It's the last Friday in February and it's absolutely bucketing it down. Clearly, the weather is staunchly upholding its British winter reputation today. There is simply no comfortable way to make it into University this morning; even if I took a taxi, I'd have to walk part of the journey and get drenched. Not for the first time, I wish human teleportation was a thing. A 'duvet day' seems an extremely tempting option compared to battling the deluge, but that's not the way to do well and pass exams. Sighing, I slip into my cheap waterproof jacket and pray there aren't any leaks in it.

I'm a little bit later than usual as I'm walking instead of cycling (there's a time and a place for a sopping wet arse on a saddle and this is not it), but I still manage to beat Saffron and Leonard in to lectures. Veronica, who happens to be occupying Saffron's seat again, is poring over a book with Judith. To my astonishment, Al isn't sitting in what has become his usual position. Instead, he's seated a number of rows ahead next to Orla, his turbulent raven head contrasting starkly with her immaculate gold. Just as I remove my dripping wet coat and hang it on the back of my seat, Al turns around. I give him a wave and a quizzical look, at which he shrugs, silently mouths the word "sorry", and pulls a melancholy face.

Orla doesn't deign to grace me with a glance. Instead, she stares straight ahead towards the whiteboard at the front of the auditorium, her long hair draped like a satin sheen over her shoulders; surprisingly dry-looking considering there's an apocalyptic monsoon going on outside.

Curious as to what has prompted this sad change of heart, and fairly certain that Yoshi will have answers, I lean over my desk and prod him between his shoulder blades, causing him to yelp and scowl at me.

"Hey! What was that for?"

"Oh come off it, I hardly touched you," I reply, rolling my eyes at his dramatic response. "Why's Al not sitting with us?"

"Ah," he replies, and turns around again.

"Yoshi!" I hiss.

"What? I'm trying to revise."

"Oh knock it off; exams aren't for ages yet. Why is Al sitting down there with Orla?"

"It's nothing. I'll tell you later."

"Nothing? Wait. What did I do?"

"Who says you have anything to do with it?"

"Do I?"

"Later."

"Now."

"No."

Recognising defeat, I roll my eyes and change the subject. "Where's Lenny? He's usually here by now."

Yoshi shrugs as he hunches over his desk, as though seeking protection from whatever book he's trying to memorise. "Dunno."

And that's that. It's easier to get blood out of a stone than information out of Yoshi some days, unless you want to know the origin or insertion point of some virtually-unheard-of anatomical part. Then he's all talk.

Sighing in frustration, I give up and turn my attention sideways. "Jude?"

"Yes, love?"

"Saff's late, even by her standards. Is she not coming?"

"Haven't heard anything. I'll check and see if she's sent me any messages." Judith frowns, scrolling through her phone. "Nope. Nothing."

"She's not messaged me either. I wonder if the weather has put her off? Ronnie, has Saff said anything to you?"

"Not a word."

"It's a mystery."

"A mystery involving Lenny, by the looks of things as he's not here yet either."

"They have been quite close recently and come to think of it, I haven't seen Lenny drool over India for a while."

"I saw them in Sainsbury's together the other day."

"Who; Lenny and India?"

"No, Lenny and Saffron!"

"Ooh! Tell me more!"

At that moment, our oncology lecturer takes her place at the lectern and gives us all a stern glare, which effectively puts a halt to any further conversation between us for the next fifty minutes.

Seven minutes prior to the start of our next lecture, just as I'm about to seize an opportunity to force some information out of Yoshi, someone shuffles their way onto the spare seat next to me and emits a bland sort of whimper.

I turn sideways to see a very bedraggled, entirely the worse for wear, and extremely bilious-looking Saffron, who is making faint gulping noises and clutching an open can of Coca-Cola. She tentatively places the can on the desk in front of her and peers at me through gummy purple lids.

"How lovely of you to join us, darling. Oh blimey Saff, you look a bit…grim. Are you okay?"

"Just…don't talk to me," Saffron manages to croak before slapping a palm over her mouth. "Fuck. Think I'm gonna…"

With that, she makes an almighty dash for the exit as I veer away in horror.

"Some medic you are, Sunny," laughs Veronica. "Terrified of a bit of vomit."

"She looked fit to spew a tsunami, not just a 'bit of vomit', poor woman!"

"Self inflicted, no doubt," says Judith disapprovingly, looking straight at me. "Honestly, some of you never learn."

"Don't look at me, Jude!" I retort. "I think you should withdraw that accusation immediately! I'll have you know I'm sappily hober these days."

"Very clever. Let me refer you to an incident which occurred on the fourteenth of February," Judith begins primly.

"Yes, yes, okay; and I haven't consumed a drop since! Anyway, it's not as if you don't drink, Jude. Don't be so sanctimonious."

Just then, the main entrance door creaks open again, distracting us from our petty exchange. It's almost time for the next lecture to start and my first assumption is that Saffron has returned after…well, after doing whatever it is she had to do. Hurl, probably. Anyway, it's not Saffron. Leonard - an excessively bright and breezy Leonard - skips jauntily down the aisle steps to slide in surprisingly gracefully next to Yoshi, who wrinkles his nose and backs away rapidly.

"Christ on a bike, Lenbot. You REEK of booze!"

"It would appear that Saffron Olivia Hudson Magellan cannot drink me under the table," says Leonard proudly, reaching into his satchel and extracting his pharmacology course handbook with a flourish.

"Well, that's hardly surprising," says Veronica drily. "You must be double Saffron's size."

"That's neither here nor there, petit parfait," replies Leonard. "She claimed she could outdrink me with ease. Bet an entire term's volume of beer on it too. Which is going to come in handy now that father has slashed my weekly allowance in half."

"Oh no," says Yoshi, faking concern in what is possibly the worst posh accent I have ever heard in my life. "No more Michelin star dining for you this term, then. Why, pray, is Daddy being so mean?"

"Exam term's coming up," sighs Leonard. "My dear control-freak papa thinks the only way I can be trusted to pass is if I've got no money to spend on socialising. No wonder my mum left him."

"If Saffron dies from alcohol poisoning, bang goes that arrangement," reprimands Judith. "She looked terrible just now."

"I told her to stay in bed," says Leonard gleefully, before clapping a hand over his mouth as we all put two and two together to stare at him avidly. "What I mean is, I messaged her to say she should probably stay in bed as she messaged me first to say how rough she felt and…and…"

"Lenny?" I murmur sweetly. "Is there something you want to tell us?"

He stares at me anxiously and takes a fearful gulp. "No?"

"Try again, Lenster."

"We're not…I'm not saying anything! Hey, where's Al, by the way?"

"Sitting with Orla. So, Lennykins, back to Saff…"

"I'm a gentleman. My lips are sealed."

"Well that's an admission of guilt if ever I heard one," replies Veronica smoothly.

*****

There's no further opportunity to squeeze gossip out of either Yoshi or Leonard after lectures as they both make a beeline for the exit as soon as our third lecturer of the morning switches off their microphone. Al doesn't offer any explanation for his sudden change of seating arrangement either. Instead, he maintains a bland expression as he trudges quietly past our row on his way out, Orla keeping pace at his side.

"What are you two doing for lunch?" I ask, turning to face Veronica and Judith, both of whom are packing up the last of their things.

"Grabbing a quick bite from Sainsbury's on my way back to college," says Judith, stuffing her file into her bag and fastening the flap. "I've got a triathlon committee meeting at one and a neuroanatomy supervision after that."

"I haven't decided yet," replies Veronica, "but it's probably still pissing it down so I think I'll go back to college and chill out in my room for a bit. I've got the afternoon off and I could use a nap before going out drinking this evening."

"Oh," I reply lamely, feeling like a bit of a Sunita-no-mates. "No worries. I'll see you tomorrow, then."

"Unlikely," laughs Veronica, already half-way up the steps to the exit. "Tomorrow's Saturday, remember?"

"So it is," I reply, feeling rather stupid. "All the days seem to blend into one at the moment."

"Have a lovely weekend, Sunny," says Judith with a warm smile, giving my shoulder a quick squeeze as she passes my seat. "See you bright and early on Monday."

"You too, Jude."

Glumly, I peel my still-sodden jacket from the back of my seat and struggle into it. By now, the sleeves are cold and horribly damp inside. Outside, it's still raining with ferocity, and as I trudge along the glossy pavements of Cambridge, I get the distinct impression that the dense grey clouds are shadowing me. Sullenly, I mull over what I might have done to offend Al and Orla, and what it was that Yoshi wouldn't reveal. What a disappointing morning. At least once I get to the safe haven of St John's college and my cosy room, nothing else can piss me off today, right?

Thirty minutes later, fresh from a hot shower and snug in dry clothes, I fish this morning's lecture notes out of my school-bag and place them on my desk, intending to rewrite them in a legible form before this evening. It's nearly one o'clock, and my stomach gives a rumble, reminding me that hours have passed since I last supplied it with nourishment. I fear it's heading for a disappointment; the only item remaining in my cupboard is a minestrone cup-a-soup sachet, which hardly constitutes food. Unfortunately, it's that or nothing. I haven't the motivation to visit the refectory right now.

I'm halfway between my room and the kitchenette, lost in my own thoughts in the dark-panelled corridor, when the unexpected sound of a familiar voice stops me dead in my tracks.

"Hey Sunita."

There's a sensation of cold water trickling down my back as I whip around. Just how the fuck does Paul know which corridor I live on, and why is he here now? It's almost a whole month since that God-awful date and I honestly thought (or hoped) he'd given up any notion of us getting together.

"What are you doing here?"

"I came to find you. To talk." Paul spreads his arms wide in a supposedly harmless gesture. Yet all I can think of is that creepily-uttered line from a poem that goes 'come into my parlour said the spider to the fly', and fuck do I feel like that fly caught in Paul's bizarre web right now.

There's no-one else around and after the last time Paul found me when I was alone, it makes me nervous. I don't like the way this corridor echoes, or the strangely menacing stare of Paul's hazel eyes as he advances. My brain is going into hyperdrive as all sorts of terrible consequences twist in my mind.

"Just to talk?" I ask, nervously glancing at his knees, because staring at any other part of him might be construed as an invitation of sorts. "What about?"

"I'd like an explanation." His voice lilts playfully, but I can detect a sinister undertone and it does nothing for my confidence whatsoever.

"An explanation? What for?"

"Well, let's see. You snogged me twice, we dated, it was fun…and I get that you're a medic and you're far busier and better than us mere mortals who are studying inferior degrees, but…"

"What the fuck are you insinuating?"

"Stop being so up yourself. You're not that special, just because you're studying medicine."

"Jesus Fucking Christ, I never said I was!" I cry, enraged. "Paul, you know what? Just fuck off. I'm not interested."

"Yeah, and you could have had the decency to tell me that to start with, and not keep pretending. Honestly, you're just a fucking dick-tease. I like you. Well, I did like you."

"Oh, for fuck's sake! Look, I think you read more into it than you should have," I retort defensively, letting my anger override the guilt, "but that's not my fault."

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice that Aveline's bedroom door is ajar; the sliver of light giving me comfort that I'm not alone with Paul. Even Aveline 'I snogged Sunita's Jonty' Proctor is better than nobody. Emboldened, I square my shoulders, preparing to stand my ground.

Paul hasn't finished ranting. "You shouldn't have let me think you were interested. Why did you - was your ego in need of gratification or something? Sexually frustrated and desperate for a snog perhaps?"

"How dare you!" I snap back furiously. "Look who's desperate now; did you really go to the trouble of finding out where my room is just to get all self-righteous at me? Anyway, who told you my room number?"

"None of your business."

"It's very much my business, Paul. I don't take kindly to being stalked."

"Oh come off it," he howls with mocking laughter. "Who in their right mind would want to stalk you? Fucking Hell, you're so full of your own importance."

"Well if I am, why don't you just fuck off and leave me alone, then?"

He glares at me for a moment and then turns his face away, presumably in readiness to leave. When he suddenly surges towards me, I'm taken by surprise, transfixed like an animal in torchlight. Instinctively, I squeeze my eyes shut and twist my head to the side, as though it helps if I don't watch what's about to happen.

"You're with him, aren't you?" Paul hisses, inches away from my face, flecks of warm saliva spattering my cheek. "I just know it!"

"Paul, what the Hell are you doing here?" Aveline's shocked, high-pitched voice rings along the corridor, and I take an inward breath in blessed relief as Paul takes a step back.

"Avi? Oh hi," says Paul in a perfectly normal manner, smiling politely as though he hasn't just launched himself at me with his fangs bared. "How are you?"

"Cut the crap, Paul. I'll ask you again. What are you doing up here?"

"Oh, just having a chat with Sunita, you know."

"It doesn't look or sound like a chat from here. Sunita, are you okay?"

"Mmm."

Paul suddenly seems to come to his senses. Amazing how the presence of another person renders him powerless and turns him into this harmless, pathetic being. Watching him shift uncomfortably under Aveline's gaze is, unsurprisingly, very satisfying after being on the receiving end of his ridiculous diatribe.

"Honestly, I just wanted to talk to her! Is that a crime these days?"

Aveline just stares at him disbelievingly, her arms crossed.

Unsettled, Paul shakes his head and diverts his attention back to me again. "Sunita, I don't want you to get hurt by this guy, that's all," he wheedles, all open-eyed innocence. "I really think you should steer clear. He's…not good for you."

"And you are? I'm not interested in hearing your fabrications, Paul."

"Well, I wouldn't hurt you, Sunita. Not like he could."

"Didn't fucking seem like that a minute ago."

Paul closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry, yeah? Believe it or not, I like you enough to worry about you. Just do me a favour and don't get involved with him."

"How I choose to live my life is none of your business, Paul. And why I should be doing you any 'favours' when you barge onto our corridor like that is anyone's guess."

"Look, I know I've messed up. Please…just."

"Give it a rest, Paul," interjects Aveline. "I think you better leave before I call security."

Paul's shoulders slump and his hazel eyes meet mine in one last beseeching glance. I avert my gaze, refusing to be drawn into any further conversation with him.

"Just go, for fuck's sake," snaps Aveline authoritatively.

After a brief pause, he gives an affronted snort, casts me a final suspicious glance and trudges away. I keep my eyes fixed on his retreating figure as he makes his way along the corridor, eventually turning left towards the end staircase and out of sight.

"You okay?" Aveline asks cautiously, as the sound of Paul's footsteps fade into nothing. Unused to this level of sympathy from my rival, I'm silent for a moment. All I can do is nod slowly.

"Paul's a complete creep," she says with feeling.

"Agreed."

"Sunita?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry for… you know. Jonty." A high, embarrassed laugh escapes Aveline's pouty lips. "I know you liked him and I shouldn't have…if it's any consolation, he was a crap snog."

"Forget it," I reply, dazed by the unexpected confession and apology. "He's a complete tosspot. Shame he's so pretty. One day, Karma will bite him on the ass, I'm sure."

"I think it already has. I heard his ex-girlfriend from home finally cottoned on to the fact that he's shagging around."

"Ex-girlfriend? Oh! What happened?"

"Leila Jarvis happened. She sent her a rather explicit TikTok featuring herself and Jonty in, errm, a rather compromising position. Apparently, it wasn't well-received."

I wince. "Cruel way for her to find out."

"It was, rather." Aveline frowns and rubs a finger along her upper lip in contemplation. There's a burning question on the tip of her tongue; I can tell from the way she's hanging around and studying the floor.

I raise an eyebrow. "What's up?"

She startles, obviously not expecting an invitation to enquire. "Oh, nothing really. I was just wondering, out of interest, you know… what was Paul actually going on about? Are you dating someone?"

Trust Aveline to find an ulterior motive to this conversation, just when I was considering warming to her. Briefly, I'm tempted to spin her some ridiculously golden yarn about Al, purely to revel in her envious reaction. However, that gloating phrase 'Sunita's Jonty' is still circling my mind and I decide to keep Mr Potter to myself for now. Besides, nothing has happened between us and realistically, is anything ever likely to occur anywhere except in my imagination?

"No, I'm not," I sigh eventually, truth triumphing over glorified lie. "Paul's obviously got his wires crossed."