The opening credits of The Chase blast out, as I switch on the TV and flop into the couch in the living room. (I was right, by the way. It is the comfiest sofa in the world.)

The Chase is one of my favourite TV quiz shows. I'm obsessed with trivia, always have been. When I was younger, I memorised most of the capital cities of the world, just for fun. I guess I've always been a bit of a smarty-pants, on top of all my other Good Girl faults.

The door opens a moment later, and Ric wanders in. He settles himself at the other end of the couch, and I offer him some Haribo from the bowl I'm currently cradling. "This is starting to become some sort of routine," I remark dryly, as he pops a sweet in his mouth. "I thought you told me you hardly spent any time in here."

"It's not as much fun to watch quiz shows alone; everyone knows that," he replies, reaching for the remote to turn up the volume on Bradley Walsh's voice. He shoots me a sidelong glance, a knowing smirk lifting his mouth. "I'm doing you a favour here. How else will you know how much smarter I am than you?"

"Yeah yeah, whatever." I have to admit he's right though . . . About the first part at least. It's much more fun getting to show off my general knowledge to someone else, rather than shouting the answers at the TV by myself. And when I impress him with an obscure answer, it feels strangely satisfying.

I have to admit I'm also dazzled a little bit by Ric's level of intelligence . . . Our specialist categories don't overlap, but we have a broad range of general knowledge between the two of us. But when I suggested (only half-jokingly) two days ago that we should apply to go on a quiz show together, he'd laughed at me.

"We'd end up in a fight on-air because we couldn't agree on an answer," he had tutted, shaking his head. "And then you'd probably try to murder me." He maybe had a point.

I know, you're wondering what's going on here, aren't you? When last we touched on the situation with Ric, I was worried about ever having to face him again after he was forced to reject my slightly tipsy advances - now we're watching quiz shows together? I guess it does seem a bit of a leap.

I think he sensed I was still feeling awkward about The Unfortunate Incident, and that's why last Wednesday evening he came into the living room while I was getting my Chase fix.

Of course, being Ric, he didn't immediately alert me to his presence; instead he watched while I swore loudly and repeatedly at the contestant who'd decided to take the minus offer.

"She'll probably not get through to the Final Chase anyway, if that's any consolation" he had said eventually, making me jump. "Did you not just see her Cashbuilder? Brad asked her who the patron saint of Scotland was, and she said St Haggis!"

"Do you always like to sneak up on people, or is just me who gets that treat?" I grumbled. Deep down, I was kind of relieved though that we'd got that first face-to-face interaction over with. Normal service could hopefully resume.

He laughed at that and, much to my surprise, sat down on the couch. He was holding a half-full bottle of beer in one hand which he raised briefly to his lips before he spoke again. "I didn't mean to give you a fright. I just heard you in here, and thought I'd try to be a better flatmate and actually say hi."

I waved awkwardly. Why the wave? I have no idea! Cringe. "Hi to you too."

Were we going to address Friday night? I really hoped not. He'd said it was forgotten, after all. I just wanted to move on from it. Pretend it was just some sort of crazy dream.

"Who's your favourite Chaser?" He asked instead. He nodded at the screen, where The Beast was ready to take on Mrs No-Brain-Negative-Offer in the head-to-head. "I'm not a massive fan of him."

"Agreed," I nodded, glancing over at him properly for the first time since he'd walked in. "I'm partial to a bit of The Dark Destroyer."

That sounded so wrong.

But he just smiled at that, his gaze fixing on mine briefly. "Same."

Jeez, they always went on about people having "good eye contact" on Love Island, and I'd frankly thought it was a nonsense . . . But Ric was a master at it. And that was exactly what I'd fallen for the other night, imagining a spark when it had just been . . . Him looking at me.

He had ditched the smart look of the other night, and was back in a worn-out t-shirt and some ripped jeans, his stubble halfway to beard territory once more. Unfortunately this no longer distracted me from his amazing bone structure, or the molten chocolate beauty of his eyes. And genuinely, how was it fair for a dude to have such long eyelashes? Had he stolen them from a cow as a drunken dare?

Most people steal traffic cones, Ric!

Crap. I knew he wasn't into me, and damn if he didn't know how to push every single one of my buttons. But I kinda also wanted him to push all my buttons . . . if you know what I mean.

It was an unfortunate, but very mild crush though, and I was sure I'd get over it the next time he stole my food. Or I could just remind myself of the horrified look on his face as he escaped my failed attempt at kissing him. That definitely ought to get rid of my lady-wood!

I blamed Declan for this. All of this!

By this point, Ric had turned his attention back to the TV screen. Mrs No-Brain and The Beast had been presented with their first question.

"A hump in the road designed to reduce speed is called a sleeping . . ." Bradley read out dramatically.

"Policeman." Both Ric and I muttered the correct answer in tandem, before the options even appeared.

"Policeman; fireman; or paramedic?" the host finished. Often, the multiple choice answers were ridiculous. This was one of those many occasions.

"Surely she can't get this wrong?" I watched Mrs No-Brain chew thoughtfully on her bottom lip, as her fingers hovered over her options.

We both burst into laughter, along with the TV audience and other contestants, as she chose the third option.

"Oh my god." Ric had actually choked on a sip of beer and was wiping his eyes. "A sleeping fucking paramedic! That's up there with that Family Fortunes answer, where the guy got asked to name a bird with a long neck, and he said Naomi Campbell."

Unsurprisingly, Mrs No-Brain - much to the obvious relief of her team-mates - did not make it through the Final Chase. And Ric and I ended up watching the rest of that episode in relatively companionable silence, with the odd giggle or snort at the memory of the woman's ridiculous answer.

As the credits rolled, after the rest of the team won the money, Ric stood up, said "See you later, Abby," and left the room. I assumed that was the end of it.

But then the following evening, as I was getting myself ready to watch the show, he'd quietly sank down next to me once again, and that time he'd passed me a beer of my own.

We'd made minor small talk, shouted answers desperately at the screen, laughed at some of the more ridiculous contestant answers (there were usually a few) and, at the end, he'd once again got up and headed back to his room.

Even more surprisingly, the same thing had happened last Friday, and then again on Monday.

I'd had to skip Tuesday's episode of The Chase because of pole fitness. I hadn't mentioned this to Ric as - well, why would I? It's not like this was some planned recreational activity between us. He was the one who just kept turning up.

Anyway, now it's Wednesday again and, here he is once more, sharing my Haribo, making snarky comments, and knowing way too many correct answers for my liking.

Weirdly, it's kinda nice though. I've never really had anyone around me who liked quizzes as much as I do. It's nice to share that interest with someone, even if it is Ric.

As this show ends, the two remaining team members having being caught by The Vixen within 90 seconds, Ric doesn't immediately leave, much to my surprise. "You weren't around last night," he says quietly. "Is everything okay?"

I chance a quick glance at him. He's flicking through his phone, rather than looking at me, and something about the set of his jaw seems taut. Tense.

"Everything's fine," I reply. "I just have my . . . a class on a Tuesday so I go there straight after work." I tend to not mention the nature of my class to many people. Especially not men. They tend to get the wrong end of the pole . . . I mean, stick.

"Oh right," he nods. "Thought it might be Declan related."

"Aw, were you worried about me?" I tease, despite myself.

"Hardly," he scoffs, but I'm sure I spot a slight flush of pink tinging his cheeks beneath the stubble. "Just wouldn't want you to do anything stupid because of him."

"I'll have you know I haven't even messaged him once since the night he made our break permanent," I inform him proudly. And I haven't. He's messaged me a few more times though. I suspect my lack of response probably drives him crazier every time. That gives me way too much satisfaction.

Ric nods again, still not looking in my direction. "That's . . . Probably for the best." He stands. "Anyway, will I see you same time, same place tomorrow?" He finally looks at me.

"Sure." I shrug, still confused by that little exchange. "Quizzery loves company, after all."

He laughs, his face lighting up, and everything seems to revert to normal after that. "Quizzery Loves Company would make a great pub quiz team name! I might suggest that to my mates - we've been The Cunning Linguists for too long now, and it's hardly original."

Okay, I'm officially puzzled again. Why is he suddenly talking cunnilingus? I look at him questioningly, knowing I'm now blushing.

"That's our pub quiz team name," he explains patiently. "We go most Thursday nights." He hesitates. "Actually, if you wanted, you could come along tomorrow? We could use another semi-intelligent being, if you were up for it?"

I consider it briefly. It would be nice to get out of the flat - although normally I'm getting out of there to avoid Ric, not actually socialise with him.

"Just to clarify," he adds after my silence has stretched on a little too long. It sounds like he's went a wee bit on the defensive. "There will be at least four or five other people there too. This isn't some sort of ruse to get you to come on a date with me."

"Oh god, I didn't think that at all," I protest immediately. "I got the message you're not interested, loud and clear. But, yeah, I'd actually really like to come . . . go to the quiz."

Things feel . . . awkward again now, I can't help but think as he mutters "Cool!" and leaves the room. But hopefully this is a good step towards us well and truly sweeping what happened previously under the rug.

And keeping it trapped there for good . . .

Did you have a go at the quiz questions? I'll pop the answers in the comments inline here in case you did. >>>>>>>

I particularly liked the last question myself. Always wanted to feature myself as a quiz question! 🤣

Oh, and you get a bonus point if you've worked out which game "Unimportant Hobbies" is a piss-take of! 😉

So . . . What are we thinking about Abby and Ric bonding over quiz shows? Pub quiz could be interesting . . .

Hope you're enjoying the story! Please like, comment, and share if you are. 💜