Gin, Fizz & Tonic

Out like a light

Late on a Friday night, Glasgow Central Station is a different beast than it is during the day. Groups wander around, some of them coming into the city centre for clubbing purposes, others clearly nearing the end of their evenings as they teeter on high heels towards the platforms that will take them back to Glasgow's suburbs and the towns of Ayrshire, Renfrewshire and Lanarkshire.

I dump my bag on the ground, wincing at the tell-tale chink of glass. Bella used to take the sleeper to London once a month, so she could attend Monday morning meetings at the bank's central HQ. According to her, the best way to accomplish it was to get tanked up beforehand so that she zonked out as soon as her head hit the pillow.

I've packed some gin miniatures. No need to draw Liam's attention to them, and who's to say I'll drink them anyway?

"Gin!" I spin around in the direction of the voice. Liam strides towards me, his height as always drawing attention. Three women who must be in their fifties, balanced on sky-high heels, stop their progress towards Platform 9 and stare. One of them sticks her fingers in her mouth and wolf-whistles, while her pals suggest that if the Big Man fancies a foursome, they will gladly oblige.

This, I am sure, is harassment, but Liam either doesn't hear or affects not to notice. He reaches my side, grinning at me. This evening's outfit is athleisure. Grey joggers, matching hoodie, black jacket over the top and black trainers. Clothes that cling to his thighs and torso yet make him seem cuddle-y at the same time.

I'm neither tall nor thin enough to pull off athleisure, and the skater skirt, sweater and long socks ensemble would be ridiculous, considering that I'll be taking it all off in twenty minutes' time, so I'm wearing skinny jeans, a pink cashmere twin top, natural-look-took-an-hour-to-apply make-up and ringletty curls. The jeans stick to my freshly waxed legs.

"The train's over there." He gestures towards Platform 1.

I pick up my bag and hand over the one that contains a Tupperware box. "I, um, made you something."

The offer startles him. He removes the box from the bag and opens the lid, staring first at the contents, then at me.

"Vegan chocolate fudge. I found a recipe online. They taste a bit like Ferrero Rocher because they've got hazelnuts in them, although I really should have wrapped them in gold foil to further the illusion and..."

A thought about why he's so unkeen on the gift strikes me. "Hazelnuts! Oh, Christ. Gimme that."

I snatch the box from his grasp. Three bits of fudge fly out, one of which lands in front of a boozed-up reveller who stoops to investigate, picks it up, sniffs it and pops it in his mouth, turning to exclaim, "Five-second rule, aye?" as Liam and I stare at him in disbelief.

"Gin? Erm, why did you grab the box back?" Liam asks.

"Nuts! Are you allergic to them? I forgot to check, and you might... see, Dylan is seriously allergic to nuts. He went into anaphylactic shock once after touching a knife I'd been using to chopping walnuts."

Liam picks up a chunk of fudge, pops it in his own mouth, and chews and swallows thoughtfully. The movement of his Adam's apple is mesmerising. Lust, that ever-present condition he leaves me in, surfaces once more.

"Nope," he confirms. "Definitely not allergic to nuts. Luckily for you, I'm not allergic to nutty people either."

I draw myself up to my full height of one hundred and fifty-eight centimetres. "Whatever can you mean? I, Sir, am the very definition of sane sensibility."

He mock bows. "Madam, you are indeed! This is seriously good fudge. Most vegan chocolate stuff is far too sweet, but these are just right."

So they should be, given the price of the specialist condensed non-milk, premium dark chocolate, creamy almond butter and the vanilla extract ingredients. But I twinkle back at him, delighted, and we head for the train.