Jonty bumps into me at the breakfast bar the next morning - seriously, we've got to stop meeting over food like this - and the first thing he does is simultaneously wiggle his eyebrows and flash a knowing smirk.

"Hey Sunita," he says, shovelling some Frosties into a bowl and reaching for the milk-jug. "Good effort last night."

I'm not sure whether Jonty is referring to the quiz (in which we did dismally, but not as dismally as some), or if he's congratulating me on copping off with his friend again. I shrug and try to smile, but it's forced like a grimace. He lowers his voice and speaks to me in a conspiratorial manner.

"You know that Paul really likes you, right?"

I edge cautiously away from him. "Mmm," I mutter quietly to myself, picking up a pair of tongs and depositing a croissant onto a plate. Flurries of pastry flakes scatter erratically across the counter. "I figured that out on my own."

"Ahh, don't be shy. You should have more confidence in yourself."

He's obviously mistaken my uncertainty for bashfulness. Seriously? I turn and survey him critically.

In the cold light of day, especially after witnessing his shameless behaviour first-hand last night, I really don't think Jonty's that attractive any more. Okay, it was only a silly college quiz, but we weren't going to win it; what was the harm in giving up one of our answers, especially when they gave us one of theirs?

His magnetic lure seems to be waning. He'll never fancy me anyway, so it's just as well I'm abandoning this pursuit. Whilst that thought is still a tiny bit soul-crushing, it doesn't wrench as painfully as it once did. Quite frankly, his inside has a lot of catching up to do with his outside when it comes to beauty.

Ugh. Men.

There's no further exchange between us. Jonty, distracted by the arrival of leggy blonde Leila Jarvis, has already lost what little interest he had in our brief conversation and has disappeared with his Frosties to kiss her arse.

I wrap my croissant in a napkin so that I can eat it later, then leave the refectory. All sorts of thoughts and emotions are jostling for space in my head. Indignation at Jonty and irritation at my failure to call him out yesterday. Short-fused fatigue following my parents' visit this weekend. Confusion - do I like Paul, or don't I? Frustration at myself for not pausing for thought before plunging in and agreeing to go out with him, all because I momentarily felt sorry for the guy. I'm already worrying about conversing with him on our date; there's only so much small-talk I can make and listen to.

I really shouldn't have said 'Yes', should I?

I've committed the inexcusable crime of snogging someone I don't even fancy twice now, and I was totally sober last night. Now I've promised to go for a drink with him and all I want to do is wriggle out of the arrangement. It just confirms to me what a terrible, superficial person I really am.

I'll tell Saffron and Judith about 'the date', of course. They might be able to come up with a suitable escape plan or survival tactic.

This weekend has really put me in an awkward, pensive frame of mind, meaning I'm far too distracted to concentrate on the way to lectures. It's only when I accidentally jump a red light on my bike and almost flatten a pedestrian, earning a barrage of abuse in return, that I'm forced into paying attention to my surroundings.

That little near-death incident shakes me out of one funk and puts me straight into another.

Idiot Sunita.

I'm still berating myself by the time I've reached the lecture theatre, and now my bag is beginning to irritate me because the straps keep sliding off my shoulders.

Fucking thing.

I sling the canvas bag down in annoyance as soon as I reach my seat. At least my rightful place is still vacant and waiting for me; I'm not sure I could have kept my emotions in check if someone else had got there first.

To my enormous surprise, Saffron is already occupying her normal position in our row, unicorn pencil-case lying open on the desk and notepad at the ready.

"Fuck me, Saff; did you shit the bed? You're normally still fast asleep at this time of day."

She surveys me grumpily. "Someone set the college fire alarm off at 6.20am."

"Oh. Bad luck, love."

"Fucking froze my tits off standing around in the courtyard in just my pyjamas for bloody ages whilst someone tried to find some smoke that didn't exist," she grumbles. "Fire engines rocked up and everything. No fit firemen either. Reallydid not need that start to my day."

I pat Saffron's shoulder sympathetically, as she glowers and hunkers down.

"Morning, ladies," says Judith jauntily, squeezing past us both to sit in her seat. "Bloody Hell, Saff; what are you doing here at this ungodly hour? Did you sleep here last night?"

In response, Saffron throws a feeble slap in Judith's direction. "Pack it in, both of you. I'm not in the mood."

Judith and I glance at each other and begin to giggle, and I immediately feel better. Seeing Saffron in a worse temper than mine brightens my spirit considerably.

There's an unexpected tap on my shoulder, making me squeak and whip around. Veronica Quansah is hovering apologetically behind me and pointing to the last vacant space in our row.

"Sunny, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to make you jump. Would anyone mind if I sat there?"

"Hi Ronnie; go ahead," I reply, as Veronica gives a grateful grin and sits down in the seat on the end of the row.

Judith reaches down and extracts a full-to-bursting lever arch file from her bag. She dumps it on the desk, opens it carefully and begins to thumb the pages.

"So how was your weekend, Sunny?" she asks as she rifles through her notes.

"Busy. My parents were here for most of it."

"Oh!" she exclaims, turning to face me. "Did you finally get to find out about your grandfather?"

"Nope," I reply gloomily. "Mum and Dad spent hours waxing lyrical about their trip to India and showing me all eleventy hundred of their photographs. It really does look like an amazing country, but God! Did they have to take so many snaps? They talked about Dad's side of the family a lot, but whenever I tried to steer the conversation around to Mum's side, she clammed up. Very bloody frustrating."

"That's annoying," she murmurs sympathetically.

"Right? I'll have to wait until Easter to see if I can worm the information out of Mum," I say gloomily. "I need a plan of action."

"Talking about plans of action, what are we doing after this lecture? MODA has been cancelled at 10am so we've got a break between this one and neuro at 11."

"I might need to snooze," says Saffron with a yawn.

"That's a point," I muse, chewing the end of my biro in thought. "What do we do for an hour?"

"Maybe find somewhere that serves strong coffee?" Judith suggests with a pointed glance in Saffron's direction.

I stifle a snort. "How did your weekend go, Jude? I forgot to ask."

"It was good. I…Oh. Lecture's about to start. I'll tell you later."

"Sunny, your mouth's all blue," smirks Saffron suddenly.

"Thought you were sleeping?" I retort, wiping my lips furiously against the back of my hand and noting, with dismay, the mauve smudge that appears. "Ugh! I'll never get this ink off!"

"Shush!"

Fifty minutes later, amidst the resounding clatter of students leaving the lecture theatre, Leonard turns around from his seat in the next row and faces us eagerly.

"Hey, what are you lot doing now, seeing as we've got an hour to kill?"

"Haven't really thought that much about it. Saffron wants to catch up on some kip. Jude thought we could go and have coffee somewhere?"

"Sounds good. Could we join you?"

"I reckon we can allow that," says Saffron drowsily, "but we haven't got anywhere in mind yet."

"What about that cafe on the corner of Trumpington Street and Pembroke Street? The one that looks like a really long bus shelter?"

"We could try it, I suppose? If there's not enough seating room, maybe we could get a coffee at one of the colleges instead. Tit Hall is the closest out of our lot, I think, unless Ronnie's is nearer."

"Oh! Am I invited?" Veronica asks, sounding surprised but pleased. "Thanks; that's really nice of you."

"Of course you are," I reply. "You don't have to come but if you've got nothing better to do, you'd be welcome to join us. Which college are you at, by the way?"

"Christ's," replies Veronica. "Not very far away. Tit Hall's nearer, though, I think."

"Clare college isn't that far from here either," says Yoshi. "About one minute closer than Tit Hall."

"Selwyn refectory has a lovely range of coffees," says Leonard dreamily, "if you don't mind the hike there and back."

"By the time we walk to your college, Lenny, it'll be time to walk back. Same with Jude's; Jesus college is almost in another time zone."

"But Pembroke is practically next-door," says Al, pulling on his jacket. "We can go there if you like?"

"Let's try the bus-stop place first," I reply. "If it's a no-go, we'll invade your college canteen, Al."

We troop out of the lecture theatre en masse and head down the concrete steps towards the site exit; a large stone archway which leads to Pembroke street. From there, it's only a couple of minutes' walk. The cafe is a weirdly-shaped place; long and lean with high glass windows, but the variety of teas and coffees they supply is excellent. We cluster around the counter and peruse the menu.

"What are you having, Sunny?"

"Hmm. I think I'll get a pot of Earl Grey."

"Not coffee?"

"Nah. Feeling bitter enough and coffee won't help," I say wryly.

"Oh, what's up?"

I shake my head. "Nothing, really. Just Jonty being a prick."

"What's the tosspot done now?"

At that moment, a cheerful lady approaches to take our order. The boys, who have already received their beverages, head over to sit on some stools facing the expanse of window. Veronica and I order tea; Saffron requests an espresso and Judith opts for a cappuccino. As we're waiting for the drinks to be prepared, Judith prompts me again.

"Go on; what's he been up to?"

I hesitate, feeling fractionally guilty for bad-mouthing him. "Well, it's not much," I begin.

"Just shagged a few more women, has he?"

"Ha, no! He gave another team the wrong answer to a question last night at our college quiz. On purpose. When they had answered one of ours for us correctly, I may add. I don't know why, but it bloody annoyed me."

"What do you expect from someone who only gives a fuck about the notches on his bedpost?"

"That's different. He thought his deceit was funny. I didn't find it amusing in the slightest. Lying is such a turn-off."

We collect our drinks and an unnecessary number of teaspoons, and join the boys at their window-table.

"So let me get this straight; this boy's promiscuity doesn't offend you but misleading an opposing team at a bar quiz does?" asks Veronica, who has clearly been following the conversation. She takes a sip of her coffee and assesses me thoughtfully, making me squirm guiltily under her gaze.

"Ooh, I like you!" Saffron exclaims, slinging an arm around Veronica's shoulders. "We've been trying to tell Sunny for ages that her priorities are completely out of whack. This guy is a complete wanker, but she won't listen."

"Hey, I did listen!" I shriek indignantly, causing the boys to immediately pause their discussion and swivel their focus onto ours. "It's just that the number of people he was shagging didn't bother me, because pretty much everyone who gets into bed with him - with the exception of his oblivious girlfriend from back home, obviously - knows exactly what they're signing up for."

"Guys, this conversation sounds so much more interesting than ours," says Leonard, his eyes gleaming as he shuffles his chair closer. "Could you start from the beginning?"

"No I bloody can't," I reply, my feathers ruffled. "I'm not going through it all again. Anyway, it pissed me off because deliberately giving the other team the wrong answer was totally unnecessary. We weren't going to win and neither were they."

"Well I'm glad you're finally getting over him," says Judith with a wry smile. "It's been going on for long enough."

"You won't believe what I've gone and done, though," I groan, quietly enough so the boys can't hear.

"Oh Sunny, what shit have you got yourself into now?" Saffron asks, much too enthusiastically. Some days, I'm convinced she thrives off my discomfort. "Tell us!"

As Yoshi and Leonard prick up their ears and look curiously in our direction again, I decide it's high time the spotlight should shine on someone else for a change. I'm bored of hogging it.

Ignoring the eager stares, I take a long, slow sip of tea before replying with a little shake of my head, much to Saffron's disappointment. "Tell you later," I mutter.

Judith, bless her, takes the hint. "So, what shit did everyone else get into this weekend?" she asks brightly.

After another lecture, followed by a confessional lunch-break, where Judith and Saffron proved to be no help whatsoever with my latest predicament (they laughed), the three of us head to Pathology for the first laboratory session of the term. As per usual, three is a crowd; we're supposed to work in twos in this class. At the beginning of the academic year, we agreed we'd rotate pairs, and this week, it happens to be Saffron and Judith's turn to join forces. I'm the odd one out, left to find someone else.

Leonard and Yoshi are in the process of choosing a work-station together. Veronica is sitting with a guy I don't recognise; probably a college friend. India has teamed up with Claire. A group of St John's students are clumped together in the centre of the room. Not that I'd ever voluntarily sit with them; as I discovered early on in first year, we aren't particularly compatible. It's why I don't interact with or think about my fellow college medics much at all.

Frowning, I quickly appraise the remaining single members of the room, none of whom I recognise. In the corner, a bushy-haired girl with glasses is poring over her handbook alone; she looks a harmless enough person. Maybe I'll see if I can join her lab station.

Clutching the shoulder-strap of my bag, I begin to walk over towards her, when the sound of my name makes me jump.

"Hey, Sunita."

I turn and find myself face-to-face with Al. Well, not quite face-to-face; he's quite a few inches taller than I am. More face to shoulder, I guess. Hmm, did I ever mention what well-defined trapezius muscles he has? Lovely and sculpted, in fact. The revelation makes me flush.

"Need a lab partner?"

"Um yeah; I guess I do," I reply as I fidget awkwardly with my bag-strap and desperately try to think of something to say. "Thought you'd probably be pairing up with Orla?"

"Orla crossed my mind," he murmurs, "but you're here and available, in the right place at the right time, so you'll do." Al pulls out a stool for me and one for himself, and gestures for me to sit.

His voice has an amused lilt to it. Caught unawares and unable to refuse, I retort in the only way I'm capable of when put on the spot; snarkily.

"Who says I'm available? How presumptuous and condescending of you."

Al's face breaks out into a dazzling grin. "Wow. You know me so well already! So, are you going to sit down?"

"I suppose so," I concede, as I shuffle onto the offered lab stool. "What's the practical on today?"

"Pathogenic bacteria," says Al. "We have a tray of slides to examine, two assays to prepare, and then we need to swab each other's throats and culture the samples."

Hang on; swab each other's throats? Al is going to swab my throat?

Oh fuck, how potentially embarrassing. Suddenly, I'm paranoid about the smell of my breath. How much garlic have I eaten this week? Did I remember to brush my teeth this morning? Do I have horrendous halitosis and no-one has ever told me?

I clutch my neck in horror. "Can't I swab my own throat?"

"Yes, of course, if you can accurately find your own tonsils without visualising them," shrugs Al, as he skims through the relevant section in our course-book, seemingly unconcerned about this rather intimate and invasive experiment. He extracts a pen from his lab-coat pocket and begins to jot down a few notes.

My eyes narrow as I stare intently at the blue biro in his hand. It looks rather familiar. There's a sudden flashback to a memory from over three months ago. A cold lecture theatre step and a feeling of extreme annoyance.

I give a sudden yelp. "Hey! That's my pen!"

Al abruptly stops writing and frowns slightly. "Is it?"

"Yes!"

"Hmm." He twirls the pen between his fingers and gazes at it thoughtfully for a moment, before handing it over to me with an awkward, crooked smile. "You know, you're right. My apologies."

I take it off him a little guiltily, then pause.

"Hang on. Do you need a pen?"

"Well…I can't deny it wouldn't come in handy for taking notes," he deadpans.

"Keep it then," I reply, pushing it back into his hand.

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I'll mourn its loss, but your need is greater."

"I'm so touched."

"Give it a good home. That's all I ask. Maybe buy a few more biros so it doesn't get lonely."

"Are you sure?" Al says, giving me a gentle nudge with his forearm. "Perhaps it likes being an independent implement?"

Oh man. I cannot resist a pun and he obviously knows it.

"Fair point," I retort, nudging him back.

"I'm usually write, remember?" Al replies teasingly, handing me the assay tray with a flourish and an unexpectedly breathtaking smile.

Dear God, it's suddenly become very warm in here…

It was a bad idea to pair up with Al.

There's no doubting his academic brilliance and attention to detail, but he's so bloody distracting.

I simply can't help sneaking side-glances at him as he peers earnestly down the microscope and arranges the slide carefully on the stage. Aside from that smile, he's got a rather aesthetic facial profile and his slender fingers are deft yet gentle, like a piano player's or an artist's.

"What?"

Al turns, taking me by surprise. Caught and overcome, I quickly look away, but not before my mind has photographically captured his endearingly quizzical expression and stored it next to the memory of that dream.

"What's up?" Al asks again, slightly more suspiciously this time.

"Nothing," I mumble, ducking my head and focusing my attention directly on the open handbook in front of me. "Nothing's up at all."

Oh shit, Universe. Don't do this to me.