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‘That’s quite literally the opposite of loyalty,’ I point out with a laugh. ‘Anyway, thank you for inviting me, but now the match is over, and my work is done, it’s time for me to go.’

‘You’re sure?’ he checks.

‘I’m sure,’ I reply.

‘I need to get out of these muddy shorts.’

‘Then I definitely need to leave,’ I tell him – with a giggle that betrays me.

‘See you at the final then… probably,’ he says.

‘Probably,’ I reply. ‘Bye.’

I open the door.

‘Bye,’ he calls after me. ‘If you’re certain you need to go…’

I just laugh and leave anyway, because I do need to go, don’t I? There’s still a small part of me that thinks I shouldn’t have come at all. But, to be honest with you, there’s also a small part of me that wants to stay.

16

It’s funny, because I’ve watched so many videos of Eddy Hood playing and training this week that I feel as though I have seen him constantly – despite not actually seeing him at all.

You won’t be surprised to hear that the Lions won their semi at the weekend, meaning it’s going to be a Leeds vs Manchester Grand Final. The team are preparing for the final at their training grounds, not the stadium where I’m based, so I’m working with footage that is sent to me, not footage I’m capturing myself.

The final is traditionally held at a football stadium in Liverpool, which makes the whole thing feel even more important. I’ve seen photographs of previous years: tens of thousands of people, flags, fireworks, players walking out in a stadium much bigger than any of them are used to. Even without understanding every technical detail of rugby league, I get that this is not just another match. It’s the match. Plus, it’s the end of the season, so this is what it’s all been for – and although it won’t be Eddy and Jamie’s last game of the year, it will be the last one where they’re on opposite sides.

Someone from the media team has been going to the training ground every day to capture footage, then sending it back for me to edit.

I’ve spent my days turning hours of footage into short videos, with different captions, for different platforms, some serious, some silly – whatever I can think of, to build up a buzz on the socials. I’m also editing and posting lots of clips from my time at the arcade with Eddy and Jamie. I know that I was there, but watching it back, it really is fascinating, seeing how they looked at each other, their body language, hearing the things they said, trying to unpack them.

I haven’t spoken to Eddy properly since we visited his family. I wasn’t there, when they played their semi, but it was an away game anyway. I suppose I could have gone but, I don’t know, I guess I didn’t want to put him off? Particularly if he felt any sort of way about me going to Jamie’s game, I thought that would be a conversation best reserved for after his big game – but before his next, I suppose. Then again, he might not even be bothered.

We’ve swapped a few messages about work, here and there, but, I don’t know, I don’t feel like I’m getting much from him. He replied to one of the messages with a thumbs-up emoji, and usually anyone doing that (apart from dads all over the world) is being passive-aggressive – I know that’s the only reason I use it.

I even sent him a congratulations message, after they won, and do you know what he replied?

Thanks.

That’s it, just ‘thanks’, no kiss, no emoji – nothing. Not that I expect a kiss or anything, but generally speaking, they give messages a little something to lighten the tone. I shouldn’t be deep-diving into the spelling and grammar of a man I’m not actually dating, though. That’s madness. Still, it feels strange not seeing him.

I know he is busy. Training for a final is presumably more important than hanging around the stadium pretending to fancy me, and there really is no good reason for us to spend time together unless somebody needs convincing.

I definitely think we’ve sold the story well enough though. People at the club no longer ask questions. His family believe it. Jamie questions it, but why I’m with Eddy, rather than if it’s true.

It’s not a real relationship, so it doesn’t need relationship maintenance… so why do I feel like I miss him? Not desperately, I’m not pining for him or anything, but just in a simple way – I feel his absence.

I miss seeing him skulking around. I miss the way his face changes slightly before he smiles, like he is trying not to give me the satisfaction. I miss the dry comments and sarcastic jokes and the feeling that I have really earned something whenever I successfully manage to make him laugh.

I miss how easy it felt, when we were baking, before I ruined it by saying I was leaving to go see Jamie. Now I’m starting to worry that I – inadvertently – made it seem like I was choosing Jamie over him.

I close my laptop and look at the clock. It is nearly eight. Time to go home – and by home, I mean up to my room.

I’ve spent the whole day in the media office, stopping only to collect lunch from the café over the road and attend a meeting about sponsors that probably could have been an email for me. Everyone else left hours ago, but living upstairs has completely destroyed my ability to tell when the working day ends.

In my room, I change into trackies and an old hoodie, take off my make-up and then eat my dinner (a burger and fries) sitting beside the window. Outside, the stadium is dark and empty. Without the pitch lights and the crowds, it looks peaceful, almost unreal. Sometimes it feels hard to imagine it full of people and chaos.

I am just about to open a bag of chocolate buttons – the dessert of champions – when I hear a knock on my door.