This is the story of how he changed everything.

I’d never had much interest in men. Or women, for that matter. I was twenty-one years old, single, a virgin, and my parents were getting worried.

“When will you find a nice man, Belle?” my mum asked on the other end of the phone. I was unpacking boxes as I’d just moved into a new apartment. It wasn’t a regular, boring apartment; it was surprisingly bright and colourful. Like something out of a kids’ TV show.

I look back on how I thought that now and laugh.

“I just haven’t met the right person yet,” I sighed. I had signed up to a dating website, but after the millionth dick pic I was about to give up. I seemed to like the blokes until I remembered what was between their legs. Urgh. How do women like that? There must have been something wrong with me.

“I just want you to find true love,” Mum said. “Is that too much to ask?”

God, I hated this conversation. “I have to go,” I said, and hung up. And then, carefully, I opened another cardboard box with a pair of scissors, excited about what was inside.

“Now this is true love,” I said as I breathed in the amazing scent. Balloons. The only thing I’d ever been attracted to. I felt the latex in my fingers and it made me tremble. I would’ve blown one up right there and then, but I had a lot of unpacking to do.

After a few hours – and way too many cardboard boxes (how the hell did I have so much stuff?) – I decided to go for a walk. Get to know my new neighbourhood. I came across this little café on the corner. Anil’s. Looked like a bit of a greasy spoon, but I was frigging starving, so I went inside.

“I’ll just get a cup of tea and a cheese sandwich,” I said to the guy at the counter, who I assumed must be Anil. After paying for my lunch I went to sit down, only to trip over one of the chair legs and fall over.

Into the hands of him.

Or paws, should I say. Because it was a fox. In human clothing. Which was kind of cute.

I guess that’s what started it.

My food and drink had gone everywhere.

“I’m so sorry,” the little guy said.

“It’s fine,” I replied.

“No, it’s not. Let me replace those for you. I’m Basil, by the way. Basil Brush.”

“I- I’m Belle,” I stuttered.

“Nice to meet you, Miss Belle.”

Miss Belle. Why did I find that hot? I never found anything hot. Except balloons.

“What was it?” Basil asked.

“Cheese toastie and a cup of tea,” I replied.

He replaced my lunch. And I was right, the guy’s name was Anil – or Mr Anil. Basil obviously did that with everyone.

“Now, I must go,” he said. “My friends are having a party and I’m helping them set up.”

Holy frigging shit.

My heart could’ve gave out. I’d never thought of anyone else blowing up a balloon in that way before, but this felt different.

I would’ve given anything to be at that party. But I had a lot more unpacking to do.

Still, I knew what I wanted. And I had a plan.

I went back to the café and saw Basil again a few days later. We chatted for a bit, and he was so funny and kind. And I had no idea what had happened to me.

Somehow I got invited over to his apartment, which happened to be directly below mine. And on that day, there happened to be an uninflated red balloon in my handbag.

Ok, when I say ‘there happened to be’ ... I mean I totally put it there on purpose.

“So...” I said as we sat down for tea and biscuits. “How was the party?” That’s it, Belle, keep it casual.

“Not too bad,” he replied. “Shame you couldn’t make it.”

You have no idea, I thought to myself, smiling.

It was now or never. I unzipped my bag and put my hand – my trembling, shaking hand – inside and grabbed the balloon. It took a while for me to get the courage to actually bring it out. God, this was the most nerve-wracking thing that had ever happened in my entire life.