Tuesday and Wednesday are spent in a delightful haze of crumpled sheets and shared showers, as though by permanently entangling ourselves together for a few days, we're denying the future any satisfaction from physically ripping us apart. We venture out for drinks with Al's friends on Wednesday evening, not getting blind drunk this time, electing to return to mine at a sensible hour instead.

But nothing, not even a whole night of mind-blowing, amazing sex, can really stave off the impending doom of Thursday morning, which hangs like a thunderous, results-laden cloud over the horizon.

My phone wakes me up at some ungodly hour with a text from Judith; she's planning to head to Senate House at eleven o'clock exactly. Apparently, that's when the University will be displaying the results for all and sundry to see. And before you remark that sundry couldn't possibly be interested in some silly student exam results, you'd be surprised; tourists simply love to stare at the baize-backed boards and peruse the standings, totally excited for complete strangers who have just been awarded firsts.

I'm not planning on being there at eleven. At that time in the morning, when it's peak jostling period, the place will be heaving with medical and veterinary students and a number of NatScis too. What if I've failed? It'll be bad enough if I break down in front of Al and my friends, but random people seeing me cry?

Umm, no thank you.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Al stirring slightly. "Hey Al?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you awake?"

"Mmm, sort of." He curls an arm around me and pulls me into his bare torso, nuzzling my ear with his nose. "Did you want anything?"

"Not really," I mumble, burying myself into the protective warmth of his chest and listening to the comforting rhythm of his heart. "I just wanted to know if you were still asleep. Would you like a cup of tea?"

"Oh, I'd love one," he sighs appreciatively.

"Brilliant! In that case, make me one as well, please," I quip, snuggling down under the duvet and pulling it right up to my nose, leaving him to ponder the logic of my answer.

There's a stifled groan and Al slowly extracts himself from my bed, stark naked, his dark hair in pillow-wrestled disarray. "If you're happy with me making tea like this," he gestures with a yawn to his bare body, "then I'm more than happy to go ahead."

I'm tempted to call his bluff, but I know full well he's bold enough to saunter into our shared kitchen in his birthday suit just to prove a point. And quite frankly, that deliciously sculpted body is for my eyes only. "Seriously, Al?" I warn him. "If our warden catches you making tea in the buff, he'll have a heart attack."

"That would be terribly sad," replies Al flippantly, one hand on the door handle.

"Oh for fuck's sake," I grumble, yanking on a t-shirt and my Snoopy pyjama pants, and shoving Al out of the way before he flashes the whole corridor and earns me a fine, or worse still, gets himself abducted and seduced by an amorous Aveline. "I'll make the sodding drinks."

"That would be amazing," replies Al, giving my arse a quick squeeze before promptly diving back into bed. "Have I ever told you how cute you look in those shorts, sweetheart?"

Git.

It's not difficult to pass time when you're me and you have a very delectable man in your bed, but by the time eleven o'clock rolls around, we both reluctantly concede that we should perhaps get up, make ourselves presentable and face the results music.

The first person we see when we arrive in front of Senate House's tall iron railings is Yoshi, who is looking supremely pleased with himself. He casts us both a beaming grin.

"Hey!" I say, glad to see him looking so happy. "How did you do?"

"Passed everything," he replies, clearly trying not to sound too smug.

"And?" I prompt. "You must have got a first, right?"

"Yeah." He gives a bashful little grin. "Needed a minimum of a two-one to go to Harvard, so it's a weight off my mind."

"That's brilliant!" I congratulate him, genuinely pleased. "Umm, did you happen to look at anyone else's results whilst you were there?"

"Erm, well, I saw yours," he admits to Al, holding out his fist for a bump. "Well done, dude."

"Oh! How come you looked for Al's but no-one else's?"

"I didn't! Not deliberately, anyway. Only noticed because 'Potter' isn't that far from 'Nakamura' on the register. Wasn't intending to be nosey."

"Mate, it doesn't bother me," says Al with a shrug. "Saves me going to look for myself."

Yoshi consults his watch, and frowns. "Shit, I better go. Got orchestra rehearsal in an hour."

"Hang on a sec," says Al. "Are you around this evening, or tomorrow? Maybe we could all meet up for a final drinks session before we depart for the summer?"

"That would have been great, but unfortunately, I can't," replies Yoshi apologetically. "I'm playing in a concert tonight and then going home tomorrow morning, because Mum and Dad are whisking me away to Tokyo on Sunday for a family wedding."

"Not yours, I trust?"

Yoshi laughs loudly. "I bloody hope not!"

"Well I guess this is it, then," says Al, clapping Yoshi on the shoulder. "Good luck with everything next year, and stay in touch. It's been an honour to meet you."

"Bye, Yoshi," I say, enveloping him in a hug. "Have a lovely summer and an amazing time in Japan and at Harvard. We'll miss you next year!"

"I'll miss you all too. Keep me posted with your news and I'll see you both at clinical school in fourth year. Looking forward to it!" With a grin and a wave, Yoshi departs, leaving Al and I standing alone outside the entrance to Senate House.

"Umm, let's go check the results board, then," says Al, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly, as though he's feeling uncomfortable about something. Maybe it's because he knows he's passed and I might not have? What if Yoshi did look for my name but couldn't find it because I've failed?

Ugh. Now I feel sick. Sick and dizzy. Panic is rising in waves, suffocating me as they close in. I'm drowning; I can't draw a breath, and I'm going to pass out…except I'm not, because Al is standing in front of me, trying to draw my attention.

"Sunny, look at me," says Al gently, tipping my chin up with a forefinger so that my gaze meets his. "Whatever happens, you'll be okay; understand?"

"But what if I've failed?" I squeak.

"I very much doubt it, but so what if you have? They're only exams, not life-threatening situations. I certainly won't think any less of you if the exams haven't gone your way, and neither should you. You can re-sit any modules in September and it'll all be forgotten about after that."

"I'm not good at coping with failure." My voice begins to wobble and Al pulls me close to tuck me into his chest.

"Failing an exam is not a reflection of you as a person, Sunny! And not everyone's going to pass first time, are they? If you haven't passed, you won't be on your own doing re-sits."

I know he's talking solid sense, but I can't quite bring myself to believe in his words. I know all the hard work has been done and there's no point in panicking now, because it won't change the outcome, but I can't seem to shake off this feeling of dread.

"Oh God, I can't face it, Al."

"Do you want me to check the board for you?"

"Ye…no; I'd rather go and see for myself. I don't think I'll be able to bear the sympathy. Although I'll probably be able to guess, because people always turn away from the list when someone who hasn't passed approaches," I ramble incoherently, thinking of this time last summer, when Oscar O'Brien's name wasn't on the list of MIMS results because he'd failed that module, and everyone either walked away or seemed unable to look the poor guy in the face; myself included.

"Just go and look," says Al quietly but firmly, obviously having reached the end of his dither-tolerance tether. "Get it over with. If you don't want me peering over your shoulder, I'll be right here, okay?"

Taking the hint, I step reluctantly through the gate and towards the Medical and Veterinary Sciences Tripos board, where reams of results glare white and menacing against a green felt background, and I steel myself for the worst.

"Well?" Al asks on my return, thumbs tucked into his jeans side-pockets, his expression fixed somewhere between expectant and unconcerned. "What's the verdict?"

I pause for a few seconds, deliberately keeping him in suspense, and gaze meekly at the ground. "I owe you fifty quid," I mumble.

"Speak up, sweetheart."

"I said, I owe you fifty pounds," I repeat a little more loudly, unable to stop a smile from creeping across my face.

"Yeah, I thought you would," he replies, kissing the top of my head. "Knew you'd be fine."

"Didn't I even fool you a little bit just now?" I ask, somewhat disappointed with my acting skills.

"Sunita Chandrakumar, I can read you like a book."

Instead of reacting and punching Al on the arm for his arrogance, as I would under any other circumstance, I let sheer elation take over. "Well, guess what? We all passed! Me, you, Jude, Saff, Ronnie, Lenny - and Yoshi, of course! And congratulations on getting a first, Al. I'm so proud of you."

His grin matches mine, and he momentarily lifts me up off the floor as we share a rather passionate kiss, not caring who's watching, nor whose path we are impeding. It's so intense that I never want the sweetness of this celebratory moment to end, but it does, and far sooner than I'm expecting, because Leonard, like a secret bloody missile, appears out of nowhereto swing his arms around mine and Al's shoulders, almost knocking us to the floor in his exuberance. "A two-one, Sunny!" he cries joyfully. "Not bad, not bad at all. Same as me, in fact."

"And Jude too," I reply, wriggling out from under his arm. "Yeah. I'm astounded to be honest. I was convinced pathology was a write-off. Al got a first, to no-one's surprise; not even his!"

"Clever little treacle-sponge, this one," grins Leonard, engulfing a rather exasperated-looking Al and ruffling his hair vigorously, somehow making no difference to it whatsoever. "Yoshi also got a first, but Ronnie only went and got a bloody starred first. Overachiever. Saff got a two-two and was pretty happy with that as she thought she'd completely fucked up MODA."

I vaguely remember Saffron's cheerfully dismissive "Oh well" immediately after the pharmacology multiple choice exam, indicating that it hadn't quite gone her way, leaving me enviously wishing I could channel some of her horizontal vibes.

"Are we doing a final drinks session before we all go home for the holidays?" Leonard asks, looking hopefully at us both. "It's Saff's birthday on Saturday, but we all need to vacate college accommodation on that day, so we thought we'd celebrate it on Friday instead. Please say you'll come. I'll ask Jude, Ronnie and Yoshi too."

"Yoshi's leaving on Friday morning," I reply, feeling a pang of sadness at the thought that our little group has already disbanded, "but Al and I will be around. Just let us know the time and the place, and we'll be there."

"Awesome! I'll WhatsApp everyone and let's make it a night to remember!" Leonard says brightly. "Better go - I said I'd meet Saff at twelve, and it's two minutes to already. See you both soon." And with a skip in his step, he proceeds jauntily towards the market square.

"Let's get some lunch," suggests Al, draping an arm across my shoulders. "What takes your fancy?"

"Oh, anything. Enzo's? We haven't been there for - uh - at least twenty-four hours. Or we could go to Yippee Noodle Bar for a change?"

"Either is fine by me. You decide."

"Yippee, then," I reply, decisively for once.

"Good choice. Noodles make miso happy."

"Oh, pho fuck's sake, Al."

We carry on bantering and giggling, arms around each other, delirious with happiness as we make our way across town to buy lunch. I'm determined not to let the one major worry that sits sullenly in the recesses of my mind blight our final days together, but it's difficult, because really, just how the Hell am I supposed to get through the whole of next year without Al?

Time, as it turns out for the remainder of this week, is not kind to us. Precious hours slip by like seconds, Friday is a whirlwind of friends and packing and goodbyes, but I somehow manage to share a civil moment with Orla who won't be here next year either.

I'm missing her already. Not.

Letting Al go is, by far, the hardest part of all. And he's already given me so much that it comes as a complete surprise on Saturday morning when, barely forty minutes before my Dad is due to arrive, he presents me with a small, beautifully-carved wooden box. At first I nearly have a panic attack, wondering if it's a ring and he's going to do something completely crazy like propose, but I come to my senses quite rapidly; it's slightly bigger than a ring box, and Al is not the hopeless, overly-imaginative romantic that I am. Cautiously, I open it, letting out a little gasp of wonder on seeing a bright metal circlet - a bracelet - sitting on a dark velvet bed.

I pick it up, feeling how weighty it is, and notice the intricate little red stones embedded in its surface. It's so beautifully and delicately crafted, it looks as though it can't possibly have been made by human hands.

"Fuck, Al; I can't accept this! It's gorgeous! And solid silver!"

"Silver and rubies actually. If you won't accept it, what am I supposed to do with it? It'll look bloody silly on me. Here - put it on." He takes it out of my fingers and slides the bracelet over my left hand and onto my wrist.

"It's stunning. More than stunning, actually. I don't have words, and I…I didn't get you anything," I whisper, guilt and regret and - oh fuck, tears - welling up within me.

Al takes my face in his hands and flashes his warmest smile. "You don't need to. You're more than enough."

"I still owe you fifty quid!" A tear begins to fall. He brushes it gently away with the ball of his thumb.

"Don't get so upset, sweetheart; I won't charge you interest."

"Idiot." I give him a watery smile. "Do you promise to ring me every day?"

"Every day?"

"Well, every day that you can. Obviously, if you're busy at work, or sunbathing in the Bahamas, or I phone you first, you're excused."

"Then I promise."

I glance at my watch and my abdomen gives a little lurch. "Bollocks, look at the time! Al, you have to go. My Dad said he'd be here at half-past ten, which means he'll be here by quarter past!"

"Yeah, I have to get a move on too. I'll call you later, okay?"

I touch my lips to his, softly and fleetingly, and then he's gone, leaving nothing but the faint traces of his aftershave and this band of jewelled silver around my wrist as a reminder that he was once here.

It's going to be so strange not having Al constantly at my side. I suppose that the summer holiday will be akin to some sort of pre-Peru training exercise in assessing how life is going to be without everyday Al Potter gracing it.

I'm under no illusions; it's going to be like trying to swim in treacle. Al is like the air to my life-jacket, and everyone knows I can barely stay afloat without one.

Dad shows up twenty minutes after Al has left. By eleven o'clock, my University life has been bundled into the back of our family car and I'm on my way back home to Rotherham.

Days grow slowly into weeks. I slot back into the mundane and occasionally temperamental existence of my home-life, leaving the fairytale of Cambridge far behind. I briefly catch up with three of my local friends - Katy, Aruna and Wojciech - and we sit around a café table for a couple of hours, politely feigning interest in each others' lives. Mum offers me a part-time desk job on Mondays and Thursdays in the hotel she manages, and I take it, for lack of anything better to do.

As promised, Al calls me almost daily. We make smalltalk, exchange news and laugh at stupid jokes, always giving the Peru elephant in the room a wide berth. There's been no opportunity for us to get together since we left University almost a month ago.

Then, out of the blue, he rings one Wednesday morning to tell me he's in Sheffield for the day.

"No! Really? How come?"

"It's a new weekly work thing," he replies happily, "and I've got a long lunch-break between twelve and half-past two. I just wondered if you'd like to meet up?"

"Why are you even wondering?" I say, almost breathless with joy. "Tell me where, and I'll be there!"

"According to a map of Sheffield, there's some kind of giant shopping place nearby. We could meet there, maybe?"

"Meadowhall? Yes, why not?" I babble, sheer exhilaration getting the better of me. "I'm guessing you don't know the layout of the place, and you'll probably be arriving by train or tram if you're coming from Sheffield, so how about meeting up outside the Interchange, near the entrance to Marks and Spencer's? It's relatively easy to find. Oh my God, Al, I'm so excited; you've made my day!"

He laughs, and it's like music to my ears. "I'll find it, don't worry. I can't wait to see you."

"I bloody can't wait to see you, either!"

The next few hours pass ridiculously slowly. Dad and Mum are both at work so I'm unable to borrow the car, but there's a bus at eleven o'clock from here to Meadowhall. Due to my paranoia at missing it, I stand and fidget at the bus-stop for a whole twenty-five minutes before it turns up, exactly on time, and then I spend the entire bus journey quietly swearing at the traffic, at red traffic lights, and hapless pedestrians, all of whom seem to be conspiring to shorten my valuable time with Al.

I spot him almost immediately on arrival.

"Al!" I fling my arms around his neck, overjoyed to see him. "I can't believe you're actually here! I've missed you so much!"

"I've missed you too, sweetheart. I can only stay for a couple of hours," he murmurs ruefully, after we've finished snogging each other senseless, much to the relief of a few shoppers trying to get in and out of the fancy liquor shop beside us, quaintly named Wee Dram. "I'm on a break between now and half-past two, but I'll have to leave just after two."

"I understand. What about after that?"

"Have to go straight back to London for work tomorrow."

"Oh. Well then, you better eat something," I reply, immediately towing him in the direction of the Oasis, which is the central dining area of the shopping precinct.

"How did you get here?" he asks.

"Took the bus. How was your holiday, by the way?"

"It was okay. Dad always insists on going somewhere rural and isolated, so we can bond as a family. You know, the usual shit," says Al, rolling his eyes, "so there wasn't much to do whilst we were there, but we went walking across the moors and along the beaches, and found a few nice village pubs, and visited York twice. Dad kept going on about how nice it was to have the whole family together again, and Mum was just glad we weren't staying in a caravan, because she'd hated it last time."

"Your Dad sounds quite sweet."

"He is, I suppose. Tells the worst Dad jokes though."

An idea strikes me and I make a tentative suggestion. "You know, Al, if you're working in London and staying at your parents' flat, maybe I could come and visit sometime?"

For some reason, Al stops and looks momentarily alarmed, but then a strange, almost apologetic expression crosses his face. "Oh Sunny, I wish you could," he murmurs softly, caressing my cheek with a tender fingertip. "Unfortunately, you…can't. My parents…they don't know about our relationship, just like yours aren't aware of us, either."

"But I thought your parents lived somewhere west of London?" I ask, narrowing my eyes in confusion. "So they won't be anywhere near the flat, then."

"Yeah, no, well, they're not there much, but they drop in unexpectedly from time to time and check up on how I'm doing. Dad works in the city too, so he sometimes stays over, or has lunch there."

"Are you planning on telling your parents about me? If you told them, perhaps I could come and visit," I ask, before hastily adding a proviso. "Only if they wouldn't mind, obviously."

"Yeah, of course, at some point. It's a bit of a…delicate situation which I'm not at liberty to explain right now. I mean, there's no urgency, is there?" Al takes my hand in his. "It's not as though you've told your parents about having a boyfriend either."

"I guess not," I reply, a bit disappointed. I mean, Al knows the reason I haven't told my parents yet (i.e. they'll go off their rockers), but he doesn't seem to be giving me a valid explanation as to why he can't tell his. If I'm being honest, it makes me feel as though he's not taking our relationship seriously.

A thought crosses my mind, based on Aruna's unfortunate recent experience with the family of her current boyfriend.

"Al?"

"Hmm?"

"Is it because…I…would your parents be bothered about the fact I'm not white?" I blurt in a rush.

"Fucking Hell, no! They couldn't give a shit about skin colour, or religion, or anything like that. It's just…"

"Oh," I exhale, relief tinged with embarrassment at having broached the subject. "Well, is it something to do with your Dad working for the Secret Service, then?"

"Something like that, yeah."

"That's a shame," I sigh. "I was kind of hoping I'd be able to meet your family at some point. They sound fun."

"Well, like I said, there's plenty of time for that. We don't have to leap headlong into anything, surely?"

"No, but…" I pause, feeling rather rejected, yet not wanting to pursue an argument with Al in the middle of Meadowhall when we've now got less than two hours together and I'll have to wait a whole week before I can see him again. "You know what, you're right. Let's enjoy what we have for now."

We sit down in The Oasis and munch our way through a portion of chips and share a chocolate cheesecake, then wander around the precinct hand-in-hand; talking and laughing and stealing occasional kisses. For a blissful hour-and-a-half, if we shut our eyes and ignore the babel of northern accents around us, we could almost be back in Cambridge.

But all too soon, Al has to return to work, and I'm left alone with my thoughts for company on the bus-ride home.

And a lonely Sunita left to her own devices on public transport, with lots of musings on her plate, tends to find her mind wandering down all sorts of suspicious avenues.

There's something I can't quite put my finger on. Something about this situation seems a bit off; bizarre, even. It's almost as though there's something significant, something shattering he's just not telling me.

Then, as the bus jolts over a bump in the road and brings me back to reality, I shake the silly ideas out of my head, admonishing myself for being so insecure. Al and I; we're as solid as it gets, right? He'd tell me if there was anything to worry about. After all, we agreed; we wouldn't keep secrets from each other.