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Could he make it up to her with this job? Somehow right the idiotic mess he’d made of their friendship – if you could call it that? He never kept friends for long, except for Baz, who understood the crazy lives they led and the adrenaline that drove them.

‘Excuse me,’ Hannah said, and he turned to face her, the height difference between them as ridiculous as ever. But somehow more endearing now that they were both older; she looked less fragile now than she had back then. Her limbs were no longer painfully thin; her skin was tanned, the veins no longer prominent. Her breasts were fuller, her hips wider, and she’d lightened and grown out her hair. She was even blonder than him now. Longer hair suited her far better than the close-cropped pixie cut she had as a teenager.

But the biggest change was in her face: the angular, hollow features had filled out and looked much healthier. He remembered the way she used to pull apart and pick at her food until barely anything edible remained. A crumbling mess that she would quickly sweep up and put in the trash.

He’d not been able to help himself from glancing her way during the dinner service. There’d been no dissection or crumbling; she’d eaten her meal in a methodical order, frowning at some of the less appetising parts, and then thoughtfully moving on to the bits she seemed to enjoy better – no avoidance or discomfort. He’d been oddly proud of the change in her eating habits, as he’d been secretly worried about her in school, but she seemed to have overcome her eating struggles.

They’d almost talked about it once, but he’d fucked it up, like he always did.

‘Sure thing,’ he said, shifting out of the way so she could return to her seat. He would have moved further away, but Kev and the baby were behind him. Her body squeezed past his, her light, fluffy hair brushing against him and sending a wave of goosebumps up his arm. He tried to ignore the smell of her, but the citrus shampoo tickled his nose all the same, sending a sharp electric current between them that crackled like static.

The scent of lemons cut through the stuffy, recycled air of the plane. Hannah obviously liked the smell and flavour, judging by her choice of shampoo and sweets. It suited her – sharp and fresh, but also approachable and warm. He was so attracted to her it was maddening. He needed to get a grip.

The seat squeaked noisily as she sat down. She was pulling something out from her bra and tucking it discreetly into her bag. It took him only a second to realise it was his card.

He sank back into the seat next to her, unable to hide his smug smile. She must have seen it because she threw the bag down at her feet casually, as if tossing out the trash, going so far as to kick it under the seat in front. The bald man in the row ahead even turned around in surprise and she had to mumble an apology.

‘Where are you sitting on the next flight?’ he asked with attempted indifference.

‘62A,’ she replied, not needing to check, which didn’t surprise him, as she’d always been good at remembering details. At school, she’d been obsessed with doing everything correctly and thoroughly; it had irritated him when he was younger, but it no longer bothered him. He appreciated it now. Details could save your life.

‘Ahh,’ he said with a genuine sigh of disappointment. ‘I’m 52C.’

She gave an awkward shrug, as if she weren’t bothered either way.

‘And what I said about that job? I meant it; you should call me. If you want to travel, see more of Australia, it’s the best excuse, and working on a film set is always fun. We’re filming in a variety of locations – it’s a huge production.’

She nodded, her soft blue eyes fixed on the dark screen in front of her, as if she were deep in thought. After a moment she turned towards him, a certainty in her gaze that he’d never seen before but rather liked. ‘If I can. I will.’

‘You won’t regret it.’ He grinned, a familiar nervous energy rushing through him as new roads of possibility opened up.

She glanced away, biting her lip – her mouth fuller than he remembered, sweeter. ‘But if the agency offers me more work, I’ll have to take it. As in the long run it would be better to have something more permanent.’

The ball of energy in his chest popped, and he nodded with a carefree shrug he didn’t feel. ‘Sure, that’s understandable. I’m only in Sydney until Monday. So, let me know before then.’

The baby was fussing behind him again, and so he offered to help, as movement was always how he burned off his nervous energy. He liked change and exercise, never staying in one place for too long. The complete opposite to Hannah, who’d always seemed to crave routine – at least until she’d decided to move to Sydney, that is, which was still a mystery to him.

But perhaps this new Hannah would take him up on his offer?

Kev gave a grateful nod as he handed over the baby. ‘Ah cheers mate, you’ve been a lifesaver this flight.’

‘No problem, I hate staying still,’ he said, feeling more hopeful about the future than he had since Baz’s accident.

The layover in Dubai was only an hour and a half. So, most people travelling on to Sydney quickly disembarked and made their way to the connecting flight. He wasn’t sure how it had happened, but he lost sight of Hannah in the crowd and didn’t see her again until the next plane opened for boarding.

He positioned himself behind her in the queue. ‘Only another thirteen and a half hours to go,’ he said, and she glanced back at him with a grim nod.

It was two a.m. local time, but about nine p.m. London time. He had no idea what it was back in LA, but exhaustion from all his travelling was finally catching up with him. His eyes felt dry and strained.

‘So, what’s your plan to get through it?’ he asked curiously, knowing she must have one. He’d noticed her checking her smartwatch regularly, as if she were timing each activity according to a schedule.

‘A movie, then sleep. Then another movie,’ she replied. ‘We get into Sydney at about 10.30 in the evening. By the time we’ve done customs and picked up our luggage, it’ll be around midnight. So, I’ll probably sleep for a few hours when I get home, then get up as normal.’

‘Sounds sensible,’ he said, and she pursed her lips as if he’d insulted her.

‘Sleeping on the plane helps, but you’ll still be out of kilter for a while,’ she said.

‘You’re lucky, I can never sleep on planes – even if I’m really tired. But hey, this is such a long flight, I might manage it this time. I travelled from LA to London a few days ago too.’