Emma: Do you know I've never been abroad?
Dexter: What? Don't be ridiculous.
Emma: It's true. Fortnight in a caravan in Whitby drinking Cup-a-Soup with Dad and trying not to kill Mum. I can't believe I'm actually here with you.
Emma: When we were at university, before we spoke even, I had a crush on you. Yeah Ridiculous, I know. But when we almost did it that night, I couldn't believe it. I wrote poems and everything. What have you got to say to that?
Dexter: Well, I already knew.
Emma: What do you mean, you knew?
Dexter: Well, I sort of guessed. All those epic letters and compilation tapes. So, go on then. What happened?
Emma: Mmm. I got to know you. You cured me of you.
Dexter: I'd still like to read those poems. What rhymes with Dexter?
Emma: Prick. It's a half-rhyme. Too much wine. We should go.
Dexter: No, no, no. Not yet. Not yet. Listen, let's go for a walk. So this is it.
Emma: It's lovely. Hello? What's going on here?
Dexter: Well, I thought we'd go for a quick swim. Sober us up.
Emma: Ah, I get it. I get it. I've walked right into it, haven't I? You get a girl drunk and lead her to a large body of water.
Dexter: Oh, come on, Em. Be spontaneous. Be reckless. Live for the moment! Come on, Em. Get in!
Dexter: You're such a prude. Why are you such a prude? Look, come on!
Emma: You could at least leave your underpants on. Rule number three, remember?
Dexter: Come on.
(Emma jumps into the water)
Emma: So this is skinny-dipping? What am I meant to do? Sort of lark about? Splash you or something? That's a very serious face. You're not having a wee, are you?
Dexter: No. No, I just wanted to say that I felt the same. After our near-miss. I mean, I didn't write poems or anything. I'm not insane. But, you know, I thought about you. I think about you. You and me.
Emma: Really? Really? Okay, well... Dex...
Dexter: The problem is I fancy pretty much everyone.
Emma: Oh. I see.
Dexter: I mean anyone. Really, I mean, it's like I've just got out of prison, all the time. It's a real problem.
Emma: I can imagine.
Dexter: Yeah, and this thing with Ingrid, it's a sex thing. It's just sex, sex, sex, sex, sex.
Emma: The point's been made, Dex.
Dexter: But me and you, it would be different. I think we'd want different things, and I don't think I'm ready, you know. If you wanted to, you know, have a bit of fun, holiday fling, no obligations. Oh, God. I'll take that as a no then, shall I?
Emma: I think so. I think our moment's passed.
Dexter: Come on, I'm not expressing myself clearly.
Emma: No, no, you are, Dex. That's the problem. You're worried I might care.
Dexter: Hey! Hey, Come back here! Come back, you little... Hey! Thieves! Come back. Come back here. Wait! They've stolen my clothes! You little... Will someone call the police? Wait! Come back! Could you please stop laughing and do something to help? Armani, that suit was. The little frogs even took my underpants.
Dexter: No, Calvin Klein.
Emma: Oh, Dex, I'm so sorry.
Dexter: Little French bastards!
Emma: They took your plimsolls, too.
Dexter: They're not plimsolls. I've never worn plimsolls in my life. They were penny loafers, and I bloody loved them! What? It's not funny. I'm a victim of crime here.
Emma: Your Calvin Klein underpants. I'll find them. I swear to you, I shall track them down.
Dexter: Go to sleep. I wonder how many rules we broke.
Emma: All of them. Except Scrabble.
Dexter: Tomorrow, maybe.