Ah, the classic "only one bed" trope . . . It's an oldie but a goody!

After removing my make-up, and changing into my pyjamas, I stand at the bedroom door and eye the sole bed in the room with trepidation.

"Sorry," Beth says shamefacedly, as she bounces onto the mattress. "When I said there was a spare bed, I probably should have specified it was half of a double, and you'd have to share it with me."

"That's okay," I assure her. "I've been in bed with tons of people before." I bite down hard on my lip. "Oh God, that sounded much less dodgy inside my head!"

She laughs and snuggles down under the quilt, so only her hair and eyes are visible. We ended up watching Anchorman 1 and 2 after I'd went back into the lodge, and it's now well after midnight. I'm definitely feeling the effects of all the cocktails Beth insisted on plying us with, so maybe Ric made the right call by having an early night.

I can't stop thinking about that kiss though. His expression . . . It was like he really did care about me. Jeez, I want him to look at me like that again. As if I'm something sacred he plans on worshipping.

I wonder - not for the first time, of course - what he would be like in bed.

"Hey, earth to Abby!" My current soon-to-be- bedmate snaps her fingers to bring me back to reality. "Gonna get into bed already?"

"Sorry." Throwing her an apologetic look, I join her under the covers.

"So I meant to ask, what happened earlier with Ric?" Beth queries as she switches off the bedside lamp, plunging us into almost darkness.

"He agreed to be my plus-one for the wedding," I tell her, glad she can't see my face properly right now. I can feel myself blushing. "I guess I should thank you for mentioning it to him; made it easier to work up the nerve to actually ask."

"No worries." There's a brief pause, but I sense Beth isn't finished. "Did something . . . else happen out there?" She asks finally, slightly tentatively. "Ric seemed pretty flustered when he came inside. And the way he just headed straight to bed like that . . . Let's just say the last early night he ever had in his life was probably when he was grounded for skipping school."

I don't know how much to say. "He was just proving his worth as a fake date," I manage eventually. "He was surprisingly believable."

I hear a sharp intake of breath from her. "Wow," she says quietly. I feel her shift in the bed, turning to face me. My vision has adjusted now and I can make out her serious face, her eyes glowing through the dark. "You're not going to mess with his head, are you?" She asks abruptly.

Well, that came out of nowhere!

"Of course not!" I protest. I don't understand why she would even think I had the power to do that.

"Cool." I see her nod. "Sorry for even asking, I'm just a bit protective of him. He's more sensitive than it may appear."

I can actually believe it. The more time I spend around him, the more I'm starting to realise Ric has many layers. Like a tasty gateau that I want to sink my teeth into.

My initial pesky little crush was based completely on looks, admittedly. But, much like the bonus round in the gameshow Catchphrase, every time I spend time with him, or his friends, I uncover a new square in his personality, another clue to unlocking the enigma that is Ric Parker . . . And each time I discover something new, I find myself liking him more.

Which is highly unfortunate.

"He doesn't like me in that way anyway; he told me that himself." I find myself saying. A strong mental reminder is necessary at this point, especially after what happened this evening. "I tried to kiss him a few weeks ago, and he was very emphatic about that." I wince again at the memory.

I see Beth's eyes widen. "Oh really? He didn't tell me about that."

Interesting.

We both lie there silently for a few moments, then Beth sighs and manoeuvres herself onto her other side. "Anyway, we'd best get some kip, early start tomorrow! Sleep tight!"

"Goodnight," I sigh, listening to her breathing slow down and even out.

I stare at the ceiling, unable to sleep, and finding it impossible to switch my brain off.

Beth had told me earlier that she and Ric had grown up next door to each other, went to the same primary and high schools, and just immediately bonded from the get-go. It could have been another nice little romantic trope, you could say - childhood friends to lovers. The twist in that little tale was that Ric was actually the first person Beth had confided in when she realised she was bisexual, back in her late teens. They are clearly still very close, and share a lot of history, as well as secrets.

I have the distinct feeling they have spoken about me, although in what context I'm not quite sure. But I have to admit I'm really relieved that Beth didn't already know he'd rejected me. It had been an underlying fear for me that all of his friends already knew . . . But if he hadn't even told Beth, then I feel sure it won't have went any further.

I finally drift off into an uneasy sleep, but it's a restless night for me. It's barely turning eight a.m. when I slip out of the bed, making my way along the hallway to the open plan living room/kitchen. I fill a glass with tap water and gulp it down, before bracing my arms on the kitchen counter and taking a deep breath.

"Alright, Abby?" Ric is suddenly behind me. How long has he been here? Honestly, the guy is missing his calling as a spy!

(Be right back, just briefly re-imagining him as James Bond.)

I whirl around, and he's leaning against the kitchen island opposite me, just a few feet away, dressed in his running gear. For someone who apparently went to bed nearly half a day ago, he doesn't look particularly well-rested. His eyes are a tad puffy, dark shadows underlining them, and he's stifling a yawn. He also seems to be trying to avoid looking directly at me. I realise I must look an absolute riot, since I've just fallen out of bed myself, and didn't even bother to check the mirror.

"Hi. Fine." I mumble self-consciously. "You?"

Ric nods, seeming unsure. His gaze drifts briefly towards me then flickers away before there's any possibility of eye contact. Awkwardness lingers in the air between us.

He picks up his race number from the counter. "Don't suppose you have any safety pins on you?" He asks. "I forgot to bring any, and I have no way to attach this otherwise."

"Actually, I think I do!" Relieved to have a purpose, I glance around eagerly for my bag. I have no idea why I have a small bag of tiny safety pins in my handbag (possible suggestions on a postcard, please!) but after a quick dig through the depths, I manage to unearth them, waving them triumphantly in his direction.

"I'm not even going to ask," he says wearily, a hint of a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. He's definitely not his usual self - it's as if something has knocked the cocky stuffing out of him. Turning away, he starts fiddling about with the race number and pins, trying to attach them to the t-shirt he's already wearing. "Fuck," he swears under his breath a couple of moments later, as he drops a pin on the floor. He's practically radiating waves of tension.

"Here, let me help." I walk towards him and hold out a hand. "You hold the number in place and I'll sort the rest."

I try to distract myself from how close we are as I do this, busying myself with actually pinning the number on. Its difficult though; it feels as if he's flinching away from me, but trying not to at the same time. It's immensely distracting. My hand brushes against his stomach at one point, and he tenses up as if he's just spotted a grizzly bear behind me. Or perhaps he's just gotten a proper look at my face without make-up for the first time.

"You need to stand still," I find myself saying impatiently. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." He shakes his head, looking up towards the ceiling. Anywhere but at me.

I'm starting to suspect what's up though. It's clear he's having second thoughts.

"Look, if you want to back out of the wedding, that's fine," I say finally, trying to seal the last pin. My fingers fumble nervously. I do need him there, but not like this. "But I said it last night, and I'll say it again . . . I know you were just acting. I know you're not into me. I'm not going to jump on you. Girl guide promise." I laugh shakily.

His eyes finally meet mine. "I agreed to go with you, Abby. I'm not planning on letting you down." He runs a hand through his hair. "I'm just . . . nervous about this race." His voice is a rough rasp.

I'm not convinced. But I drop it for now, stepping back. "Okay. If you're sure?"

He nods again, firmly this time. "I am."

"Morning!" Beth trills as she steps into the kitchen. "Is it time for us all to carb-load?" Appearing to be the most awake out of the three of us, she starts pulling out pans and bowls to whip up pancakes, and the ensuing noise gets the other guys out of bed too.

The pancakes are amazing. And just what I need to soak up any residual alcohol left in my system. I watch Ric devour at least six . . . Where he puts it, I don't know, but I suppose he's got thirteen plus miles to burn that lot off.

Despite how tasty they are, I barely manage two. Anxiety is for some reason gnawing away at my stomach, although Ric seems more relaxed now, at least.

Once breakfast is over, we pile into the car and drive to the start line which, ironically, is in Dunoon of all places. A brief moment of deja vu hits me as I watch a passenger ferry coming into dock, remembering that first meeting with Declan. But it flickers away as quickly as it arrived, leaving a bitter aftertaste in my mouth.

Sometimes I do wish you could just delete all of the memories of a past relationship from your brain. Even the nicer scenes in The Story of Declan and Abby have now been tainted by Dec's betrayal. I would be re-watching the film clips through a new cynical filter, rather than the rose-tinted lens I was more used to. I wish I could tape over it with something nicer.

Different scenes. Better memories.

And, as I watch Ric running past, grinning and waving at us as we cheer him on, I find myself wistfully wishing that he could be my new co-star.

I can never let him know that though . . .

Abby's (once "tiny") crush is now developing arms and legs, that's for sure!

I'm curious to know everyone's thoughts on why Ric seemed a bit "off" today though . . . ?