<span style="font-weight: bold">Samantha Belweather</span><br/><br/>The waitress smirked at me, and rolled her eyes slightly. I replied with a one-shoulder shrug, and a curling smile from one corner of my lips. Jules was<span style="font-style: italic">sweet</span>- how else, for dessert - and if he was a little naive,<span style="font-style: italic">I</span>didn’t think him completely hopeless.<br/><br/>“Of course,” the waitress tells Jules, “if you would please sign,” she continues, passing over a pen whilst indicating the appropriate place.