"Wow, Poppy," he said dryly. "You really know how to turn a guy on, don't you?"

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a hanky. "Here." He handed it over. "You've got mascara running down your face."

Blushing, I snatched the hanky off him and dabbed it around my eyes. "Thanks," I said. "But seriously, Noah what sort of guy carries a HANKY round with them? What are you? A character from an Enid Blyton story or something?"

Everyone laughed, except him.

"You're making it worse," he said. "You're just smudging your make-up round your face. Aww bless, did you get all made-up just for me?"

I scowled in return. "You wish."

He looked hurt for a second, then stood up and threw a hand out to his bandmates.

"Boys, this gorgeous choking girl is Poppy Lawson." I waved, still mortified. "And this," he continued, "is Ruth, Lizzie and Amanda."

Lizzie waved back maniacally, Amanda squeaked hello, and Ruth coolly acknowledged them with an aloof wiggle of her fingers. God, life is unfair.

The boys sat down. I got wedged next to the singer guy, who told me his name was Ryan.

"So, singing..." I said, taking a small neck of my beer and not choking this time. "What happened? Can you not play an instrument?"

"Oi," he said, but laughed. "My voice is the instrument."

I furrowed my eyebrows.

"Actually that sounded really pretentious, didn't it?" He looked worried, his blue eyes searched my face with genuine concern. Ryan, bless him, seemed to have that surprisingly common lead-singer problem of actually being shy and insecure in real life.

"I'm just trying to cover the fact I'm musically dyslexic," I said, hoping my own self-deprecation would calm his anxiety.

"So you can't play anything?"

"Just the recorder when I was little. So what are your band's influences then?"

I let his enthusiastic babble wash over me and nodded whenever I heard key words like "The Smiths", "The Libertines", "The Clash".

As I smiled and nodded, I took in the scene around me. Ruth had, unsurprisingly, found herself in a Noah and Bassist sandwich. She was in full seduction mode again, batting her eyelashes at the bassist, who I think was called Will. Her back was deliberately turned to Noah, trying to prove what a catch she was and how uninterested she was in him simultaneously. Lizzie was talking to the drummer, Jack, about some political biography they'd both read. She was firing questions at him and arguing with every statement he made, but they seemed to be getting along. Amanda was listening intently to Ruth's flirty banter and playing "best friend" by laughing hysterically at every slightly witty comment. And Noah...well, I hadn't let myself look at Noah. Until now...

I regretted it immediately.

The moment I stole a glance, his eyes met mine instinctively, and I felt my chest tighten. He held my gaze steadily, the smile wiped from his face. I didn't allow myself to breathe and I let whatever was passing between us pass. Every part of me yearned for him in a way completely new to me. I wanted to jump over the table, grab his face and taste him. Like an animal. It was terrifyingly overpowering and I could tell he felt the same. His hands were gripping the dry wood of the table. He looked...almost hungry. I realized then that all those bonkbuster chick-lit books I sneered at actually had it right; those tired old cliches were true. I wanted to devour him, rip his clothes off, consume him all those melodramatic things I used to read aloud and laugh at. A tiny part of my brain was reminding myself to get a grip, but that flicker of logic was powerless against my body's sensory overload.

"Poppy?" I heard someone say. Was it him? It wasn't. His eyes had lowered. The moment was over.

"Poppy?"

"Huh?" I snapped back to reality. It was Ryan talking.

He had finished speaking and I obviously hadn't noticed. He looked upset again, like he knew he wasn't interesting enough to hold my attention, and I felt guilty.

"I was just saying..." he went on, clasping and unclasping his hands. "...I was wondering who your favourite band is?"

"Oh," I said, frantically scanning my brain for a suitable answer. But it was oxygen-starved. I grasped for words. "The Beatles," I heard myself say. Stock answer. No one can argue with The Beatles.

"Really?" Ryan said. "Yeah well, I suppose you can't argue with The Beatles."

Exactly.

I could still feel Noah's attention on me and began to feel a little sick. I needed to get away from him. He was like kryptonite or something. I couldn't stand it.

I stood up and felt my legs buckle slightly beneath me.

"Hey, would you excuse me a sec?" I asked Ryan, grabbing his hand for support, not caring what he might think of the physical contact.

"Of course."

"I just need to...er...get another drink..."

And then everything went black.

I regained consciousness before I opened my eyes.

"Is she okay?" I heard a worried voice say. Maybe it was the drummer.

"She's fine." That was Lizzie's voice. "I think she just got too hot."

The realization of what had happened dawned on me. Humiliation seeped through my face and I felt my cheeks flush.

"She's still not awake. Should we call 999 or something?"

I kept my eyes closed. That way I could pretend it wasn't real.

"Let's tickle her," I heard Noah say.

He wouldn't, would he?

"Noah, are you really going to tickle her?"

"Yep."

I knew if he touched me again I wouldn't be able to handle it, so, cursing him silently, I reluctantly opened my eyes and let the scene come into focus.

"See. She's awake."

I was on my back. Squinting up against the sun, I could see everyone's expressions. Ryan, Will and Jack looked absolutely terrified but were trying to hide it, pretending girls randomly passed out in beer gardens all the time. The girls, Ruth included, looked suitably concerned. It was just Noah laughing. I glared at him.

"Wakey wakey," he said. "Nice of you to join us."

I tried to sit up. Bad move. Everything lost focus again and I fought to stay conscious.

"Careful now," Lizzie said, kneeling down and letting me put my weight on her. "Let's go to the ladies' and get you sorted out."

My face burned. I hated my stupid body and its bad habits. "Sorry," I said, stumbling to my feet. "I think I just got too hot. Didn't drink enough water..."

I leaned on Lizzie for support and she guided me expertly to the loos, Ruth and Amanda in tow.

"Maybe you guys want to get another round in," Lizzie called behind her. "We won't be long."

I staggered into the toilets and Ruth put a loo seat down so I could sit. I fell onto it and put my face in my hands, willing myself to wake up from the nightmare. I practised my breathing exercises, counting in and out again, and gradually felt myself getting stronger.

The toilets were insanely plush and over the top. Instead of a sink there was a stand-alone basin which spurted out water like a fountain. The walls were painted deep purple and adorned with giant gold-framed mirrors. I could see at least six images of myself reflected around the room.

I looked a mess.

When I got my breath back, I looked up at my friends.

"Well, where the hell did that come from?" Lizzie said.

I looked down at my flip-flops. "Sorry," I said. "Twice in a week."

"What happened?" Ruth asked gently. I found it vaguely amusing that she was here playing the "caring friend" role. She obviously wanted to impress Will with her (fake) generous nature.

"I don't know," I replied honestly.

"Was it another panic attack?" Amanda said. "It wasn't like at the gig. You just passed out like a normal person."

I winced at the word "normal". "No," I said. "I don't think it was another panic attack."

"Well, what was it then?"

I had an idea but the words seemed stupid. I tried them anyway.

"I dunno... It's Noah...it's like I'm allergic to him or something... Whenever I'm around him I feel like I'm in danger... No, that's silly...I don't know."

My friends looked confused.

"You're allergic to Noah?" Lizzie was sceptical.

I half-smiled. "No. I'm just being stupid."

"Well, this has happened both times you've seen him," Amanda said. "Maybe it's his aftershave? Did your doctor say you had any allergies that brought these things on?"

I shook my head. "No. It's just a coincidence. Forget it."

It didn't feel like a coincidence, but I knew I sounded like a madman and I didn't like them all looking at me. I just wanted to go back to normal.

"I'm fine," I said. "You guys go back. I'll sort my face out and meet you in five."

Lizzie put her hand on my shoulder. "Sure you're okay?"

"Positive."

"Well, if you're not out in five minutes I'm coming in to check on you."

"I'm fine. I just need a moment...you know...alone."

The girls filed out of the loos, leaving me alone in the ornate toilets.

I got to my feet and wandered over to a mirror my face falling when I saw my reflection. I didn't look great. Mascara was smeared under my eyes and my forehead was covered in sweat.

I pulled my hair back into a messy bun. Using some toilet paper, I carefully erased the black mess under my eyes and then reapplied some lip balm.

I studied my reflection again. Okay. Slightly improved. It was going to be embarrassing to go back out there. I knew I must have put Noah off there was no way he'd still fancy me after such a performance. But it was probably for the best. That was the plan, right? Don't fall for him, don't let him break your heart... Looking at the facts, two times I'd seen him, two times I'd lost consciousness. Coincidence or not, that wasn't good.

I took a deep breath and pushed my way through the toilet door, rehearsing the story in my head about being dehydrated.

Noah was waiting outside. I jumped when I saw him.

"Sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to startle you."

He looked gorgeous leaning against the wall, his eyes worried, mouth downturned. This was going to be hard, but I knew what I needed to do. I was already going crazy and I'd only met him a few days before.

"S'okay," I said, playing with a strand of my hair.

"I was worried about you."

I didn't look at his face. I didn't trust myself not to pass out again. "You shouldn't be. I'm fine."

"Poppy, can we talk?" He grabbed my hand, intertwining his fingers with mine. His touch burned, but I couldn't bring myself to pull my hand away.

"What about?" I shrugged my shoulders, trying to look casual.

"It's quite obvious, isn't it?" he said, temper flaring in his voice. "Can we talk about us?"

I mumbled something.

"What?"

"I said, there isn't an us. I only just met you."

He squeezed my hand tighter. "Don't be stupid. You must have sensed there's something between us. It's driving me mental. I can't stop thinking about you and I don't even know you. It's crazy. Just now, out there, when you looked at me, I thought I was going to explode. I know you felt it too." He searched my face for a reaction. "It's why you fainted, isn't it? You couldn't handle it."

I let his words sink in, trying to analyse logically what he'd just said to me. I was shaking. I felt so happy I wanted to dance down the road. He couldn't stop thinking about me! Me? Plain, sceptical little me. But the rational part of my head was screaming at me to ignore these emotions: He will hurt you. He'll get bored. And most importantly...something is wrong here. This guy makes you sick.

I forced my voice to go cold. "Nice line," I said. "Bet you use it on all the girls."

His face screwed up in what could only be described as pain. "You've got to be kidding me!"

"Did you honestly think I was stupid enough to fall for that?" I made my voice harder. "I'm not one of your groupies, you know."