‘I would like that, Bridget. Please then, call me Daniel.’ With a hint a bitterness, ‘After all, ‘Mister’ seems to be a title that some here...think I am not entitled to have.’ ‘Then they’re fools,’ I said simply. I touched my glass to his. ‘Your health.’ We drank and chatted. As the night drew on, I asked him if he would be kind enough to see me home. The host summoned my rented carriage and Daniel assisted me into the back seat. I kept his hand in mine as he followed me into the coach. He. Until our senior year. I was forced to sit next to him in maths, which part of me was distraught about, part of me most definitely wasn’t. For the next three months, we chatted away our maths lessons, gradually becoming better and better friends. The whole time, I was totally aware of how much of a complete dickhead he was, but I didn’t really mind because every time I looked at him, he seemed to become more and more attractive. I never really spoke to him outside of school, I never really got. More

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