2006, Oxford University.

The thing about Felix was that he had just about everyone at his disposal. Girls, guys, it didn't matter. He would talk to anything that walked. Everything belonged to him so long as he wanted it.

You weren’t in love with Felix, and he wasn’t in love with you. But you still wanted something more.

Of course 'just friends' didn't constantly have their hands all over each other, didn't sleep in each other's bed or see each other naked. And 'just friends' definitely didn't kiss each other on the mouth.

After a few beers, you're buzzed yet Felix is well on his way to a monster hangover, one that he'll sleep off on the floor of his dorm room.

It was coming to the end of a party that Felix threw in the Uni. You found him in his dorm room, sprawled out across the top of the bed that he never makes, shirtless and only a pair of flimsy boxers to cover his bareness. His head rolls towards you, cigarette between his lips. "Hey," he greets, smoke spilling from his mouth. "You have a good time with Farleigh?" You pick your way through the disaster of his room, stepping around the rubbish and abandoned articles of clothing.