It's been four days since I was accosted by Paul at the bottom of a staircase in Second Court, an interaction which has necessitated some creative navigation of college and an avoidance of the college bar. Despite wanting to gauge Gabriela's opinion on this latest development, I've not seen her at all. I'm guessing Marcus is to blame for her recent absence. If he doesn't return my much-missed neighbour soon, I might have to file a custody demand.

Today, courtesy of an unexpected three-hour-long break, my friends and I have taken the opportunity to trek all the way to Selwyn college for lunch, mainly to please Leonard who has been nagging us to visit for quite a while now. What a lovely Friday this is turning out to be. Two of our three lectures have been cancelled and there's just an hour-long seminar left to endure in the afternoon.

University, with all this free time you are really spoiling us.

"How many coffee options does one college need?" I gasp, studying the vast array of pods in front of me at the drinks counter of Selwyn's dining hall. There are at least four different varieties of 'Colombian Dark' on offer. "How the Hell do I choose?"

"Close your eyes and pick one?" Leonard suggests with a proud grin. He's been waxing lyrical about Selwyn's coffees for the entire time I've known him and I think he's very happy to finally be able to show off the vast selection for real.

"Not even my Mum's boutique hotel has this much choice. I think I might try this one," I reply, selecting a coffee called 'Mocha Djimmah'. "Mellow and fruity with notes of cocoa and nut. Sounds intriguing, and that name is mint."

"Good decision, cupcake. I've tried that one and it definitely gets the Leonard seal of approval. It's smooth and delicious and I think you'll love it."

After purchasing my egg salad sandwich and fancy coffee, I traipse across the hall to where Yoshi, Al, Saffron, Veronica and Judith are already seated around a large circular table in a sunny part of the refectory.

"Did you say your Mum owns a boutique hotel?" Claire asks me curiously, once we have both sat down and started on our food. Claire hardly ever interacts with any of us outside of dissection class, but for some reason she asked if she could join us for lunch today.

"Oh God no, we're nowhere near rich enough to own a hotel!" I reply with a laugh, taking a sip of my coffee and smacking my lips appreciatively. "Mmmm! You were right, Lenny - this is really good shit."

"Is that what both your parents do, then? Hotel work?"

"No. My Mum's a hotel manager but my Dad's an engineer."

"Oh. How come you're doing medicine, then? Did your parents push you into it? It's considered a prestigious degree in your country, isn't it?"

I feel quite offended, both by the insinuation that I'm only studying medicine through parental force, and also the assumption of my nationality.

Bristling slightly, I snap back a reply. "Actually, my heritage is nothing to do with my career choice. I'm not putting myself through this Hell just for the kudos! And Britain is my country, not India, by the way. I was born here. So was my Mum."

"I didn't mean it like that," says Claire defensively. "I just know of other Asian people who did medicine because that's what their parents wanted them to study."

"That's a rather stereotypical viewpoint," says Judith. "You can't base an opinion about a whole group of people on your own personal experience of one or two individuals. Sunny has already told you neither of her parents are medics and this degree is her own choice."

"Well, I've heard of more than one or two, actually," replies Claire mutinously, still trying to justify her statement; fuck only knows why, because I've just disproved it. "Anyway, it doesn't matter. Forget that I asked."

"So what do your parents do then, Claire? Medicine?"

"No. My Mum's a dentist and my Dad's an accountant," she replies, "but it's not so much of a thing to blindly follow in your parents' footsteps here, is it?"

"Isn't it? My father's an orthopaedic surgeon and my mother is a paediatrician. They both studied medicine at Cambridge in the nineties, so you could definitely accuse me of being a copycat," says Leonard, chipping in forthrightly.

"Aw, Lenny! How romantic!" Saffron squeals, clapping her hands in delight. "Were your parents at the same college?"

"No. Mum was a Catz student and Dad was Downing. And sorry to burst your romantic bubble, mon petit soufflé, but my parents got a divorce about ten years ago. The conception of my youngest brother Ben was probably the very last romantic moment they shared."

"Oh wow," says Saffron, with an awkward little laugh. "I'm, err, sorry to hear that."

"Don't be; they get on so much better now that they're not under the same roof."

"Lucky you. My parents also got divorced years ago and they still hate each other," says Claire, rolling her eyes. "Me and my twin sister Sally do pretty well out of Christmases and birthdays, though. Mum and Dad are always trying to outdo each other with gifts."

"That sounds like a nightmare," says Judith sympathetically. "It must be awful to be caught up in your parents' issues."

"Doesn't bother me much, especially now I'm hardly at home," replies Claire with a shrug. "Sally gets a bit pissed off, though."

"I guess medicine is traditional in my family - Mum and Dad are both Doctors - but just like Sunny, I'm here because I want to be, not because my Asian parents want me to be," says Yoshi softly, giving me a smile which I gratefully return. He always has my back.

"I'm just like Lenny; another non-Asian sheep who hails from a family of medics," says Veronica. "My Dad's a GP and my older brother Patrick is also studying medicine - he's in his fifth year at Edinburgh."

"Doesn't anyone else have families who aren't full of physicians?" I ask, feeling outnumbered by all these generational students.

"Me," replies Al. "Mum's a sports journalist and Dad…Dad's a sort of policeman, I suppose."

"Sort of?"

"Well, he's more involved in criminal intelligence than catching burglars, I think."

"Ooh! MI5 stuff?" Claire asks, her eyes wide.

Al shrugs. "I guess. I'm not really sure."

"You mean you don't know what your Dad does?" Leonard asks, sounding incredulous.

Yoshi immediately jumps to Al's defence. "How's he supposed to know the details, Lenbot? His Dad probably had to sign the Home Office Official Secrets Act or something, and I bet he's forbidden from discussing cases outside of work."

"True. Must be a bit like having James Bond as your father," laughs Leonard. "How does your Dad prefer his Martini, Al?"

Al looks completely lost. "Pardon?"

"You know, 'shaken or stirred'? 'The name's Bond. James Bond'? Agent double-oh-seven…oh you haven't a clue, have you?" Leonard trails off, seemingly shocked by this gap in Al's knowledge. "I can't believe you've never heard of him! Where have you been? You have to watch the films some time!"

"Yeah, I don't really watch TV," replies Al smoothly, his features now inscrutable. "Anyway, my parents aren't Doctors."

"I'm glad I'm not the only one," I butt in, wanting to alleviate Al's obvious discomfort by getting the conversation back on track. "Anyone else?"

"I'm the first person in our family to study medicine," says Judith. "Mum's a secondary school physics teacher and my Dad…well, he was a molecular biologist."

Oh bollocks. Having extracted one friend from a conversation chasm, I've immediately thrown another one in. Saffron and I exchange a pensive glance. We both understand why Judith is referring to her father's career in the past tense, but the others probably don't. Veronica, however, seems to have read correctly between the lines.

"Did your father inspire you to do medicine?" she asks. "I know losing my Mum to breast cancer when I was young influenced me in quite a number of ways."

"Yeah, I guess he sort of did," replies Judith quietly after a pause. "I'm sorry to hear that you've lost a parent too. It's hard to rationalise some days, right? How old were you when your Mum passed away?"

"Six," replies Veronica shortly. "Dad raised all three of us by himself. So much for Black fathers being uneducated and absent."

Claire shifts uncomfortably in her seat at the mention of stereotypy once again, and I'm engulfed by a wave of remorse and sympathy for her, even though she brought it on herself by prying into my family's business to start with.

As Veronica and Judith delve further into a conversation between themselves, and Yoshi and Al begin to discuss something obscure, I decide to be the bigger person for once and extend an apologetic hand of friendship to Claire. Even though it's not particularly graciously received, it does assuage my guilt slightly.

*****

Lunchtime passes rapidly, and is immediately proceeded by a neurobiology seminar on human behaviour delivered by a very soporific professor in a stuffy lecture theatre, causing quite a few of us to fall into a doze. It's almost a relief to get outside into the dry, cold air at home time. I'm just fastening my coat as I walk down the narrow path towards Pembroke Street when, to my surprise, I'm unexpectedly accosted.

"Sunny? Sunita? I thought it was you! Hey, how's your week been?"

Oh fuck.

I've done such an amazing job at avoiding Paul in college all week, and he catches me here, just metres away from the department of neuroscience? Universe, you have got to be shitting me.

I pause and give him a weak smile. "Hi Paul. What a surprise, bumping into you here."

He grins back, showing even white incisors and pronounced canines. Coupled with his inquisitive gaze, it gives him a slightly sinister look. "It shouldn't be that surprising, Sunny. The faculty of Geography is only over there. Did you not realise?"

Paul turns and points to the large sand-coloured building behind him.

"Oh. I never thought about where it was," I reply lamely.

"I've missed seeing you around in college," he says lightly, an unreadable expression on his face. "Thought I might catch you at the bar this week, but I guess you must have been busy, like you said you would be. Saw Gabriela on Wednesday; she said she'd not seen you for days."

"Hmm," I reply. "That's probably because I've been in the library such a lot. It's been a crazy week with loads of essays due; you know how it is. Anyway, I better be off. Got work to do."

I begin walking again, only to almost collide with him. To my horror, he is now blocking my route. Okay brain, stop panicking and start thinking.

"Wait! Where are you off to?" He's still smiling, but it's forced and it sends a little chill ricocheting along my spine

"Oh, I've got to get back to college and…err…write up some notes," I babble uneasily. "Jotted them down in a hurry and I have to write them out more neatly before I forget what the seminar was about. My writing is terrible."

That does not sound in any way plausible. Yet Paul seems to buy it. Except…

"Great! I was going to suggest going for a drink as it's Friday and all, but I'll walk back to college with you instead, if that's okay?"

No. It's not okay. How do I shake him off?

"Oh no, you should go and get a drink if that's what you were planning originally," I nod vigorously, trying to squeeze past him, and wishing desperately I'd been able to cycle in this morning. I couldn't, thanks to a stupid chain failure which exceeded my bike-mending capability, even with WikiHow assistance.

Paul is resolute in his stance. I can't quite get past and physically, I cannot shift him. And now I'm positioned alongside him, feeling distinctly uncomfortable.

Fuck.

"I meant going for a drink with you, silly," he says, reaching out a curled finger to lightly graze my cheek as my skin quivers, icy-cold beneath it. "I'm not going drinking on my own!"

"I've really got to go and do some work."

"That's fine; I just want to talk to you. I mean," he chuckles, "I consider you practically my girlfriend now! Surely you can spare a moment?"

His girlfriend?

Paul's finger runs down the side of my face and along my neck. His other hand snakes around my wrist. I'm trapped, frozen under his touch.

"Paul…I'm not…"

"We've kissed twice now. I really like you. I figure you must feel the same way. Why would you kiss me twice if you didn't?"

His tone is somewhere between pleading and demanding.

Just what the fuck have I got myself into? Have I led him on? I must have. Shit. Shit. This is all my fault. How the fuck do I fix it?

"Paul, please," I begin, in the throes of panic. "Could we talk about this another time perhaps…"

I'm interrupted by the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps and my heart leaps at the unexpectedly welcome sight of a familiar, tall and messy-haired figure.

"Sunny! There you are," says Al, slightly out of breath as though he's sprinted the full length of Pembroke Street in an attempt to beat Usain Bolt's record. "I've been looking for you everywhere! Have you forgotten? We're supposed to be going through those Pathology practical notes together."

I have no idea what he's talking about, but instinct kicks in and tells me to play along with it. Anything to get me away from Paul, with his wandering hands and intimidating body-language.

Paul seems to turn rigid as he stares at Al, his eyes simmering with a dark ferocity. As soon as his fingers begin to relax their grip on my wrist, I pull away.

"Shit, Al, you're right; I forgot! I'm so sorry - I'll…I have to go, Paul. I promised Al…Well, see you around sometime. Excuse me," I add, as I start to push my way past, Al's presence filling me with the courage to escape. Not wanting to hang around, I speed-march off, taking absolutely no notice of my direction of travel, and praying that Paul isn't following. I'm fairly sure he's not, but I glance anxiously over my shoulder anyway. Al keeps pace at my side, staring blankly ahead. As soon as I'm sure we're out of Paul's sight and earshot, I stop.

"Al, I don't know where you appeared from, but you are a fucking angel," I say, exhaling with relief and exertion. "I couldn't get rid of him. But what the Hell was that about a Pathology practical? Have I arranged something and completely forgotten about it?" My words flow out in a torrent of worry and self-doubt. Was I supposed to be elsewhere right now?

"It was obvious you needed an excuse to leave. Are you okay? Who the fuck is that creep? He looks vaguely familiar; I must have seen him around."

I hide my face in shame. "Paul," I reply in a small voice.

"That's Paul? As in the guy who you went out with last week? The one you'd choose exam failure over, rather than dating him again?"

"Yep. That's the badger."

"Wow. He was being very…intense."

"Yeah. I think he's reading more into things than he should. He seems to think I'm his girlfriend, for some bizarre reason," I say incredulously, trying to hide my guilt.

"Girlfriend? Oh. Have you told him you're not interested?"

"Well…not exactly. I tried to hint."

"I think he might need it spelling out. We guys don't always notice subtle messages."

"You might be right."

"I mostly am."

"What am I supposed to do now?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I can't go back to college for a while, seeing as I'm supposed to be working on an emergency Pathology project, can I?"

"Oh. Go and grab a coffee instead? Then wander back to college in half an hour. That'll make it look convincing."

"Yes I could do, I suppose," I reply, my heart sinking in disappointment. The way Al suggests coffee makes it seem as though I should amuse myself for a while because his job here is done. I was hoping he might want to join me. Honestly, I could really do with some company right now. Maybe I should pluck up the balls to ask Al instead of waiting for him to offer? The worst he can say is 'No'.

What if Al says 'No'?

I might just cry a little inside.

And outside.

But if I don't ask, I don't get.

The agony.

Taking a deep breath and preparing myself for rejection, I brave it. "Al?"

"Hmm?"

"You know, if you're not busy, and you've got nothing better to do, you wouldn't like to…coffee, maybe? No, you've probably got much better things to do, I expect…sorry, I…"

Al cuts through my verbal diarrhoea.

"Coffee would be great. Where do you fancy going?"

"Not sure," I reply, a mixture of surprise, elation and relief at this positive response. "How about the bus-stop cafe? Or maybe Pembroke?"

"How do you fancy a visit to the zoology museum refectory?"

"There's a refectory in the zoology museum?"

"I only discovered it recently. Try it. It's surprisingly relaxing in there, sipping coffee in the company of skeletons. Make no bones about it."

I'm sure this boy only suggested the zoology museum so he could use that line. "You're so humerus, Al," I groan, giving him a friendly punch on the arm. "Anyway, I'm sold. Let's go."