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Tonight, the boys are in suits. Not just the Lions, every team in the league, and it’s low-key overwhelming, because everyone looks so good.

The men are wearing tailored suits with polished shoes, crisp white shirts and bow ties, while the ladies are all in ball gowns.

The Rugby League Awards is a black-tie event, held in the ballroom of a huge five-star hotel in central Manchester, and I am here as a member of Leeds Lions staff, technically. Bryan has given me a seat at the club’s table, because I have spent the last few weeks working hard on their publicity, but I’m also here as Eddy’s date.

‘A little closer, please,’ a photographer tells Eddy and me as she takes our photo.

I am already close. So close I can smell his aftershave.

‘That’s perfect,’ the photographer says as we find a way to get even closer.

It’s so strange, seeing him dressed up like this. He looks good – really good. He should wear suits more often, but I don’t think they’re ideally suited for tackling other men in. For me, it would be perfect.

I’ve been trying not to stare at him since I got here, but it’s not easy, because… wow.

‘Look at each other,’ another photographer calls.

Somehow, the eye contact is harder to bear than the physical contact, because looking at a camera gives me something inanimate to focus on, but looking into Eddy’s eyes feels far too intimate.

‘You all right?’ he asks quietly.

‘Oh, I’m great,’ I insist.

‘You look nervous.’

‘The last time I wore a nice dress, it got ripped off me,’ I joke.

‘I promise to keep my hands to myself tonight,’ he replies.

Devastating news.

Since the final, the photograph of Eddy lifting me has popped up in a few places, people asking who his girlfriend is, some saying they wish they were me. If only they knew the truth. I feel like people are staring at me, now people know Eddy and I are a thing, so I’m trying to blend into the background.

The ballroom is enormous, with round tables arranged around a raised stage and enormous screens displaying highlights from the season. Everything is gold, black and white – the league colours.

There are little name cards in each place, alongside a menu for the evening. I try not to look at it right away, to at least appear cool, but I’m starving.

Bryan is already seated with several club directors and players, his bow tie slightly wonky even though the evening has just begun. He notices we’ve sat down and says hi.

Glancing around the room, I spot that Jamie is seated two tables away, with his Manchester teammates. I say ‘spot’, but I was looking for him.

He is wearing a black tuxedo with a proper bow tie. His hair is neatly cut, his jaw freshly shaved. He’s laughing at something one of his teammates is saying. There’s no way he can tell that I’m looking at him, and yet his gaze meets mine after a few seconds. He lifts a glass in my direction. I smile back, just as Eddy notices.

‘Royle looks pleased with himself,’ he says.

‘He’s still buzzing from the win,’ Latu, one of Eddy’s teammates, says. ‘You know Jamie.’

We do. And now that chatter about Eddy’s try has died down a little, it’s like his smugness can thrive and grow.

Dinner begins after a short welcome speech from the league’s chief executive.

The starter is a smoked salmon salad, which I love, followed by roast beef with vegetables. It’s all delicious, but delicate – aka tiny.

As the waiter replenishes the breadbasket, pretty much all the players on our table reach for a roll at the same time. It makes me smile.

There are awards for young player, coach and community work. People make speeches thanking their teammates, partners, clubs and parents.

The final awards begin after dessert and coffee, and this one is the big one.