"Well? How was it?"

It's the first thing I get asked as Saffron enters the lecture theatre and plonks herself down next to me. No generic "good morning" or "hey, did you have a nice weekend, Sunny?" I know exactly what she's referring to, given that my dating anyone is a massive fucking deal to her, and I know she's only being best-friend curious, but I'm not exactly ecstatic to be reliving the nightmare so soon after it happened.

"Oh sorry, Sunny; I totally forgot to ask!" Judith says, splaying a hand across her face apologetically.

"It's fine, Jude," I reply, grateful that it had slipped her mind, because otherwise I'd have to regale the whole thing twice.

"So go on," prompts Saffron eagerly. "Tell me all about Paul!"

I take a deep inward breath and sigh. "You know last year when I thought I'd failed Physiology, and I was panicking like crazy that I'd have to re-sit the exam, and couldn't decide whether to cry or throw up?"

"Ye-es," replies Saffron in confusion.

"Well I'd rather go through that experience again than have another date with him," I state, as Veronica makes gentle noises of sympathy, Judith grimaces, and all three boys stare blankly at the floor. "Paul's a really nice guy, but I just don't fancy him. I feel awful for saying that."

"Mmm." Saffron pats my shoulder, seemingly lost for words, for once. "Plenty more fish in the sea, petal."

"I don't want a fucking fish."

"No, I understand."

I sigh. "It's just so bloody frustrating. I'm not compatible with the guys I unwittingly attract, and the ones that I do like never spare me a second glance."

"Oh come on, Sunny! I bet there are loads of guys who want to date you. You would, wouldn't you Yoshi?"

"I…err…what?" Yoshi splutters, looking distinctly uncomfortable as Leonard starts to snigger and Al immediately applies his disinterested face.

"Saffron Olivia Hudson Magellan!" I yelp in horror. "That's totally out of order! Apologise to Yoshi immediately!"

"It's a perfectly innocuous question," says Saffron smoothly, not deterred in the slightest. "Would you or wouldn't you, Yoshi?"

"Why me?" Yoshi turns desperately to Al for moral support, but finding none, gazes imploringly at Judith instead. "Must we go through this?"

"Yes, Saffron. Must we?"

Saffron smirks. "For what it's worth, I think you two would be so cute together."

"No WAY!" Yoshi and I shriek simultaneously.

"I wouldn't put those two together in a million years," says Judith, mildly amused. "It'd fizzle out before it even started."

"I've told you once already; Yoshi and I are pun-pals, that's all," I reply firmly

"Wait; you've had this conversation before?" Yoshi demands, his eyes flicking accusingly back and forth between Saffron and I.

"Relax, Yoshi. You know I love you dearly as a friend and nothing more. I'd…well, I'd always be playing second fiddle to your violin, wouldn't I? I'd hate that!"

I roll my eyes reproachfully at my own dismal joke, but Yoshi starts to laugh with fervour.

"No offence, Sunny, but you're far too high maintenance in comparison to my beloved violin. In the end, I'd just be stringing you along."

"See, Saffron? I rest my case."

"So who would you put Sunny with then, Jude?" asks Saffron after sticking her tongue out at me, obviously a little annoyed that her matchmaking skills have gone unappreciated.

Judith gazes at me silently for a moment as though she's giving the matter great consideration. Eventually, she replies.

"I have an idea who Sunny would suit. I just don't know whether to say or not."

"Oh say it," I retort. "Saffron has already chipped in with her recommendation. Yours is bound to be an improvement on hers."

Judith shrugs. "If you're sure."

"I am," I reply, adjusting my shoulders and pushing my chest out. "I'm ready for whatever you throw at me, Jude."

"Well here goes, then. I think you and Al would be great together."

Okay; I wasn't quite expecting that response. Instantly, I freeze and blush, not daring to look in Al's direction for fear of witnessing a disappointing reaction.

"Al?" Saffron squawks in disbelief. "Fucking Hell, no! Sunny hates him!"

"Err, hello?" Al says, sounding torn between amusement and pain. "I'm right here, just so you know."

"Oh God, I don't hate you, Al!" I mutter in embarrassment as Judith shakes her head and rolls her eyes.

"Why would you put Sunny with Al?" Saffron asks incredulously, swivelling her focus between Al and I as though she's watching us in a rapid-fire game of tennis.

"If you paid attention, you'd realise that they're actually a really good match personality-wise," says Judith matter-of-factly. "They complement each other pretty well, I think."

By now, I want to shrink under the desk and I suspect Al does too.

"Honestly," I mumble, "I'm not actually looking for a relationship right now anyway."

"No, neither am I," agrees Al.

Well, that works out perfectly for both of us, then, doesn't it? I'm really glad we cleared that up.

"Al, how was your birthday, by the way?" I ask him, high-pitched and desperate to return to a semblance of normality. I have a card for him in my bag which I obviously can't give to him now; my friends would mock me mercilessly.

"It was great, thanks," replies Al blandly. "Went to 'The Mitre' and had a few drinks with friends."

"Your powers of observation are second to none, Jude. Oof, the chemistry between them!" Saffron sniggers childishly, as Judith whacks her with a neuroanatomy workbook and begins to laugh too.

Seriously, Saffron and Judith, I am going to KILL you both later.

"Who should Saffron pair up with, then?" Yoshi asks Judith, a mischievous smile crossing his face.

"Oh, that's easy," she replies airily. "There's only one person who would happily put up with Saff, and that's Lenny."

Yoshi dissolves into peals of laughter and elbows a surprised-looking Leonard, whilst Saffron appears to be caught in a state of suspended animation.

"Saffron! Come here my little macaroon," lilts Leonard brightly, clearly revelling in Judith's prediction.

"Err, haven't you forgotten?" Saffron gasps, glaring at Judith. "I'm already with someone!"

"Who is this cad who taketh my lady away from me?" Leonard roars theatrically, much to Yoshi's continued amusement. "I shall challenge him to a duel immediately."

"Oh he won't last, Lenny," I say cheerfully, mightily glad to be rid of the focus. "Zeb's a plaything. A mere toy with which to pass the time until a real man comes along, *cough* Leonard *cough*."

"I'll have you know, I'm very fond of Zeb," sniffs Saffron.

"No you're not. You like him for his name and that's all."

"What's he called - Seb? Sebastian?"

"No; Zeb. Short for Zebedee."

"Zebedee?"

"Yes, Zebedee. Apparently, his parents were both very fond of 'The Magic Roundabout' when they were children."

"Oh my God, I literally cannot fight an opponent called Zebedee," says Leonard dramatically, trying and failing to suppress his laughter.

I correct him immediately. "You couldn't fight anyone, Lenny. You're a harmless gooey treacle sponge, not shark-infested custard. Anyway, you won't need to do battle; Zebedee will probably go 'boing' very soon and then you can have the lovely Saffron aaaaaaall to yourself."

"Stop it, you!" Saffron growls, thumping me with her unicorn pencil-case.

"So Saffron, my darling crème pâtissière, when are we going to double-date with Al and Sunny?"

"For the last time, I AM GOING OUT WITH ZEB!"

"You're going out with Zebedee for the last time? Marvellous! Bagsy dating you next!"

Saffron, looking like she's about to boil over, pauses for a moment to recover her composure before addressing Leonard in a syrupy tone. "But Lenny? What about your allegiance to India? I couldn't possibly deprive her of such a fine suitor. It would break her poor, dear heart."

"India who? I only have eyes for yooooo, my dear sweet Battenburg," sings Leonard tunefully, clearly well into his stride now.

"Oh my God, Leonard Vincent Denby-Parker, do you not know when to stop?" Saffron wails desperately, losing her cool again. "This is getting ridiculous!"

"Only getting ridiculous?" Yoshi splutters.

"What's up, Saff - can't stand the taste of your own medicine?" I quip, as Saffron angrily brandishes her pencil-case again and forces me to seek refuge behind my neurobiology handbook.

It feels good to laugh at someone else's expense, for a change.

"What's everyone doing for lunch?" Leonard asks, as we all prepare to depart the lecture theatre several hours later.

"Going back to college," replies Judith, packing her bag in a hurry and swiftly vacating her seat. "Got a supervision in fifteen minutes. I'll see you all in Pathology at two."

"I've got an orchestra club meeting at Queens college," says Yoshi. "Was going to grab a bite from the sandwich van on the way there."

"I haven't made any plans yet," says Veronica hopefully. "I also haven't packed any food so I'll need to buy it from somewhere."

"I'm starving," moans Saffron. "I didn't bring anything with me either."

"You're not starving, Saffron; you're hungry. There's a difference," I grumble, rather peckish myself. "I've got to finish an essay on Monoamine Oxidase Inhibitors and then make a start on my neuro one. Oh, and I need to retrieve my bike from Pembroke at some point."

"Do you want to get your bike now or wait until after Pathology?"

"I think I'll hang on until home time, if that's okay. Chances of me finding somewhere to secure it at this time of day will be slim to none."

"Suits me. Oh, hi Orla," says Al suddenly, as his girlfriend appears in front of him, tapping her foot impatiently, still stunningly beautiful despite the frown she's sporting. She flexes her wrist, encircled by a silver watch.

"Hurry up and pack your things, Al. I told the gang we'd meet them at ten past twelve, and it's almost five past already."

"Mer - I thought we were meeting at twelve-thirty? Honestly, Orla, you could have given us a bit more time to get there!" Al yelps, slightly annoyed. "It's not like we can just…well, you know."

"Whatever, Al. Come on." Orla drags her boyfriend off his seat and practically frogmarches him up the lecture theatre steps. Al casts an apologetic look back in our direction as he's whisked away.

"Now that was a textbook demonstration of how to wear the trousers in a relationship," says Leonard, with grudging admiration.

In the end, Leonard, Veronica and Saffron decide to invade Christ's college for lunch. I decline the invite, opting instead to find a quiet corner of the nearby pharmacology library so that I can conclude my essay in peace. I switch my phone into silent mode, noting with slight dismay that Paul has sent several WhatsApp messages. I'll reply later.

By the time I arrive at the Pathology department for this afternoon's practical session, I'm ravenous. I've finished one essay and started another, but at a price, because food is not permitted in any Cambridge library, not even quietly-eaten bags of Doritos, apparently.

Who knew that librarians could get so upset over harmless snacks?

I have just about enough time to inhale a brunch bar before entering the teaching laboratory. Hastily wiping the crumbs away from my mouth, I stuff the empty wrapper into my pocket and try to remember which work-station I sat at last week.

Al is already installed and he waves me over as soon as he notices me wandering haplessly around the room.

"You looked lost," he says pleasantly, pulling out a chair for me to sit on. "It's only a short practical today. We just need to examine the cultures we set up last week and determine what's grown, then look at a couple of ready-made slides and work out what's on them."

"That sounds straightforward enough," I reply, adding "just don't let me rush off home in a spate of enthusiasm afterwards because I'll forget all about my bike."

"I'll remind you. We can go get it as soon as we finish up here."

"Thanks. Did you have a nice lunch, by the way?"

"Not really," laughs Al. "Had a rather full-on meeting with one of our college directors."

"Ugh," I murmur sympathetically. "What misdemeanour did you commit?"

"Me? None! I've behaved impeccably this term," replies Al in mock outrage. "Professor Rees was just worried about security, that's all. He's a bit…err…anal about it."

"I wish our college took security more seriously," I mutter. "Someone stole two of my yoghurts and mutilated my block of cheddar last week. Hey, you; stop laughing!"

"Your cheese got injured?"

"Fatally. By someone's teeth. Some piece of shit ate a chunk out of my cheddar and left it unwrapped in the fridge so it got mouldy."

"Someone…bit your cheese? You've gouda be kidding me."

"I'm not joking!" I cry, noticing the pun too late, then adding a resentful "smart-arse" with a sharpened elbow accompaniment.

Al dodges the blow and continues mercilessly. "If that had happened to anyone else, I'd think they were bullshitting, but because it's your cheese, it's an entirely brie-lievable tale. Maybe next time you'll store your food more caerphilly."

This boy knows exactly how to get to my heart, and his laugh is incredibly infectious; I can't help joining in.

"Edamn, you're good. Are you competing with Yoshi to be the pundisputable champion, perchance?"

Al grins and runs a hand through his hair. "Am I being that obvious? Well that's just grate. But there's no competition really; I'm definitely feta than Yoshi."

"Hallouminating revelation of your ego there."

"I'm nacho average man."

By now, I'm laughing so hard I'm practically crying. I lean against the laboratory bench-top for support and wipe the tears away with the sleeve of my still-very-pink lab-coat.

"Aw, don't cheddar tear over my jokes."

"You win, okay? Just stop!"

"I'm glad we finally agree on something," says Al smugly. "Let's get started on this practical, shall we?"

"That's an excellent idea," I reply. "Would you mind setting up the microscope and I'll get our bacterial plates out of the incubator?"

"Sounds good to me."

Al flashes me the most heart-stopping smile and wink before turning around to commence work.

Unfortunately for my now-aching abdominal muscles, I'm in one of those moods where I'll laugh at anything, and the hilarity doesn't stop at cheeses. Al takes great delight in poking fun at the white, fluffy creature I seem to have cultured from my own throat, which is occupying the whole of an agar plate and obscuring any possible bacterial colonies.

"That did not come from me! It looks like a fucking feather boa."

"I agree. It'll be an environmental contaminant, probably. There's not mushroom in your pharynx for that."

"Al, you're such a fungi," I retort with a groan.

Actually, I'm not lying. Being with Al is, surprisingly, a lot of fun.

"Sorry, are all these puns sporing you?" Al grins and arranges a slide on the microscope, searching carefully using the oil-immersion high power lens. "Here. Have a look at these colonies. I think they're Streptococcus."

I squint down the eyepiece, adjusting the focus to suit my own vision. "Streptococcus or Staphylococcus?"

"Well, they're both gram positive cocci, but Staphs are usually clustered, and these are in chains and pairs. Plus some of the cells are ovoid in shape. Must be Streps."

"I'll take your word for 're always bloody right."

"Mostly, not always. It's good to stay humble," he quips, smirking at my indignant expression as he swiftly replaces the used slide with another prepared one. "This one shows Staphs, look."

I don't bother to check; just write down the correct identification in my handbook.

"Any more slides to identify?"

"Nope. We're all done, I think." Al ticks off the boxes out loud. "Plated colonies have all been identified, except for your hairy little friend, of course. Slide work completed. Assays were finished last week. I think we're good to go."

"Great. Let's get the Hell out of here, then. Oh," I add, suddenly remembering Al's birthday card, which I fish out of my bag and hand over to him, blushing slightly. "Belated happy birthday."

"You shouldn't have," he says, opening the envelope and letting out a laugh as he reads the card. "No, really; you shouldn't have. 'Your youth has officially expired'. Such a thoughtful sentiment."

"It's a slippery slope from now on," I grin. "Just glad I'm not there yet."

"You'll be joining me soon enough."

"Oh, not for ages," I reply as we walk out of the lab together and down the stairs to the exit. "End of July. Worst time to have a birthday - right in the middle of the holidays."

"I dunno," he says, casually slinging an arm over my shoulder, much to my pleasant surprise. "I think summer is a pretty good time to be born. You can have a pool party, or barbecue, or hang out at the beach…"

"I live in Rotherham, the cesspit of the north. No-one of my social standing has a pool in Rotherham. Barbecues are just a way to bring the family together for a fist-fight over a charcoaled sausage, and we're miles away from any beach, the closest one being Cleethorpes. The last time I went there, I stepped on a dog-turd. With bare feet."

Al is laughing silently. I know this because he still has his arm around my shoulder and it's shaking.

"So you see," I continue, "it's the worst time to have a birthday."

"You never know," he murmurs, "this year might be different."

"Very possible," I reply cynically. "Ooh look; a flying pig."

"Where?" Al asks in astonishment, removing his arm from my shoulder to shade his eyes as he scans the grey sky above our heads. "I can't see anything."

"Well of course not. I was being sarcastic, as in 'pigs might fly'. Don't tell me you've never encountered that figure of speech before?" I say, taking in his confused expression.

"Of course I have," he replies, sounding slightly defensive. "Just a different version, that's all."

"What other version?"

"Oh look - we've reached Pembroke," says Al, clearly ignoring my question. "Want to get your bike?"

"Yes please. What other version?" I press.

Al mumbles something unintelligible before whipping out his college swipe card and promptly disappearing into the bike shed. I follow, glad to be reunited with my bicycle. Although it's not that far from St John's to the University departments, being able to ride in and back saves me a lot of time.

I dismantle the D-locks and put them away, then sling my bag over my shoulder. "Are you ever going to tell me your version?"

"Are you ever going to give up asking?"

"Nope."

"Then I'm not giving up either."

Al gives me a cheeky wave and vanishes at lightning speed through a little wooden side-door into Pembroke college before I have a chance to ask again.

Git.

After cycling back to St John's and having a shower, I make a quick trip to the refectory and purchase a reduced price raspberry and white chocolate muffin to tide me over until dinner time. I have a few hours before my pharmacology supervision at five-thirty; enough time to make progress on my neuro essay, read through my completed pharmacology essay and compile a list of questions relating to last week's lectures.

At five-fifteen, I pick up my pharmacology books and make my way to the supervision room. It's only a five minute walk to the other side of second court, but why be late and anxious when I can arrive early and relaxed and have the pick of seats?

"Hey bae! Wait up!"

Oh crap. Paul, with his horrid habit of turning up in unexpected places, strikes again.

My heart sinks on hearing his voice just as I've descended the staircase. I suddenly remember he sent me a number of WhatsApp messages earlier that I've yet to reply to.

It would be impolite to pretend I haven't noticed him, wouldn't it?

Yes, it would. Don't even think about it, Sunita.

With an inward sigh, I stop. Plastering an apologetic expression on my face, I turn to greet him.

"Hi Paul. I got your message. I'm really sorry; I've just been too busy today to reply."

"Not a problem. It's really good to see you," he says with a warm smile. "Where are you going?"

"Pharmacology supe," I reply. "I can't stop, I'm afraid; I'm already running a bit late."

That's obviously a fib, but Paul doesn't need to know that. At least seeing me rushing to get to a supervision with my arms full of books adds conviction to my story.

"Not even for a minute?" Paul's hazel eyes bore into my dark-brown ones, as though he's trying to read my mind or hypnotise me. "I haven't stopped thinking about you all day."

His words are disconcerting. Has he really nothing better to do than think about me all day? That's a bit…intense.

"Umm, thanks, I, err, I've really got to go, you know." I let out a hasty giggle as I reply.

"Any chance you've checked your timetable yet? Are you free at all this week?"

"I'm sorry, Paul; I'm working flat out at the moment. This term is super hectic already."

"I understand," he says with a light laugh. "What about the weekend? Surely you'll have some down time then?"

"Maybe. Could we discuss it later? I have to go now. Got a supe and I'm already late. I - I'll message you, okay?"

He catches hold of my hand as I'm about to fly past, raises it to his mouth and presses his lips to it.

"Paul, I…"

"Yeah, I know; you're late for a supervision." He smiles brightly, but doesn't let go of my hand. "Live a little, bae."

My heart rate increases two-fold. Not going to lie, I'm finding this behaviour quite intimidating, even though I'm sure Paul's intentions are wholesome.

"I won't be living much if my supervisor murders me," I quip with a sarcastic laugh, covering for my nervousness as I yank my hand out of his grip. The recoil as our fingers detach sends me stumbling back a step.

As soon as I've recovered my balance, I tighten the hold on my books and I run.