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Is it? Surely everything is? But the question is, is it smart? I think it is.

‘I’d do it,’ I tell him. ‘If you’ve been on thin ice, if you want to show England – and Leeds – that you’re all in.’

He sighs.

‘All right, yeah, fine,’ he says. ‘I’ll do it.’

There is something so amusing about watching a man who spends his career being repeatedly hit by other enormous men react with genuine dread to the possibility of being asked to complete a social media challenge.

‘I’ll be gentle,’ I tell him.

He laughs. It isn’t a big laugh, and I’m beginning to realise nothing about Eddy is particularly big apart from, well, Eddy. His reactions are always restrained. A slight smile. A low laugh. One raised eyebrow that somehow manages to say so much without a word to go with it. So far him smacking Ron is the most emotion I’ve seen from him – but given their history, I’ll bet he’s been waiting for the chance.

As I feel my stomach rumble, I realise that it is nearly six o’clock and I haven’t made any plans for dinner. The thought of going back to my room and scrolling through the same takeaway options is more depressing than it should be. I think the novelty is starting to wear off a little now.

There is a Thai place in Headingley that I’ve been meaning to try, but they’re not on Deliveroo, and eating alone in a restaurant requires a particular kind of confidence – one that makes it seem like you’ve chosen your own company, rather than defaulted to it.

‘What are you doing now?’ I ask him before I can think it through.

Eddy glances at his watch.

‘I’ve got a family thing,’ he says plainly.

‘Oh. Okay, cool, well, I won’t keep you,’ I babble. ‘I’ll send you details for tomorrow, yeah?’

Shit, I hope I didn’t sound too disappointed, because I’m not disappointed. Why would I be disappointed? I only asked because I need to eat and he is a person who presumably eats.

‘Yeah, let me know where to be,’ he says. ‘Have a good evening.’

‘Thanks,’ I reply.

I head back towards the door, to get back into the hotel, telling myself I am relieved he has plans. Why on earth was I going to ask him out to dinner? Because a select few people think we’re a couple? If there’s no one to perform for, it just makes me feel deluded. I think I’m just sick of eating dinner alone in my room, that’s all.

Yes, Eddy is nice. Very nice, actually, beneath all the grunting and enormous shoulders, but there is a clear line between us and I don’t want to seem like I’m misunderstanding that.

I let myself into the hotel and take the lift, despite recent evidence that this is an unreliable method of transportation sometimes, although I’m assured it’s fixed now.

I make it to my floor unscathed.

The corridor is always quiet. The carpet has one of those swirly patterns designed to disguise suspicious stains and make you think you’re having a migraine – I think they’re the law in all hotels – and the lights are low, probably also to hide stains and wear, but it gives the place an oddly sexy vibe.

I am halfway to my room when a door opens ahead of me. Shit, it’s Jamie.

‘We meet again,’ he says with a smile.

He is wearing black joggers and a white T-shirt, and his hair looks slightly damp, as though he has just showered.

‘Are you stalking me?’ he asks.

‘I was about to ask you the same thing,’ I reply.

‘I’m staying here tonight,’ he tells me. ‘Apparently you’re torturing me tomorrow. I don’t think they believed I’d show up in the morning if I wasn’t already here. Are you here to start torturing me now?’

‘Actually, I live here,’ I tell him.

He waits for the punchline. When it doesn’t arrive, his smile fades into confusion.

‘You live in the hotel?’