I hadn't even expected Kris to be free, never mind up for a night out. Within five minutes of him buzzing the door to my flat, however, it was clear why he'd taken hardly any convincing.

"Things are just getting a bit boring, you know?" he tutted, pouring two glasses from the bottle of Prosecco he'd arrived with. "I mean, I still fancy him like mad but every night he gets home, eats dinner, watches TV, takes a shower then goes to bed. I may as well not exist."

I guess domestic bliss wasn't all it seemed from the outside.

"I'm sure it's not that bad," I smiled. "You two are crazy about each other, it's probably just the honeymoon period wearing off a bit."

He pursed his lips in a matter of fact pout. "Abs, it's only been two months."

With a grimace, I let out a non-committal groan as I raised my glass to my lips.

Kris rolled his eyes before downing the remainder of his drink in one go. "I definitely need a bit of fun back in my life, even if it's just one night out with you."

"Oh, cheers, make a girl feel wanted."

Topping us both up, Kris let out a cackle. "You know what I mean," he smirked. "Just because we have partners, doesn't mean we can't go out and get other guys to buy us drinks. No harm in that..."

The thought of another guy buying me a drink caused my stomach to flip. There was only one person I wanted to be buying my drinks. But, seeing as that person didn't seem to care all that much anymore, Kris was right. There would be no harm in it.

As we'd half expected, the first venue we arrived at was dead. A cold Monday night in central London was never going to be party headquarters, but I'd expected at least a few of the after-work crowd to still be propping up the bar.

After quickly knocking back a couple of cocktails, Kris grabbed our things up in his arms.

"Fancy some real fun?"

The glint in his eyes suggested that I'd be a fool to turn the offer down.

Giggling like idiots, we clambered into one of those tacky, brightly lit tourist taxis; the ones you usually see with some poor guy pedalling groups of camera-happy tourists along overcrowded roads.

"Soho please," Kris instructed, "And I'm only giving you a fiver for it, so don't try and rip us off."

The fact we were only two minutes around the corner from Soho to begin with meant he accepted the pointless fare. He probably just wanted to keep moving to stop his legs from falling off. Khaki shorts on the first of March? I couldn't help thinking it must have been his first British winter.

When we arrived at Kris' venue choice, the doorman bustled us in at the front of the queue and straight past the desk without paying.

I rolled my eyes to myself. Kris and his never-ending list of 'contacts'. Still, I was grateful for the free drink tokens he thrust in my palm as he gave Kris a hug before heading back out to his post.

The heaving mass of bodies in the club radiated sweaty warmth. With a glass of bright blue, unidentified alcohol in our hands, we made our way onto the dance floor. It may have been Monday, but in there it could have been New Years Eve. Everywhere I looked, a beautiful, colourful crowd of all shapes and sizes was throwing their best moves. Dancing like everybody was watching.

With a glug of the sweet, coconut-heavy cocktail, I figured that if I couldn't beat them, I might as well join in the fun.

A few songs later, my empty glass had been swept from my hand as Kris pushed his way back towards the bar to get us another. With the bass vibrating up through my legs into my stomach, I continued to dance with the group we'd integrated ourselves with. In the corner of my eye, I spotted a familiar-looking head of messy blonde hair.

Noah?

Squinting over the shoulder of the pretty, shaved-head guy twerking against my hip, my eyes connected with the pair staring straight back at them.

Of course it wasn't Noah. Noah was somewhere in Europe, playing to adoring crowds and doing God-knows-what with his free time. But, whoever this guy was, he definitely seemed a little... out of place.

When Kris returned to the dance floor, two bright orange drinks in his hands this time, I stood on my tiptoes to shout in his ear above the pumping beat.

"That guy," I yelled, "The one stood over there-"

Before I could even finish my sentence, Kris had not so subtly turned his entire body around to look straight in the stranger's direction.

His lips curled in a smirk as he turned back to face me. "Straight as a ruler."

I slapped his arm, causing blobs of orange liquid to fly out onto the already sticky floor. "I didn't say that!" I squealed.

"Thought it though, didn't you?" Kris grinned, handing me the slightly less full of the two glasses and sucking the spilled droplets from the back of his hand.

I raised an eyebrow as I leaned up to yell in his ear again. "If he's straight, then why is he here?"

"God knows," he laughed, "Maybe he's just having a night out with his amazing gay best friend, too."

As I feigned shock, Kris planted a kiss on my cheek then turned to rejoin our dancing group of new acquaintances.

I tried to get back into it, but I couldn't stop catching the eye of the mystery man leaning against the bar. Each time our eyes met, he seemed to quickly divert his gaze. Or maybe I was imagining it. There was only one way to find out.

Buoyed by the alcohol in my system and the niggling doubt that Kris' gaydar could have been wrong, I found my feet working of their own accord as they led me in the direction of the unidentified observer.

When I was just a couple of feet away from him, he turned and headed out of the glass doors onto the smoking balcony. Is he avoiding me, or hoping I'll follow?

Naturally, with my drunken curiosity now fully piqued, I followed. I found him seated at the back of the balcony, alone at a small wooden table.

"Fancied a breath of fresh air, did you? It's pretty hot in there, with all that dancing and stuff."

I was almost watching the scene unfold from outside of my own body. Me. Abi Wilson. Striking up shit conversation with a stranger in a bar? The thought alone made me feel a bit giddy. Or maybe it was the orange drink that I'd already half finished on my way over.

The stranger smiled up at me as he twirled his beer bottle on the table. "Yeah, I'm not really much of dancer."

I'd heard that line before.

Physically shaking Noah from my mind, I sat down on the opposite side of the table. Finally getting a proper look at his face, his features were completely different up close. His strawberry blonde hair was accentuated by a light dusting of auburn stubble on his cheeks and chin. His eyes were a pale blue, crinkled at the corners and framed by strong, thick brows.

His light denim shirt was buttoned all the way up, the sleeves rolled to the elbow. I couldn't see any tattoos on his arms.

"Are you having a nice night?"

His deep, slightly Northern voice interrupted my hazy-eyed assessment of his appearance.

"Yeah," I smiled, "It's been fun so far."

"Who are you here with?"

"My friend. We both needed to let off a bit of steam, even if it is a school night."

He let out a gentle, warm laugh. "I'm Will," he said, offering his hand across the table.

"Abi," I replied, placing my hand into his soft, warm palm and shaking it.

After chatting for at least twenty minutes, it felt as though we went back years. Will had told me all about his younger brother, Shaun, who had only just come out and was still finding his feet. To help him make new friends, Will had let Shaun move into his flat for a while and acted as his wingman on nights out. Apparently, the small town in Leeds that they were from didn't offer much in the way of a gay scene.

The more we spoke, the more I came to like Will's laid-back attitude. Being a spare part in his brother's fledgling social life didn't bother him. He worked from home as a graphic designer, so was just glad to get out of the house half the time.

"Even if it means I end up meeting more potential boyfriends than I do girls these days," he joked.

I found myself avoiding any line of conversation that involved Noah. I wasn't going to go home with this guy, but the conversation was definitely becoming more comfortable - a little flirty even - and I didn't want to throw the 'my boyfriend is a rock star' line in there just yet.

Noticing my glass was empty, Will raised his eyebrows. "Same again?"

"Um, yeah, go on. I've no idea what it was, though."

He laughed as he stood up from the table and patted his pocket, subconsciously checking for his wallet. Black, skinny jeans. Without thinking, I let my eyes travel briefly to his crotch before shooting them down at my empty glass. I don't think he noticed.

When he returned, he placed another glass of bright orange liquid in front of me.

"Still no idea what that is, but someone in front of me ordered it so I just asked for the same."

I smiled up at him as he took the opposite seat once again. Right on cue, the familiar opening bars of a song I knew well began to blare out from inside the club.

The upbeat, guitar-heavy intro drew excited screams from the revellers inside. I guess Don't Hold Me Down by The Ambition had become something of an anthem to them.

"Oh God, not this bloody song," Will groaned.

I gulped, trying to act casual. "Not a fan?"

Will grimaced. "I just don't understand why everyone's going nuts about this band. They're all over my social media for some reason."

Hopefully, my laugh didn't sound too nervous. "Yeah, they've really taken off this last few months."

"They just seem like a bunch of..."

"A bunch of what?"

"Pricks, maybe?" he replied with a laugh. "I'm sure they're nice guys in real life, but all I ever see are headlines about how they're working their way through every female celebrity out there."

I didn't respond, taking a glug of my drink instead.

"I can't claim to read the stories people post," Will continued, "But I saw something this week about one of them having a matching tattoo with that singer, Arla whats-her-name. A heart or something. Pretty obvious attempt to keep people clicking the headlines and buying the music, right?"

His words sent a shiver down my spine. Noah had a new tattoo. Noah had a new heart tattoo. Did Arla have a matching one? If so, why? What the actual fuck?

A familiar voice booming across the balcony shocked me out of my paralysis.

"Abi bear, I've been looking for you. You don't smoke, what are you doing out- oh!"

Kris stopped in his tracks as he took in the scene that met him. With a raise of one eyebrow, a tiny smirk crept up at the corner of his mouth before it broke into a sickly sweet smile at Will.

"Sorry to interrupt, but I've just had a text from home and I need to get back."

"What's happened?" I asked.

"Nothing," he shrugged, "I just said that I was out getting drunk and dancing with hot strangers, and it worked a treat."

I closed my lips into a tight line, shut my eyes and let out a sigh.

"Really?" I said. "That's all it took to get the reaction you wanted?"

"Looks that way," Kris winked. "Anyway, I'm going to order an Uber now, are you ready to go?"

I glanced over at Will, who sat with an amused look on his face.

"Not really, I'm having fun chatting to my new friend."

"I'm not going to leave you in the heart of Soho, Abs," Kris said, rolling his eyes. "I know the night's still young but I really want to get back. Come on, let's go."

"I don't want to go yet, thank you." My response was clipped. Just because Kris wanted to run home to his lover, didn't mean I was ready to call it a night.

"Abi, I really am not going to leave without you. We can come back another time, I'm sure your new friend will be here again."

If I thought my voice was clipped, Kris just won the passive aggressive award, hands down.

I looked over at Will again for some kind of sign that he wanted me to stay a bit longer. He had only just bought a round, after all.

"I'll be off after this," he said, nodding towards his bottle of beer. "I've got a conference call early in the morning. I'm going to be the fun sponge in a minute when I drag my brother out of here before he's ready."

My heart was sinking by the second. The conversation had been flowing and it was nice to not be at home, moping around and thinking about Noah.

"If you don't mind," Will continued before I could speak, "I'd like to get your number and maybe we can meet up again sometime."

Kris looked away with a feigned expression of shock, as though he hadn't just witnessed some guy in a club ask for my digits.

Before I could think twice, I'd typed what I hoped was the correct number into Will's phone, and hit dial to leave his number on my missed calls. Saying goodbye, I thanked him for the drink as I stood up and took my jacket from Kris' hands, shooting him a dirty look in the process.

"It was really nice to meet you, Abi," he called as I started to walk away. "See you again."

"Hope so," I replied, looking back at him over my shoulder as I began to walk away.

My smile mirrored his as our eyes lingered. It may have only been a fleeting encounter, but I'd enjoyed every second of his company. Every second of someone being interested in me: Abi, the person. Not Abi, the secret girlfriend of a former escort.

Noah may have been the one with his face plastered all over billboards, TV and the Internet. The one that had a matching fucking heart tattoo with the world's biggest pop star. But that didn't mean I couldn't enjoy having admirers of my own.

Especially ones that made me feel the way Will had done that night.