look up and along at me and nodded a bleary “Hiya.” Then he looked again and said, “It’s you again, who are you with?”

I told him I had just popped in for a celebratory drink and he insisted I join his little group. By the time he dragged me back out, his group had diminished to three. The other three had spotted some girls across the bar and were pestering them with offers of drink, which seemed to appeal to them.

“I’m Josh, and this is Mike and Sam,” he slurred.

“Good to meet you, I’m Ryan,” I said and gave as firm a handshake as I could muster.

Mike and Sam were as interested in my company as a visit from an old aunt and they quickly went back to monitoring their friend’s success (or lack of it) with the female fans across the bar. Only Josh showed a real warmth and friendliness as he asked me about my favourite players and what part of the game had impressed me most. Thankfully, he answered most of his own questions so didn’t notice that I had absolutely no knowledge of football at all. I could have listed all Lisa Minelli’s hits if he had asked but somehow I didn’t think he would be interested.

His friends, by now, had become involved in a heated discussion about the rights and wrongs of the match which gave me time to look at my little beauty unhindered. He stood about 5 feet 8 inches high, he had delicious red to sandy hair which was trimmed short to be almost stubble. He was slim but had a well defined body and he stood with his football top and faded jeans. His face had a few freckles around the nose, just spreading on to his cheeks and his bum was delightfully well shaped, like two little buns. He looked to be around 19.

“………and I’ll need to go soon anyway as I’m running short of cash and I am kind of pissed.”

I drifted back into the conversation. Josh was speaking to me and I had been so involved in sizing him up I had only caught this tail end.

“I have some beers and cider back at the flat, but not enough for six people,” I heard myself say.

“Who gives a fuck about them,” he said laughing. “Let’s piss off while they’re busy as I’m always up for a free drink.”

We were out of the pub and heading down the street before I had time to think. I wasn’t really sure what I was doing or even letting myself in for. I suppose I just hoped that at some point he would look into my eyes, say how pretty I was and fuck the arse off me but I had a feeling that this lad was just plain friendly.

He was weaving considerably on the way to the flat. I made a point of taking a roundabout route and more than once he said he hadn’t the faintest idea where he was. We got up to my little ex-council flat and he burst through the front door asking for the toilet. When he returned, he slumped on the couch and I put on the television to let him see the football highlights. He said he would love a cider so I opened two. The cider was downed as if it was a soft drink and he asked how many I had. I told him there was a six pack and