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‘We were friends at school,’ I explain. ‘And, I don’t know, it’s almost like your old friendship can’t exist as a friendship in adulthood, but you’ll always have your childhood memories, and that keeps you tethered. We’re friends, but she’s not friendly.’

‘Why are you going?’ he asks.

‘Because that’s what you do, right? You keep hold of your old connections, and you turn up to shit, and you smile, and then you go home and thank God you’re not proper friends any more.’

He laughs again. I love making him laugh.

‘It’s just… it’s really going to suck, seeing how well she’s doing, admitting that I’m failing,’ I explain. ‘And, my gosh, if she finds out I’m living in a hotel…’

‘So she doesn’t know about me?’ he checks.

‘No – last she heard I had a boyfriend, who worked in rugby, and that was Ron,’ I reply.

He smiles at me.

‘Am I not your boyfriend who works in rugby?’ he checks.

‘I mean, yes, for the purposes of our arrangement,’ I reply. ‘But you didn’t sign up for conning my friends.’

‘You didn’t sign up for hanging out with my family,’ he reminds me. ‘I think I owe you.’

‘At some point our debt to one another must be paid in full,’ I say. ‘But, if you really don’t mind, I’m happy to claim this as my one final favour, I swear.’

‘Don’t get me wrong, your friend sounds horrible,’ he says plainly, always seeing things for how they are. ‘But I can go with you and I can be the model boyfriend. I’ll say and do whatever you want, see if we can’t make them all jealous – how does that sound?’

‘Incredible,’ I blurt. ‘You’d really do that for me?’

‘You’ve been clipping videos to make me look great all week,’ he replies. ‘Let me try to help you.’

‘The boyfriend edit,’ I tell him. ‘But – no pun intended – you’re so out of my league. Will they believe it?’

‘Brooke, unless we are talking rugby, I am not out of your league,’ he insists.

That’s exactly what someone out of my league would say.

‘It’s the week after the Grand Final,’ I point out.

‘Then I’ll be free, won’t I?’ he replies.

‘Then I’d love for you to come with me, thank you,’ I say.

We finish up our drinks before he says goodnight. I feel like I’ll sleep better, just for knowing he doesn’t hate me. Plus, even if he isn’t my boyfriend, it’s nice to know that he’s there for me, even when he doesn’t need to be.

I smile as I think about walking into Tina’s new house with Eddy alongside me. Imagine her face – and Ann’s and Jaz’s. I wonder if they really do think I’m making up having a boyfriend. I am now, obviously, but I wasn’t when I told them about Ron. Even if they’re not rugby fans, if they’ve never heard of Eddy, it won’t matter. Look at him, he’s hot, fit, massive – he’d make anyone jealous. I know it’s petty, to want to score points against my friends, but what can I say? Working in rugby league has made me competitive.

17

The run-up to the Grand Final has felt endless – and yet here we are. Today’s the day.

The stadium is enormous. They opt for totally neutral ground, a football stadium – and I mean a proper, massive stadium, more than double the capacity of the Evergreen Stadium.

I’m in my seat, waiting for kick-off, looking out over two seas of fans – those in blue and yellow and those in red and black. The turnout is incredible.

While the Evergreen Stadium is made up of different stands and buildings, here, in Liverpool, you are fully enclosed, the chants bounce around between the walls, the ground feels like it’s vibrating beneath my feet. The whole place feels alive.

They have fireworks as the players come out. Crackling sparkles and loud pops that accompany blue smoke on one side, red on the other. There are two armies of small children holding huge flags on the pitch, one for each team. They wave them so they have a ripple effect as you look down on them. I can’t help but smile at the one kid who is holding the corner of one flag and pulling at it like he’s trying to tear it apart. An adult comes over, places a hand on his shoulder and presumably tells him to calm down.

Then the teams appear and the volume shoots up again.