing here?" She released a breath neither she nor he realised she had been holding, and smiled.

"Beautiful day." He acknowledged looking at the bright blue sky.

Bridget stared at him gobsmacked. "Yes, it is. I'm sorry, did you come here to talk to me about the weather?"

Mark laughed.

God, she's beautiful.

"No, no. I came here as a romantic gesture." Mark shook his head and looked at the floor sheepishly.

"Oh. Okay?"

He took a deep breath and tried to say the following word with little awkwardness as possible, "go out with me?"