I wonder if you can tell if someone is thinking about you? Does your ear burn? Do you feel a palpitation in your heart that causes you to stop for a second to make sure it isn't heartburn or something like that?

      Maybe it's the way he glances my way. Every now and then I catch him looking up from his bowl and I get this excited feeling in my stomach. I shouldn't think this because I always romanticize experiences with nice guys. That's just my daily fantasy. An attractive guy shows me a shred of kindness and we're basically getting married in my head. I can't tell you how many husbands I have had – a random guy offers me his seat on the bus and we're honeymooning in Paris with two adopted kids by the time I reach my stop.

      I stop myself from imagining a life with Daxten. We didn't get on right away, which isn't usually a good sign. We are from two different worlds and I'm sure he's straight, all the guys I fall for are. Well, apart from Nick. I fell for him but that was my own stupid fault.

      The only reason Daxten is paying for dinner is because he feels sorry for me. I also have a feeling he's kinda lonely. I want to know more about him. I want to know more about his father. I want to know why he doesn't like Christmas.

      My head is feeling a little light from the wine. I know I should stop but I don't want to waste Daxten's generosity, so I finish my glass.

      'Would you like some more?' He asks.

      I shake my head. 'If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were trying to get my drunk.'

      He finishes his own glass. 'Maybe I am.'

      Okay, so he might be straight, but he's very flirtatious. It's okay to flirt. Flirting is harmless. Maybe this is the start of a bromance. I've never had one of those before, but I assume it's just two guys being affectionate without the intimacy. I can do that, assuming he wants to be friends, of course.

      Who am I kidding? He's buying me lunch – we have to be friends now.

      He raises an eyebrow. 'Care for some dessert?'

      I don't want to push my luck and have him spend more money on me. I also don't want to decline, but before I can even speak, a woman's voice from the speaker system interrupts me.

      'Flight 143 to New York has been cleared to depart in half an hour. Boarding for first class will begin in fifteen minutes.'

      'Fifteen minutes?' I shout. It comes out louder than I wanted it to. I also didn't mean to sound so disappointed. I try to recover by turning my sour face into one of relief. 'Well, they cleared the runway quickly.'

      I look past Daxten and through the restaurant windows to the scene outside. I didn't notice the snow has stopped falling; I was too busy looking at something else. Someone else.

      Daxten's expression doesn't change that much. Just as I start to think we've made progress, I return to that feeling I had when I first sat with him in the coffee shop. I feel like a stranger again.

      He looks at his watch. 'Fifteen minutes – do you think we have time to make a quick stop? I forgot to get some gifts and I saw a store next door.'

      I nod enthusiastically. 'Yes!' I tone my voice down. 'That sounds fine. I mean, I don't have to board in fifteen minutes.'

      This is where I get silly again. I knew he would have a first-class ticket. I knew he wouldn't be sitting in economy. I definitely knew I wouldn't be lucky enough to have him sitting right next to me for the eleven-hour flight. With the sudden clock over our heads, I can't help but feel gutted that our time together is almost up. I could have done with a little more time to get to know him and maybe he would like me more. I just need a chance.

      I have fifteen minutes. I have to make it count.

      He asks for the bill and the waitress brings it over in a small silver dish. He barely looks at the receipt before he puts more than enough cash in it. I want to leave something too, so I put the last of my coins onto the dish. Daxten looks as I do it. 'My little way of saying thank you,' I explain and throw my backpack over my shoulders.

      We leave the restaurant and he takes the lead. 'It's just right here.' He keeps close to me even when I start to lag behind a little.

      'Who are you buying for?' I ask.

      He moves out of the way so I can see into the shop window. The first store we come across is a pet store. I'm about to walk past when he stops. I stop with him.

      'My cats,' he tells me as he walks through the door. He turns to smile at me, knowing that wasn't the answer I was expecting.

      His cats? Oh my God, marry me.

      We are welcomed to the scent of dried dog food – a smell I'm all too familiar with. I'm also surprised to see a pet store in an airport. Not a lot of people are browsing so business can't be too good. I don't know a lot of people who go abroad and bring things back for their pets, though they should. Pets are family, right? I don't have pets but that's how I look at it.

      'You have cats...' I note, watching as he looks for the cat section. He follows an empty aisle all the way down.

      'Does that surprise you?'

      'A little, you don't strike me as a pussy person,' I say. I realize what that sounds like and it's too late for me to take it back. I almost throw my hands to my mouth but there's no point.

      He looks at me with a devilish grin. He knows I've put my foot in it – again – but he seems to enjoy the accidental double-entendre. 'I like both – cats and dogs. I don't really have a preference over the other. I own two cats – Copper and Nala. They're like my children. I FaceTime with them every day.'

      I don't judge. 'Do they ever respond to you when you're FaceTiming them?'

      He laughs and throws me a look. 'Of course not! It gives me peace of mind to see them. I left them in the care of one of my cousins. I worry every now and then that they haven't been fed or that he's left them outside.'

      'It's sweet that you care so much about them.'

      'Do you have any pets?'

      I shake my head as we come to a stop at the cat's section. 'No, but I used to care for them a lot. My uncle is a vet and I would help him out as his assistant. It's a small veterinary practice that he basically runs himself so he takes all the help he can get.'

      'And that is sweet of you.'

      He pulls down a couple of matching squeak toys. 'Do you think they'll like these? I have to get them the same or they'll just fight over them.'

      Not that I know, but I nod anyway. 'They'll love them.'

      He smiles with satisfaction. It's the first smile where he's shown teeth. Is he showing me a side of him that exposes his real character? An hour ago, he was so reserved that I couldn't tell if he liked or despised me. Now? He seems like the most charming guy in the world. What changed? Was it the wine?

      He buys the toys and we leave the store. I look up at him. I'm trying to read him again. I notice he's taller than me, perhaps a little over six foot, and he walks with such precision that I look like I'm a walking, drunken menace next to him. I try to mimic his walk though my backpack makes it hard to do so. His eyes are veiled by a shadow.

      'Flight 143 is now boarding first class. Please have your boarding passes ready.'

      The voice sticks a pin in me again. Gate 11 isn't far and my heart feels like it's being stood on with every step I take towards it. He takes his boarding pass out of his jacket pocket and looks at me.

      'It's a shame you're not in the next suite as me,' he says.

      'Suite?! Just what kind of fancy first class cabin is it?'

      He laughs. I'm sure my bafflement at a 'suite' on a plane is laughable to someone who uses them all the time. I'm lucky to get a dry seat never mind a full-on suite.

      'Ah,' a voice says from behind us. We turn around. Daxten looks curious as to who the speaker is while I already know who it is. I turn with hesitation. 'There you are, Brando.'

      'Nick.' I reply flatly.

      'Are you going to introduce me to your new friend?'

      Daxten looks down to me when I don't respond. 'I'm Daxten.'

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