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He takes a handful of unused tokens from the pot and heads for the machine.

‘Come on.’

I stay where I am.

‘But you’re off the hook, you can go, we’re done…’ I remind him.

‘We can be done after this,’ he says. ‘Come on, it was your idea.’

‘And now I’m regretting it,’ I say with a chuckle. ‘Ah, okay, fine, but it’s going to be embarrassing.’

‘Embarrassment is nothing but a barrier that you make for yourself,’ he muses. ‘Why don’t you see what’s waiting for you on the other side, when you smash through it?’

Wow. Okay. I can’t say no to a pep talk like that, can I?

He extends a hand to pull me up onto the machine.

I move closer and take it, letting him help me onto the platform.

The machine asks us to choose a song. Eddy scrolls through the options with the buttons beneath his feet.

‘Nothing too difficult,’ I say.

‘You said you loved it…’

‘I also loved dipping my chips in my ice cream, but I’ve grown out of that,’ I joke – I mostly have.

The countdown begins. Three. Two. One. Time to embarrass myself.

The first arrows rise towards the top of the screen. I hit the correct one. Then the next. But then I step left when I should step right, struggle to correct myself and almost collide with Eddy.

He laughs. Not his usual quiet laugh though, a real, proper laugh – the kind that can only come from, dare I say it, having fun.

Eddy is good. Not professional-dancer good, obviously, but he clearly remembers how to play the game, and I suppose you have to be coordinated to be a sportsman – fit too. I’m absolutely shattered.

I jump onto the wrong arrow and bump into his arm, so he steadies me with one hand at my waist, barely breaking rhythm. The contact sends a rush of heat through me that has nothing to do with the exercise my body is not at all used to.

‘Careful,’ he warns me with a smile.

For once, there is no tension in his shoulders and no restraint in his expression. He is just a man standing on a dance machine, pleased with himself because he’s dominating at a game that he used to play when he was a kid.

Eddy catches my eye. I smile. He smiles back.

It feels like ages since Jamie was here with us, like his kiss on my cheek is a distant memory. All I can think about is Eddy, his hand on my waist, the way he’s looking at me. See, this is why fake relationships are a terrible idea, because your brain knows it isn’t real, but your body doesn’t quite get the memo. Stupid body, thinking this is real. Still, it’s hard not to enjoy it, so maybe it’s okay to get carried away, just a little, just for today.

14

Another day, another phone call waking me from my lie-in on a Saturday. Ugh, why does this always happen when I’m trying to snooze? I mean, what else do I have to do today but sleep? I’m starting to feel oddly isolated here at the hotel. I suppose because it doesn’t really feel public. There aren’t people moving around; there’s no one to chat to at breakfast or in the bar.

I slap my hand against the bed, feeling for my phone. It must be in here somewhere – I think I fell asleep watching reels again. I’m not going to answer it though, fuck that, I’m going to silence it. See if I can get back to sleep, although, typically and ironically, if I don’t have to get up, I usually find it impossible.

Then I see it’s Eddy calling me and I jolt awake, answering quickly, sounding like a frog because my vocal cords aren’t awake yet.

‘Hello,’ I say – or rather, I croak.

‘Morning,’ Eddy says. ‘I hope I didn’t wake you.’

‘Nah, I’ve been up ages,’ I insist, sitting upright, trying to convince all the parts of my body that we are, in fact, awake.