Feeling rather shamefaced from last night, having made my apologies to the various parties involved - my housemates, for opening my bedroom door with the delicacy of a SWAT team; FB, for being a spanner in the works of the boys' night out; Indie Queen, for texting her at what-time-do-you-call-this? o'clock - I went to Will Turner's house for dinner.

He very sweetly went to the trouble of cooking me a three course meal: tiny portions of risotto stuffed into a butternut squash, roast pork with all the trimmings (including stuffing, mange tout, potatoes, gravy, and more), then upside-down pineapple cake to finish. I was really touched by his effort.

I think it's only been Boy #3 who's cooked for me before - cottage pie, when we were just starting our relationship, and then lamb chops with buttery mashed potatoes and courgettes. The latter meal stays closest to my heart because I was under pressure to write an essay, and he came to my rescue by cooking dinner that evening while I worked. That was when Boy #3 was still my dependable Aidan. How things changed after that summer.

After dinner, I looked at some of his work, and then we watched a film. The usual routine, I suppose. I'll admit, I was clock-watching the entire way through. Plus, it didn't help that the boy I'd pulled last night - No. #18 - kept bloody texting me throughout the film. I lied and said that one of my housemates had food poisoning, but the ease with which I can lie is really quite disturbing.

I suppose I managed to smooth over my guilt about kissing another boy. It's not the first time - of course it's not - that I've done this, but I really don't want to hurt Will. It's just that I was so drunk at the time that, really... I wasn't thinking. Will actually asked me whether I'd been in Metropolis recently, so I gave him a very abbreviated version of my night. 'You didn't miss much,' I told him. Just, you know, me getting very giggly with my ex-boyfriend's best friend and then my pulling a Mancunian with a good haircut.

There was that awkward moment where I had to decide between staying at his or going home. He did say to me, 'You can stay here, if you like.' An invitation, I suppose. I was always going to choose to go home, especially when wearing contact lenses.

He walked me home, like a gentleman. I think we were running out of words, or I was, at least. But still, we talked. And then it came to that even more awkward moment where we said goodbye and goodnight. I wondered if it would be that tentative peck on the cheek, or maybe the lips, at a push.

It almost was. But then I reached out to him - put my hand lightly on his shoulder and drew him towards me, very gently. And finally, he kissed me. Tenderly, and softly - far cry from No. #18, which pretty much required me to extract myself from the grip of a steel vice. And then he reached up and tucked my hair behind my left ear. Oh. Boy, oh, don't you know that's a weakness of mine? Oh.

At last. I think it was worth the wait.