By the time Monday morning rolls around, my anxiety levels are high, and I'm running almost exclusively on my nerves. Today is the day I meet Ross!

I would have been feeling agitated about that anyway, but it's probably far worse now that he's gone radio-silent on me. If anything, it now feels a little "stalker-ish" that I'm going to this event, as if I'm going just to see him. Which I know technically is the case . . . But I don't want him to think that!

It also probably doesn't help that Orlagh and I spent most of Saturday on a quest to find Jay, with absolutely no positive outcome. One of the few concrete facts I remembered about him was that he managed a bar in the city - but he hadn't told me the name of it, or what part of the city it was in, which slightly complicated matters on the soulmate scavenger hunt.

"We'll visit every pub if we have to!" Orlagh had vowed dramatically. She was approaching the search in an almost millitary fashion, pouring over the Maps app on her phone and sectioning Glasgow off into manageable chunks. "We can tackle a selection of them each weekend . . . And get a cheeky drink while we're doing it, of course!"

I was starting to suspect Orlagh was mainly just into this project for the frequent pub crawls.

Anyway, we'd applied ourselves to the cause with true dedication on Saturday night, managing to work our way through a bunch of pubs in Merchant City, with no success. At every bar, while ordering our round, Orlagh had asked if anyone called Jay worked there . . . And so far, no one did. 

We almost thought we'd struck it lucky at one point, but it turned out they'd misheard . . . After all, I'm fairly sure my soulmate isn't a fifty-something female called Kay who works in one of the dodgier pubs in that area. Although, I guess we never really know what fate has in store for us!

It was like searching for a needle in a haystack - and my only reward was a hangover that saw me all the way through Sunday and was still slightly pulling me under today.

Despite the two-day-hangover, I've made sure to make an effort with my appearance. Wound my dark hair up into those heat-free curlers overnight so it now flows down in effortless waves past my shoulders. Applied my make-up with care - the perfect "natural" look. Glossy "kissable" lips. Not that I think there will be any kissing, of course - I'll be lucky if Ross even speaks to me!

His sudden about-face has been playing on my mind since Friday. I still can't work out why he went cold like that. The only conclusion I can reach is that someone was monitoring either the calls or emails between us, decided we weren't being "professional" enough, and had a word with him. Which I guess is fair enough, but merely remembering the tone of that last email still causes ice-cool humiliation to trickle through my bones.

Sitting on the coach, overnight bag tucked at my feet, I toss an Ibuprofen into my mouth and chase it down with some water, praying that the hammering in my brain ceases soon. I'll need a clear head without any ongoing construction work to deal with these two days.

"Mind if I join you, good lady?"

Of course, I didn't expect it to be Ross (especially not with chat like that ), but I'm still momentarily disappointed when I realise it's Gareth - the other I.T. guy - hovering in the aisle beside me. Still, I smile agreeably - he's actually a very nice guy and one of the few people I actually know in the college. I need him on side today!

"I didn't expect you to be on this trip," Gareth observes after he sinks into the seat beside me. "Temps don't normally go to these things."

"I'm doing Sylvia a favour," I reply, crossing my fingers. Although it's true in a way! "So - um - is it just you who is here to represent I.T. or is anyone else coming from your department?" I can't actually remember seeing Gareth's name on the attendee list - maybe he's here in Ross' place? My heart sinks at the very thought.

Gareth eyes me knowingly. "Why do you ask? Would it be the worst thing in the world if it were just me? Am I not your favourite I.T. guy?" He holds a hand to his heart dramatically, pretending to be wounded, before he grins. "Don't worry - Ross is coming too."

I blush, knowing I'm busted.

"No need to be embarrassed - I've heard you two flirting on the phone." Gareth is clearly Ross' version of Sylvia - both on a ship they don't realise has already sailed away without either me or Ross on board. "He was away for the weekend, though, so he's driving down to the hotel rather than coaching it with us plebs."

"What a snob," I joke, then try to find a way to change the subject. "So . . . Have you been on one of these trips before? Should I be scared?"

He just laughs in response, which feels slightly ominous.

It takes less than an hour to drive from the city centre to the coast, and once we reach the water, I sigh in delight. "This view is amazing!" I exclaim, face pressed against the window.

"Is it your first time in Ayrshire?" Gareth looks confused. "I don't think I've ever seen someone so excited to be here!"

"I grew up in the Highlands, so we never really came down this far," I explain, and he nods understandingly.

"Ah, that makes sense. We Glaswegians tend to come here a lot, mostly to escape the city. I guess you didn't need to do that."

"Exactly." I laugh. "Oh wow - this is our hotel?" We're pulling up in front of a grand old-fashioned building, with a beach stretching out right in front of it. It's gorgeous. So much so that I'm half-expecting to be turned away at the door, told there's no room for me, and sent to the Ayrshire equivalent of Bates Motel - complete with psycho killer!

But we all traipse in without incident and are lead to a room with a large breakfast buffet laid out. My still-hungover stomach wails in delight at the sight, and I assemble myself a buttered roll with link sausages and a potato scone. I've devoured it in what feels like seconds. "Did you even chew that?" Gareth asks in awe. He's consuming his own roll and square sausage with far better manners than I'm showing right now.

"I barely have any memory of actually eating it," I admit. "I think I might have to make myself another!" I'd hardly been able to keep food down yesterday, so my stomach is unusually empty and keen for more food.

I put another roll and sausage together, and I've just taken a bite when I hear Gareth say: "Oh, you made it!" Ross. It has to be Ross!

"Yeah," Ross laughs. "Although I managed to get lost at least twice." That voice. I'm frozen with apprehension, with the thought that he's right behind me, mere inches from me. I'm actually about to find out who exactly is behind the second Mystery Guy door!

"Well, you're here now! And look who you finally get to meet in person, Ross!" Gareth tells him now as he taps me on the shoulder. I'm not remotely ready for this, but I'm forced to turn around, with my mouth still full of sausage (mind out of the gutter, please!). "Guess who this is!"

Flushing, I continue to frantically chew on my food (because what else am I meant to do), as I meet Ross' eyes for the first time.

Except, I realise immediately, this isn't the first time I've met his eyes. And I'm already more than familiar with at least one other part of him.

"Skye, right?" The I.T. Guy Formerly Known As Ross says, the easy smile dropping from his face. His voice is suddenly flat . . . and extremely unsurprised.

Somehow, he already knew who I was, I realise. That's why he'd gone weird on me. And I can't really blame him, to be perfectly honest.

Because Ross Macallister? Turns out he's also none other than Mr Cab Sav.

I'm seriously going to have to lodge a complaint with that blasted Fortune Department . . .

I mean . . . I know a lot of you suspected it was a possibility! And Mr Cab Sav had to return at one point . . . 🤷‍♀️

It's awkward, though, right? It feels like it's going to be awkward. Well, I hope I can make it awkward, anyway... 😉