Freya and Georgie are in the lounge when I get home. The TV’s on, the lights are low, and there’s a bottle of red and a bowl of crisps on the table.

‘Soooooo?’ Freya says, as soon as I walk in, pausing the TV. ‘How did it go?’ She’s got her feet in Georgie’s lap and Georgie’s stroking her ankles.

‘Great,’ I say, flopping down on the other sofa. ‘We’re back at his place having sex right now.’

‘Ha,’ Freya says. ‘You’re funny.’

I close my eyes. ‘I kicked a pigeon.’

‘Is that a euphemism?’ Freya says.

‘Ha. No.’ I open my eyes and shuffle on the seat, pulling a pair of balled socks out from behind my back. Ugh. Adam. ‘I literally kicked a pigeon. Dan touched my boob, I kicked a pigeon, knocked over my lager and it poured into Dan’s lap.’

Freya is just staring at me. ‘Thank god you didn’t try to have sex with him. You’d probably blow up a dog or something.’

Georgie snorts.

I drop my head back against the sofa. There was no way sex was on the agenda after the… pigeon incident. Dan was very polite about it, but still. It kind of killed the mood.

‘How was it apart from that?’ Georgie asks and Freya laughs.

‘My stupid fucking shoes murdered my feet,’ I say without opening my eyes. I had to prise them off as soon as I was in the front door and I almost threw them in the bin, but… they’re so pretty. ‘But other than that – and the pigeon – it was good. And he went and bought me socks.’

‘Socks?’ Freya says. ‘You’re never going to have sex.’

I straighten up and blink at her. ‘What?’

‘A man who wants to get into your knickers does not buy you socks.’

‘I think you’re wrong,’ I tell her. ‘He was very interested in my boobs. Well, one of them. Also, he was just being kind. Considerate. That’s a good thing.’

‘It’s something,’ she says. ‘Was there more dull kissing?’

‘There was more kissing,’ I confirm. ‘It wasn’t dull.’

‘The kissing’s dull?’ Georgie says, looking up at me from Freya’s feet.

‘Not dull!’ I tell her. ‘Freya just decided it was dull because I didn’t hump him on Westminster Bridge. It was good.’

‘Tingles this time?’ Freya asks. ‘A special feeling in your special place?’

‘A bit,’ I tell her.

And I’m not even lying. If I’d been able to shut my brain off enough to really pay attention then I feel like there definitely would have been tingles. Probably.

Freya swings her legs down and Georgie curls up against her side, one hand fisted in the front of Freya’s ironic Guns N’ Roses T-shirt. I know they’d both happily talk to me, but I also know I’ve interrupted their evening and they’re probably dying to get back to watching whatever it is they’re watching.

‘What are you watching?’ I ask, squinting at the TV.

‘The Sopranos,’ Freya says. ‘Georgie’s never seen it, can you believe?’

I can. ’Cos I haven’t either.

‘I think I’m just going to go and watch a romantic comedy on Netflix,’ I say, clambering out of the chair and wincing at the pain in my feet. There’s no way I’ll be able to stand up all day tomorrow at work. I’ll have to beg Henry to give me something I can do sitting down.

‘That,’ Freya says, pointing at me with her glass of wine, ‘is part of your problem.’

‘What is? And what problem?’

‘You’re a hopeless romantic!’ she says.

‘Aww,’ Georgie murmurs, nuzzling into Freya’s neck.

I need to get out of here; I know from painful experience that Freya has no boundaries where PDA is concerned.

‘I know I am,’ I say. Well, a romantic. I don’t know about ‘hopeless’. ‘What’s wrong with that?’

‘It’s fine. It’s good. But you need a bit of realism too. You know, life is not all “I’m just a boy standing in front of a girl” it’s more like “Here’s a boy, in his pants, and they’re not even clean, but somehow I love him anyway”.’

I shake my head. ‘I don’t know if I could love a man in dirty pants.’

She grins. ‘But you know what I mean? Romance isn’t all big declarations, running to the airport, performing a song for you at the O2. Sometimes it’s like… OK, I’ll give you an example. Georgie came over the other night, right? And I’d told her that I like M&Ms and she brought me a family bag.’

‘That’s nice,’ I say. ‘It’s not exactly romantic.’

‘Well, then I kind of put them in places and it was all really fucking hot…’

Georgie giggles into Freya’s neck.

‘But that’s not my point,’ Freya continues. ‘My point is that she listened to me, remembered something I’d said, and did something to make me happy. And then something to make me really horny.’ She shakes her head. ‘I’ve gone off the point a bit.’

Georgie’s hand is creeping under Freya’s T-shirt now. I edge towards the door.

‘I know that romance in films and books isn’t real,’ I say. ‘I’m not an idiot.’

‘But do you? Because currently you’re dating someone you don’t even like because you think you had a recurring dream about him.’

Georgie looks over at me, her eyebrows shooting up.

‘I did have a dream about him,’ I tell her. ‘And I do like him.’

‘You like him, but you don’t like like him,’ Freya argues. ‘And I worry that you’re pinning too much on this. On the dream.’

I shake my head. ‘I’m just optimistic, what’s wrong with that?’

‘Nothing’s wrong with that. Of course it’s not. But… it was a dream. Do you really think you have, like, psychic powers? Because… I don’t know.’

‘I don’t… not exactly that. But I think I had the dream for a reason. I think I was meant to meet him. Dan,’ I add for Georgie’s benefit.

‘And you’re sure Dan was the man in your dream?’

‘Yes.’ I am. I think.

Freya looks at me with one eyebrow raised. ‘Really? One hundred per cent?’

‘I mean… I don’t think I’m one hundred per cent about anything. Ever. Are you?’

‘Yes,’ she says. ‘Loads of things.’

‘Like?’

‘Gravity.’

I roll my eyes. ‘Things in your life, I mean. Like… when you moved to London. Were you one hundred per cent confident it would work out? Or your job. Were you one hundred per cent confident it was the right one? Or even the right career?’

‘Maybe not. And no, I wasn’t about any of those things you mentioned. But I was confident enough. I knew I wanted to live in London because it made me happy when I came here. Same with my job. It felt like the thing I should be doing.’

‘She’s a hundred per cent about me,’ Georgie offers and Freya turns to kiss her.

I take the opportunity to try and escape from the room.

‘Listen,’ Freya says, turning on the sofa so she’s facing me. ‘I believe you had a dream and it had a big impact on you. I believe you think Dan was the man in your dream.’

‘He was,’ I say from the doorway. ‘He is.’

She waves her hand dismissively. ‘What if he’s not? What if he’s just a man you met in a park who’s nice, but not right for you?’

‘But he’s—’

‘If you’re about to say “the man of my dreams” I’m gonna smash this glass and stab you with it.’

‘I know,’ I say. ‘But he is.’

Freya shakes her head, but her face softens. ‘Maybe you need bigger dreams.’