"This was the day you moved, and met me." The boy said to me, showing me the picture. I had no idea what was happening in the picture, it looked like a concert of some kind, but it looked pretty small and really dark.

"You moved in, I guess. There were posters everywhere around the neighbourhood for this secret gig in the basement of a pub, and you must have seen them plastered up everywhere. I don't know much about how you got there, or what you were there for, but I do remember that you were completely on your own, standing in the crowd with a crappy film camera, taking pictures of everything."

I looked at him, and tried to lighten to mood by saying, "Crappy eh? I'll have you know I used to develop the film back at university. Everyone said I had a knack for developing the colours just right."

He smiled at me. "Yeah I know you like developing film. I helped to build you a mini dark room in the basement of our house. You were in there all day sometimes."

Our house? Did we live together? That's so strange... I couldn't imagine him as my type at all. What was so enchanting about him that made me want to live with him?

He carried on. "Anyway. So there you are in the crowd, with your shitty film camera..." He winked at me. "And I had been drinking pretty hard that night, so my mate, he dared me to go up to you and get your number, because we both agreed you were the prettiest girl in the whole place. So I did, I pulled my drunken ass right over to you and tried to flirt with you, but you weren't having it. Which is actually kind of embarrassing now I think about it." He chuckled a bit.

I was proud that I wasn't having it to be honest. I was glad that I had standards, and that I hadn't changed my ways, even after moving away from Brighton. I smiled as he carried on.

"So anyway, you seemed pretty annoyed with me, and I was going to abort the mission, and return to my friend, when this big, bulky dude from behind us threw his drink up in the air, and you got drenched in it. You seemed pretty fucking upset about it, so I wrapped my coat around you and told you to come back to my car, because I had a towel in the boot. So yeah, you came back to my car, dried off and thanked me, and I decided I would drive you home, so you could shower off the sticky beer that was in your hair and all over your clothes. And in the end, I did get your number."

So some random guy, let me borrow his towel and drove me home one night? And then we lived together? This is all so strange. I was still completely clueless who the other two girls were, and who he even was. I stopped him for a second. "Whats your name then?"

He looked at me funny, frowned and then fell quiet. "Shit... I thought you'd atleast remember that. You honestly don't know my name?" He looked down at his feet for ages and then looked back at me. "It's Oliver. Or Oli. You sometimes called me Oli Trolley, which was this shitty nickname you gave me because of this other time, but I'll get to that..."

Notes