So it turns out Ricardo Parker has been annoyingly right about many things.

Including, apparently, his ability to just shut off any feelings he had for me.

If I'd thought at all he'd be awkward around me the day after our . . . thing, I was wrong. He'd left me a note already, telling me he was still willing to be my date to the wedding, and adding he hoped we could still watch The Chase together. The note was sweet, of course, but it just served as a reminder of the rejection once again.

Welcome to The Friendzone, Abigail!

The abandoned belongings from my bag were also there - three tampons (cringe), four lipglosses, an emergency Mars Bar, and the book I'd been reading on the subway. The juxtaposition of a romance novel, perched next to that note just completed the humiliation. That little added je ne sais quoi I didn't know it needed.

Anyway, when he wandered into the living room on Friday evening, everything just felt . . . Normal. And yet, at the same time, completely wrong.

There was banter and laughter, and still the odd bit of that damn Eye Contact. There was no mention of the previous night's events. Although the chemistry that I now realised had been there between us from the outset still lingered; the scent of what could have been.

But the anticipation was gone now. Ric had well and truly extinguished the flickering flame before it properly had a chance to spread. The firefighters who were on call at this time the previous evening had now been told to stand down. "No risk of burning loins here, lads. Let's go home."

I was so disappointed.

Lou has finally went back to a Tam-less flat, and I decide to join her for a couple of days. I feel it's necessary to put some space between me and Ric.

Kim has even deigned to temporarily end her self-imposed pre-holiday detox to join our extended pyjama party. She says she's there for the gossip, but I suspect it is more related to the fact we promised copious amounts of cake and prosecco. A girl can only live on cabbage soup and kale for a limited amount of time, after all.

Both girls cheer when I tell them I've finally told Declan where to go, as well as blocking him. "It's about bloody time!" Lou announces, clinking her glass against mine so hard that I fear they'll both shatter. That would be such a waste of good prosecco. "Did you tell Ric?"

I shrug, tears threatening once again."No point, really. For some reason, he's convinced I'm not over Declan, and that I'd drop him like a shot if he reappeared."

"I don't understand this at all," Kim says, swallowing a giant bite of lemon drizzle cake. "Wasn't it Ric who was so sure that you and Declan wouldn't be getting back together? He basically warned you of that before you moved in, right?"

"Yep." I nod. "The guy is a contrary enigma. And he frustrates the hell out of me."

"He's frustrating me too." Lou tops up our glasses. "The way he was eye-fucking you on Thursday night was making the rest of us feel like pervy Peeping Toms! Why confess his feelings like that, then just close it all down without even giving it a proper chance? It really doesn't compute!"

I honestly don't have a clue. I've spent the best part of the last 48 hours trying to work out what the heck is going on in Ric's head, and I'm still coming up blank. His brain is a secure safe. For the shortest space of time I thought I'd finally cracked the security code - or perhaps he'd just briefly, carelessly, left it unlocked - but it's shut tight once again.

I've also been wondering whether I should find a new place to live; maybe even move back in with Lou - and hope for the best that her Loud Sex Era is over now that Tam is gone. I haven't quite considered yet how much red tape there would be around breaking the contract a few months early, but Marcella seems decent enough - maybe I could offer to try and find a replacement flatmate if money was an issue? But then that makes me think of another girl potentially moving in, maybe unproblematic and baggage-free, and then making the moves on Ric. The very thought makes me want to throw up.

I finally force myself back to the flatshare on Monday after work, and we slip back into our routine once more. Watching "The Chase" like old friends, when nothing could be further from the truth. Ric doesn't need to know I go back to my room every single night, and torture myself, as I remember every detail of last Thursday on a loop, and try to rewrite the story so Declan doesn't ruin everything. The "what ifs?" have the potential to drive me insane.

"Are you coming to the quiz tonight?" He asks me this Thursday. I wasn't sure I was invited, to be honest. After all, I've only been twice; it's not like I'm a regular.

"I didn't know if you would want me there," I mutter, not looking at him.

"We're friends, Abby." His voice is gentle. "You're always more than welcome to come along."

The very word "friends" squeezes at my insides. My stomach lurches.

I suspect I'm not going to be able to maintain this particular friendship. It's just too hard.

"Okay, you've twisted my arm," I agree. Surely things can't get worse than they already are?

Except apparently they can.

I'm squished in next to Mitch at the table, who is doing his best to interrogate me about my sister, while trying to play it cool and act like he doesn't actually care, all at the same time. Boy Mind Games are bad enough at the best of times; but they're even more annoying when it's coming from a guy I'm not even involved with.

And, speaking of those mind games, apart from our walk to the pub where he was pretty much forced to speak to me, Ric is basically ignoring me and talking only to Beth and Tom.

He might be the one saying he still wants to be friends, but at the moment that just feels like lip service. But then maybe thats just my fragile heart and pulverised ego talking.

He definitely seems different tonight though.

My wounded gaze keeps landing on him involuntarily. I note the slogan on today's navy blue t-shirt: I have neither the time nor the crayons to explain it to you. Default Facial Expression of The Day is aloof. Current stubble status: hot as fuck. I watch him run a tanned hand over his chiselled jaw. I'm jealous of that jaw. I'm jealous of that hand. I just want him all over me.

Then I realise he's watching me watching him, and I blush furiously. Before I can look away, he flashes me a smirk. A week ago that would have had me melting into the table. Now it's just making me uneasy, and I dont know why.

Things come to a head for me between the second and third rounds of the quiz, when I return from the loo to spot a pretty blonde girl flirting with Ric at the bar.

And he's responding to it. Clearly into it.

Even from here I can see Eye Contact has been enabled. His smile is bright. It widens as she touches his arm. Those dark eyes sparkle. I wither.

Last week he was looking at me like that.

I can't do this.

"Hey." I approach our table, determined to leave before I have to witness anything that might break me completely. I know I'm struggling to keep my voice casual. "Something's came up; I'm gonna have to head off."

"Everything okay?" Beth asks. Her gaze flits behind me and I know she's looking over at the bar. A slight frown briefly dents her smooth forehead.

I nod quickly. "All great. Thanks!" I wave, force a smile and head outside. As I turn to pull the pub door closed, I see Ric watching me from his position at the bar. His expression is inscrutable.

As I storm home, I curse my bad judgement once again. Why did I have to fall for Ric, of all people? He was clearly fated to annoy me from the very beginning; now he's just fulfilling his destiny.

I can't sleep. I need to know if he's going to come home.

More importantly,I need to know if he's going to be coming home alone.

The idea of him bringing a girl home is killing me. I can't live like this.

An hour or so later, I hear the flat door softly open and close. His bedroom door clicks shut within moments. I hear no voices.

I almost choke on my sigh of relief. And then I close my eyes, reaching an important decision.

After the wedding, I'm going to tell Ric I'm moving out . . .

I'm not liking Ric very much this chapter. But sometimes it has to get worse before it gets better. I suppose . . .