'Just leave him,' Ed tells me. 'Harper's in a terrible mood lately.'

'All that stuff before, about toxic masculinity...'

Ed sighs. 'Look, don't worry about that. Harper's got issues with his parents. He probably doesn't want me to tell you anything, but you can probably guess the gist. His dad's not such a great guy, and Harper's had a pretty rough childhood.'

I glance back at Harper, then look at Ed. 'I think I need to talk to him.'

Ed shrugs. 'Your funeral. I'll see you inside.'

I spin and go towards Harper, who is leaning against the wall, one foot up against the brick.

'Jane, go back inside,' Harper says, when I approach.

'No need to be rude,' I say.

'I'm not being rude. I just don't want to talk to you.'

'You are being rude. You refuse to talk to me without giving me any reason,' I say.

'I don't need a reason to ignore you.'

'Well I do.'

Harper sucks at his cigarette. 'Kitty has this rule that we shouldn't get with anyone in the house. I think we should follow it.'

'And you just made that decision all by yourself, and didn't feel it was relevant to discuss it with me?' I say. 'You were just going to leave me in the dark, again? How is that fair? To just ignore me and pretend nothing happened?'

I watch as Harper's resolve softens; he slouches slightly, and he pushes strands of hair that have escaped from his bun away from his face. 'Kitty talked to me. She explained some things. She made me realise that I was making a mistake.'

'Why does Kitty think you were making a mistake?' I say, surprised, and hurt. 'Why do you think you were making a mistake?'

'Because, Jane, I barely know you!'

'That's ridiculous. I've been your neighbour for the last few months; I've worked alongside you; you've seen me practically every day; you guessed my favourite book! Of course you know me.'

Harper narrows his eyes.

It feels like I can't stop talking tonight, so I go on. 'And I know you!' I exclaim. 'I know you write poetry in that little book of yours, and I know which writers you worship and which you can't stand. I know you play five-a-side football, and you love craft beer, and you get furious when you read headlines from the Telegraph, but you tear up when you read stories about disability. You're learning French but you suck at it, and you make good coffee but you make even better cocktails. I know your parents are split up and you have brothers and you're afraid of living in their shadow. And I know the way your smile splits your entire face and makes you look goofy and amazing all at once.'

'Did Sylvie give you coke?' Harper asks me.

'So what if she did?'

'You're more animated than usual,' Harper says. 'I know you think you know me, Jane, because you know I play football and have three brothers. But you don't really know me. And I've realised I don't know you.'

'Well what else is there to know?' I snap. 'Do you think because you read Tolstoy, there are parts of your mind that I'll never understand? Do you think I'm that dumb? That shallow?'

'No, I don't think because I've read Tolstoy,' Harper sighs. 'I haven't read Tolstoy.'

'You... you haven't read War and Peace?' I stutter, surprised.

'No,' Harper says. 'I got bored. Will recommended I read it and when I didn't finish it I felt guilty. I always finish books. So I told him I'd read it and I'd really loved it, and I don't know, I just told you it was my favourite because I thought you'd think it was cool.'

I scoff. 'I've been slogging my butt off this past week, barely even a quarter of the way through this book, and it's not even your favourite? You haven't even read it?'

'You tried to read War and Peace?'

'Yeah, for you!' I say. 'I thought we could talk about it.'

'I haven't read Jane Eyre,' Harper says.

I roll my eyes. 'Fuck Jane Eyre. It's miserable. It gave me a lot of feelings and I loved it, but it's not my favourite book. I just didn't tell you what my favourite book is because I thought you'd judge me for it. Clearly I needn't have bothered because you were going to judge me for something else anyway.'

'So what is your favourite book?' Harper asks. He stamps out his cigarette.

'No way,' I say. 'I'm not telling you that easily. You have been a complete dick to me this past week, and you've given me absolutely no reason for it. You don't get away with it that easily.'

Harper sighs. 'I am sorry for being a dick to you. I just didn't know what to do.'

'Talk to me, maybe?' I say. 'That would be a start.'

'But if I talk to you, then I want to keep talking to you, and then I want to kiss you,' he looks so sad, as he says it.

I step towards him, wanting to reach out and grab onto his arms. I realise how badly I want to kiss him, despite how horrible he's made me feel this week. 'Harper,' I murmur.

'But I don't want to be with you, Jane.'

My stomach plummets, and I swallow, staring at him and allowing his words to bite into me.

'It's a terrible idea,' Harper continues. 'Because of the others. Because of the group, and the bookshop, and the bar. Because of what Kitty told me.'

'What did Kitty tell you?' I say, feeling on the verge of tears.

'That you aren't in a good place for a relationship. That you need some time to work on yourself. That you cheated on your last boyfriend,' Harper says, and at this last statement his expression darkens.

'Kitty shouldn't have told you that,' I say, and I'm suddenly furious at my supposed best friend.

'Well I'm glad she did,' Harper says. 'I thought you were a very different person, but Kitty made me realise you're very talented at putting up a cute innocent facade. And here you are, doing lines with Sylvie, and turns out you're a big cheater.'

'I am not putting up any facade,' I snap. 'I am not a cheater.'

'You cheated on your last boyfriend,' Harper retorts.

'That doesn't mean I would cheat on you!' I say.

'Well, I'm not waiting to find out,' Harper says. 'I had a girlfriend who did what you did. She pretended we were in a serious relationship, and then I found out she was sleeping around behind my back. She ruined my life. I dropped out of uni, moved back home. I was a mess, before I met Matt and Ed. I never want to go back there. I never want to date someone like you, again.'

• Author's Note •

Damn, Harper, that's harsh.

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elle xx