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We head for the stairs.

“You’ve no answered my question,” Ryan points out.

Is he jealous? No. Surely not. The thought is ridiculous. Yet I can’t entirely dismiss it.

“Not that it’s any of your business,” I say as we climb side by side, our footsteps loud on the stone of the stairwell, “but Innes is my brother.”

“Ah. Right,” he says. Then, “You seeing anyone?”

My pulse trips. There’s only one reason a man asks a question like that, isn’t there?

“No, I’m not. What about you? Are you and Chloe…dating?”

“Naw. That was a one-time thing.”

To my considerable annoyance, something in my chest loosens with relief.

We reach my landing, and I take my keys out of my bag. “Well, goodnight, Ryan. Thanks for walking me home. And, you know, for earlier. With that guy.”

“Night, Briony.”

He doesn’t move.

Neither do I. I stand there with my keys in my hand, making no attempt whatsoever to unlock my door.

“Er…”

“Just making sure you get in okay,” he says.

“Right. But I’m pretty sure I’ve got it from here.”

“Aye, well.” He doesn’t go anywhere.

We’re standing maybe half a metre apart. The landing feels smaller than it normally does.

Not for the first time tonight, his gaze drops to my mouth, but he still doesn’t move.

“How much did you drink tonight?” His voice is low. A little rough at the edges.

“Er…a few.”

“You drunk?”

“No. A little tipsy, but that’s all.”

He nods. His hands stay at his sides.

I realise he’s waiting for me to decide what to do. I can open my door, go inside, brush my teeth, and go to bed.

Or I can step towards him.

I should go inside. That would be a very Briony Sinclair thing to do.

Instead, I close the gap between us. Place my hand flat on his chest.

“Briony.” It’s barely a word. “If you don’t want to⁠—”

“I want to.”