"Oh, hi! I didn't recognise you at first with your clothes on!"

This is the first thing Ric's friend Tom says to me when he's introduced. This sends me into an immediate panic.

Thankfully, it turns out he'd actually been one of the folk to witness my half-naked streak across the flat three weeks previously. In the second or two it takes for him to clarify that point, I experience momentary horror that I've had a one-night-stand I've somehow completely forgotten about.

And remember the girl who was in Ric's room on the day I came to view the flat? Well, she just so happens to be the only other girl at the table, so I'm initially feeling a tad antsy about that too. I mean, I know this little crush I have is moderate at most, but if she is still on the scene I don't want her to think I'm after her man!

But Beth seems perfectly lovely, and Ric introduces her as his "longest serving friend", which implies I've probably misunderstood the nature of their relationship.

"Longest suffering friend is probably more appropriate. I know all his secrets," she adds, winking at me. "Hit me up if you want me to spill."

"Beth," he says warningly, and she laughs warmly.

"You know my loyalty lies with you," she replies, flashing a grin in his direction.

The other two guys present are Mitch and Eddie. "So you're the one who convinced Ric to change our quiz team name?" Mitch-or-Eddie grumbles. "I loved being The Cunning Linguists."

Ric sighs. "For the last time, Mitch, the name doesn't attract the ladies as much as you seem to think it does."

Beth shakes her head at Mitch, backing Ric up. "And I've yet to see you pull anyone at the pub quiz." Dramatic pause. "Now that I think about it, I've yet to see you pull anyone anywhere."

"Whatever," he mumbles, as Ric writes Quizzery Loves Company at the top of the first sheet of paper. His handwriting is surprisingly neat and precise. "I liked the old name."

Mitch is my least favourite of the group so far.

"So how are you finding living with Ric?" Beth asks me. The quiz host is setting up, and Ric and the other guys have wandered over to the bar to get the drinks in. "Is he driving you insane?"

"He is," I confirm, before slightly re-thinking my stance. "Well, he was . . . But it's actually not been so bad for the past couple of weeks. Maybe I'm used to him now?"

"Yeah, he's a bit of a slow-burner." She nods. "But he's worth it."

I have to ask. "Have you two ever . . ?"

I don't even get to finish my sentence. "God, no." She looks appalled. "Ricardo's like a brother to me!"

I hold my hands up in defence. "You were in his room when I was viewing the flat; that's the only reason I asked!"

Beth laughs. "I'd been sleeping on the couch in the living room before you turned up - he bundled me into his room so I wasn't 'making the place look messy' as he put it," she explains. "And then he asked me to appear after five minutes in case you, and I quote directly once more, 'turned out to be a psycho'!"

"Charming," I muttered under my breath. "I'd love to have been a fly on the wall to hear what he had to say about me afterwards."

Beth eyes me knowingly. As if she can actually see the metaphorical fishing rod I'm dangling in front of her, hoping to reel in some compliments. Or, in Ric's case, I guess they'd be more likely to be insults. "Yeah. That might have been . . . enlightening," she says obscurely.

She already made it clear that she's 100 percent loyal to Ric; I shouldn't really be surprised that she has no intention of telling me what had been said. Can't say I didn't try, I think as the guys return to the table. Realising the quiz is about to start, I give myself a metaphorical kick up the arse, and urge my brain to focus.

Ric explained to me earlier that there are four rounds that vary each week by subject, and one final round that's always a music round. I'm extremely disappointed when the first one is . . . Sport.

This is not going to be a chance for me to show off my knowledge. Sport is not my strong point on any level.

For a start, I hate football - my dad dragged me along to a Celtic match when I was a kid, and I cried and begged to go home after 20 minutes. I go out of my way to avoid coverage of the Olympics, as if I'm worried it'll somehow infect me with the urge to exercise more. The best thing about Wimbledon is it provides an excuse to eat strawberries and cream (low on the strawberries, heavy on the cream), and drink fizz in front of the TV. And, let's be honest, I can do all that without having to actually watch tennis.

So the rest of the team manage to cobble together some answers, while I shrug and smile apologetically at the end of each question asked. Bimbo-tastic!

Sports out of the way, each team hands in their answers for marking, and conversation resumes between the group. "So do you think you're prepared for the race?" Beth asks Ric, sipping her pink G&T delicately.

He shrugs. "Probably. I think I've done enough training anyway, but I guess we'll find out on Sunday."

"Which race are you doing?" I ask curiously.

"It's a half-marathon in Argyll," Beth answers for him. I've got a feeling that might be a habit of hers. "Ric's running it for a charity that supported my dad when he had cancer. My dad's okay now," she adds quickly, obviously noticing my face fall at her words. "But we like to give back to the charity when we can."

"Unfortunately, Beth had the bright idea to run this race, and then remembered she can't even run half a mile without getting winded," Ric adds wryly. "So muggins here got stuck with the task instead." He's smiling as he speaks though, so I don't think he's that annoyed about it.

It's actually pretty sweet, I reflect briefly.

I definitely didn't have runs-for-charitable- causes on my Ricardo Parker Bingo Card, that's for sure. Makes sarcastic comments, yes. Steals my food, yes. Possible womaniser, yes. But I certainly didn't have him pegged as the benevolent sort.

"I'm coming along to cheer you on though; that's practically the same thing!" Beth says defensively. He rolls his eyes.

"Aye, sure Beth, standing at the side of the road, banging your hands together occasionally is the same as running 13.1 miles."

Man has a point. I can't help but laugh.

Beth makes a face at Ric, then turns back to me. "Actually, Abby, you should come too!" she says excitedly. "We're staying over in a lodge nearby on Saturday night, and there's a spare bed."

Well, that took an unexpected turn!

"I'm sure Abby has other plans." Ric's voice is gruff. He looks a bit embarrassed, actually.

I think of my plans for the weekend. Oh wait, I have none. Lou is away on a mini-break with Tam; and Kim is on a pre-holiday detox, and therefore resisting temptation by avoiding all other human beings. Even watching other people run would be more fun than being stuck home alone.

"I'm actually free," I announce, much to my own surprise. "I'd love to come along."

"Fab," Beth grins, pulling her phone out. "Give me your number and I'll add you to the group chat."

As we prepare to start the next round, I can't help but notice that Ric still seems uncomfortable. Maybe I should have declined the invite. Perhaps I'm overstepping my boundaries?

But right now I need to get mentally prepared for round 2 of the quiz. I'm even keener to impress this time, after my sports-related wipeout!

The next round, it turns out, is literature. And so my prayers have been answered; the questions seem to cater exactly to my knowledge, much to my delight! I'm pretty sure I've cleaned up on this one . . . And I'm right!

This is followed by current news. Yeah, I'm not too hot on that; I tend to actively avoid the news because I find it depresses me. Luckily I'm able to answer the social media related question correctly, given that's my livelihood!

The final round before the music one is TV sitcoms. After our discussion en route to the pub, I can't help but look over at Ric, and he's already grinning at me. For a moment, I can almost imagine what he must have looked like when he was younger, as he's temporarily emanating "kid at Christmas" vibes that seem somewhat at odds with his usual somewhat blasé personna.

"We've got this," he mouths at me across the table, dark eyes sparkling.

My cheeks start to burn as I feel Beth's curious gaze on both of us.

Turns out, though, that without much assistance from the rest of the team, the two of us do smash those questions. And then we're onto the music round.

"Okay, so we're currently in third place behind the Quizzly Beers and Universally Challenged, so we still have a chance for first place," Tom reminds us, placing a tray of new drinks on the table. "And I don't know about the rest of you, but I really want that £100 bar tab."

It does sound tempting. Although I wonder if I'd even be included in the prize as I'm technically not a regular team member. I kinda want to be one though. This has been great fun.

The music section is explained. Five seconds each will be played of ten different songs. A point will be given if you name each artist, another point if you name each song, a total of twenty points. If we get the connection between the songs or artists, we get an extra five points.

The stakes are high on this! Every point counts.

The music starts and we all do the classic "leaning forward so we can hear better" stance. "'Uprising' by Muse," Ric says quietly within the first few notes of the track 1, jotting it down on the paper. Everyone nods approvingly at that.

"That's Atomic Kitten - 'Whole Again'," I state tentatively as the next song begins. I'll probably lose several thousand cool points for knowing that. Ric notes it down without even questioning it though, so maybe he knows it too?

"Don't forget the connection," the quiz host reminds us after the last song has played. Ric pushes our answer sheet into the middle of the table, so we can all try to work it out.

"So we have 'All The Small Things' by Blink-182; 'Heads Will Roll' by Yeah Yeah Yeahs; "Every Breath You Take" by The Police . . ." Beth trails off, her forehead creasing. "Do you think it's the artists or the song titles that have the connection?"

My eyes scan over the next artist name - a Bee Gees track - and suddenly it clicks. "They're all best known for performing as trios?" I suggest, doubting myself even as I say it.

Ric takes another quick scan of the list, then nods, flashing that grin at me again. "That's it," he confirms. "I knew you'd come in useful!"

In that moment, I don't think I've ever been prouder.

The newly re-named Quizzery Loves Company wins by three points - the bar tab is ours! "Should we use it towards the drinks for next week's quiz?" Tom asks.

"Sounds like a plan," Beth agrees. "You'll come, right?" She asks me. "You were part of the reason we won after all."

I find myself glancing at Ric again. I don't want him to think I'm trying to steal his friends. But he's nodding along with everyone else. "She's right," he says, his smile seeming genuine. "You should."

Again, I find myself agreeing.

Mitch tries to persuade everyone to stay out longer, but we all beg off given it's a school night. And I'm already feeling more than a little tipsy. I don't concentrate well on a hangover, and I need a clear head to stay firmly on top of the nightmare that is Carrie in work tomorrow.

Saying goodbye to the others, me and Ric start heading back towards the flat. "I like your friends," I tell him.

"Even Mitch?" He asks skeptically.

"He . . . grew on me eventually," I reply.

"Yeah. Like fungus," he snorts and I can't help but laugh too. I've had such an unexpectedly nice night thanks to Ric's invite, and I realise I'm actually feeling happier than I have in weeks. Months, even.

That realisation barely has a chance to be absorbed by my brain though.

Because that's when I see him, on the other side of the road.

It's my first sighting of Declan for two weeks. The first since I left his flat a heartbroken wreck.

"Fuck," I mutter. I freeze on the spot, icing over with shock. Ric spins to see what I'm looking at. He seems to work out what's going on remarkably quickly, considering he doesn't even know what Declan looks like.

"Is that him?" He asks softly, reaching out to grab my arm. "Are you okay?"

"Not really?" I can't stop staring. Watching as Declan pulls away from the girl he was just engaged in an enthusiastic game of tonsil tennis with . . .

And his eyes meet mine across the road. He looks . . . Horrified. His mouth forms what also looks like the word "fuck". The girl turns to look too.

And it just got so much worse.

All this time I thought I was doing my best to stay one step ahead of her . . . But it turns out Carrie was way out in front all along.

Sorry for the delay in posting this chapter - it took me a while to get it written up, then edited in a way I was happy with!

Were you expecting this twist? And I'm curious to know if you're #TeamRic yet?