It's time once again, I reckon, to circle back to expectation versus reality.

But this time, with a twist.

Because sometimes, your expectations are low, and reality turns out to be actually far better than you could have ever imagined.

When I first met Ricardo Parker, I thought he was a selfish, self-serving prick with an attitude problem. A food-stealing, womanising arsehole. (And those were his good points.)

Instead, I've discovered he's . . . kind. Sensitive. Funny. Intelligent. Protective. A great friend. An amazing artist. A slow burner who is worth getting to know, just like Beth once told me.

He's also very good in bed. Tender, thoughtful. And eager to please me. A lot.

It's The Morning After, and I'm woken by Ric trailing kisses along my neck. "Hey," I say drowsily. I'm still pretty worn out from the previous night. I think we eventually fell asleep about three in the morning.

I had a brief moment of panic a few hours later when I jolted awake, encircled in Ric's arms, and worried everything would seem awkward in daylight. But actually, now we're here, everything just seems . . . Right.

"Morning Abigail," Ric whispers as I struggle to open my eyes. As they slowly start to focus, the smile on his face melts my heart again. It's that "kid at Christmas" smile I've only witnessed once before. This time, though, it's absolutely because of me, and not because a quiz round has practically been tailor-made for us. "Did you sleep okay?"

I stretch my legs out, experimentally. "Pretty well, Ricardo," I reply, noting nothing seems to hurt yet. Between dancing and shagging, the last 24 hours have involved a lot more exercise than I'm used to. "You?"

"Best kip I've had in months," he confirms, pressing his lips against mine. His grin grows wicked as he uses this as a jumping-off point to start peppering kisses down my body, and I moan in anticipation as I realise exactly where he's headed. I close my eyes and grasp my pillow tight as his tongue teases its way to my molten centre. It doesn't take him long to make me erupt. 

While I'm still recovering, he gently slides inside me. This time, it's lazy, Sunday morning sex and it's pretty much perfect.

(Yes. You have permission to hate me now. But don't, like, punch me in the face or anything. I bruise easily, and I have an important presentation in work tomorrow.)

"Do you have plans today?" He asks me later, as we lie curled up around each other. "There's something I'd like to show you, if you're free."

He could take me anywhere, to be honest.

After getting ready, we wander hand-in-hand through the sunny west end, grabbing a sandwich and some juice en route. It feels so "coupley", and I realise how quickly I could get used to this life with Ric. It seems so easy, like something missing before in my life has finally appeared and clicked itself neatly into place.

"Where are we going?" I ask finally, as we reach Charing Cross. I'm starting to grow weary now, my muscles finally starting to ache from last night's activities.

"I'm taking you to my favourite place in Glasgow," he tells me, leading me across the road. "And, no, it's not a pub," he adds before I can make the smart-arse comment that was bubbling behind my lips.

Within a few minutes, we've reached the viewpoint, which stands above the M8 and looks back towards the west end. It's a clear day, and I can see so many pretty rooftops, towers, and spires stretching on for miles. "I can't believe I didn't even know this existed," I say in wonder, taking one last look before dropping down on the wall next to Ric.

"It's cool, isn't it?" He grins, fumbling through the rucksack that had been slung over one shoulder during our wander. The suit of yesterday has sadly gone, and he's back in his standard uniform of faded t-shirt and jeans today, but he's absolutely gorgeous, and I just want to throw my arms around him and never let him go. "It's where I come when I want to think." He laughs slightly ruefully. "I've been here quite a lot these past few months." Meaning darkens his tone.

"You were up here thinking . . . about me?" Consider my mind blown.

He nods. "Yep. I had to get away from you and put physical distance between us. So I would come up here." He pulls a sketchbook out of his bag, flips through it. "I sometimes try to distract myself with drawing. A homeless guy once told me I was a pretentious twat." He winces. "Not gonna lie, that kinda hurt."

"So do you draw the view?" He shrugs.

"Sometimes. Mostly I just draw whatever is in my head at the time though." He hands me the book, open at a clearly chosen page.

It's a simple pencil drawing but, still, it's not difficult to recognise that it's me. Apparently he was right - I do look cute when I'm angry. At least the way Ric's captured me anyway. From the expression in my eyes, I'd say this was inspired by our very first meeting, when I was "ogling" him instead of the flat. It seems that while I was distracted by his abs, he was having a cheeky once-over himself. "Wow," I murmur.

"This is from the day we first met," he tells me. He's looking away from me, at the view, and he seems awkward, slightly embarrassed, even. "I was a bit of a wreck to start with that day, what with being hungover and all, but I was a whole different kind of mess by the time you were done with me.

"I found myself coming up here that afternoon, and all I could think about was this girl who was about to become my new flatmate and how bloody attracted I was to her. About how unwise it would be to get involved with someone I lived with and how she was hung up on someone else anyway. And I looked down and realised I'd drawn this picture of you from memory. I'd barely been aware I was doing it."

Still not looking at me, he takes the sketchbook back and starts turning more pages, pausing to point out the ones that host drawings of me. "I drew this one after you got angry and threw that bag of nuts at me . . . This one after you practically streaked down the hall. . . This was after you came home upset over Declan - I'm really sorry for saying 'I told you so' then, by the way. I just didn't know how to react in that moment; I was still terrified you'd cotton onto the fact I had feelings for you at that point."

He flips to another page. "This was the next night; I drew it shortly after you tried to kiss me." You can't see my face in that image because it's buried in my hands. "I wanted to kiss you back so much, but I didn't want to be the rebound. This picture in particular was to remind myself of that. This was basically my therapy, any time I had any sort of interaction with you. It was as if I hoped I could somehow draw you out of my system."

"Why are you telling me this?" I ask.

He closes the book with a snap. "Because no matter how I tried, I couldn't get you out of my head. And I just wanted to be around you more and more as time went on, and I got to know you better. I found myself thinking that if I was lucky enough to ever be with you, I'd treat you the way you deserved." He sighs. "Of course, I immediately fucked that up last week. Couldn't bring myself to trust you were over Declan."

"So what changed?"

He scrubs a hand down his face. "The idea of not being with you at all was so much harder to consider than any of the other intrusive thoughts I was having," he says simply. "And after seeing how you reacted to Declan yesterday, I could tell you really were done with him."

"I'm glad," I tell him softly. He slips an arm around me, presses a kiss to my forehead, and we sit in comfortable silence for a couple of minutes, the peace broken only by passers-by and the traffic down below.

"So . . . How is this going to work?" I ask finally, and Ric turns to look at me, a question in his eyes.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, we're . . . Seeing each other now? Dating? Right?" I say tentatively, keen to establish this first. His face lights up as he smiles and nods, and my heart soars skywards. "But we live together already. Do we need to establish ground rules? Some sort of official date schedule? Or . . ."

He laughs. "How about we just go with the flow and not worry too much about rules?" He squeezes my arm lightly and I frown.

"Rules can be helpful though." God, why am I like this?

Ric's face turns serious. "Okay. How about just one rule, in that case?" I nod eagerly, then want to slap myself in the face. I'm such a nerrrd. "We communicate. If you have a problem, you talk to me about it. And same goes for me. Complete honesty."

"That sounds good to me," I reply. "In fact, it would make a refreshing change."

He kisses me again now, as if to seal the deal. Gently, sweetly. My heart flutters. Other parts of me also flutter.

"Anyway, enough of this sentimental crap; will we actually go to the pub now?" he chuckles as he pulls away.

I know he's being facetious though. I understand fully that him sharing his favourite spot with me, showing me those drawings, was a really significant move on his part. A really brave thing to do.

It appears that Ricardo Parker is somewhat of a secret romantic.

And as he slips his hand into mine and leads me down towards Sauchiehall Street, I realise I'm already pretty confident that he is going to be in my life for a very long time . . .

Only one more chapter to go, folks!