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“Prone to let themselves get filmed covered in vomit? Bruises?” I point out the scatter of purple marks up my leg, caused by falling over in heels I’m definitely not equipped to walk in.

“No…beautiful. I always wanted to be with someone who would make me laugh as much as you do. Remember the original unscreenable moment?”

I hide my head in my hands. Partly to hide how much I’m blushing, but also because that evening truly was unscreenable. “Yes! Don’t remind me!”

That was one of the things that had surprised me.

They filmed us round the clock but the bits they cut out weren’t always what I thought were the most outrageous – but they were sometimes the most natural.

Like the weekend where everyone in the house got food poisoning. That was messy on a whole other level.

Gerald told us later that the TV channel had deemed the scenes too extreme to screen to the public.

As if every single viewer at home didn’t have the same bodily functions we all do.

I’m just glad I can be honest about mine.

Still, I hadn’t ever imagined that would be what someone said they liked me for…

“I’d noticed I couldn’t stop filming you from the very first day. I kept bringing my camera back to you – I convinced myself it was because you were TV gold. But that day, it just became so clear you were so different from anyone else I’ve ever met before—”

“Because I almost broke a world record sprinting to the loo?” I can almost hear what Madison would have to say about all this, she’d be screeching, “what if he has some sort of weird bathroom fetish?” while cackling.

“No, not that particular element,” Leo laughs.

“But just the way you responded to it, you don’t let the stupid stuff get to you.

You laugh it off. You get knocked down but you get back up.

You enjoy life. And now, seeing your family, and how hard you love and how loyal you are to the people you care about, I can admit.

I wasn’t just filming you – I was falling for you. ”

“Anyone would have done the same given the opportunities I got,” I say. “I’ve just had a lucky break.”

“You’re not just anyone, Angelica. And it’s not all down to luck. It takes a mad, heartfelt kind of courage to be true to yourself, like you are. It may not be rescue-someone-from-an-avalanche or cross-a-waterfall-in-a-barrel brave, but it’s brave all the same. You’ve made your own luck.”

I can feel myself melting into the sofa.

It’s all so perfect. Well, apart from the food poisoning memory, but I guess that’s a blessing, after all, because when you love someone they see all sides of you.

Poo and all. The amount of times Mam’s had some bug and Dad’s been there for her, as she sobbed on the toilet.

Loving someone, even when they’re at their most disgusting, their most feral, that’s truly romantic. That’s what makes things last.

“There’s just one thing though, Angelica,” and there’s something in the way his tone shifts that’s unsettling.

When discussing me, it was light as candy-floss, like pink clouds before the sun sets.

Now, it’s gruffer, heavier, darker. I know what’s coming.

“Damon. You don’t have to pretend you don’t still want him because of what I’ve said just now.

I’ve watched you two from behind the lens for weeks.

I know you care about him. A lot. And if you’ll forgive me saying it, a lot more than he deserves.

But it doesn’t matter what he’s done. You still have feelings for him. ”

It’s not a question, but a factual statement. Like he’s just placed a contract down in front of me, or a maths equation that was already solved.

“No, it’s, it’s…” I want to deny it but he’s shaking his head.

I’ve not said anything yet and already he doesn’t believe me.

But I don’t know what to say. It’s complicated?

We’re not a Facebook status! That feels just so weak.

How can I say: I know I shouldn’t still like Damon.

How every cell in my body, knows that the way we’re going, the way he’s going, is not in a good direction.

Sometimes I feel like I am just testing how many times he can break my heart, as though I’d rip it out of my own chest, place it in his hands and say ‘here you go, do your worst.’ But, in some ways, it’s all been worth it – every tear shed, the screaming, all of it – for the moment when he does look my way, smile and say “Angelica, there’s no one on this earth that can make me laugh like you do. ”

“Your loyalty to the ones you love is the best thing about you,” Leo says, as I still scramble for words.

“But some people don’t deserve that loyalty, or love.

They see it as an opportunity for them to be vile, and cruel, safe in the knowledge you’ll still forgive them.

They’ll suck the sunshine out of you and use it for themselves. ”

“I know Damon can seem like a bit of prick sometimes. But he doesn’t mean a lot of what he does,” I say. “He’s all bravado, and underneath it all…”

Hurt crosses Leo’s face, but I don’t know why.

After all, isn’t this what he expects of me?

To defend Damon, at all costs? I’m trying to be honest with Leo – isn’t that what he said he liked about me?

And if I’m honest with myself, part of me is defending Damon to show that I’ve not been a total fool, that there’s a reason why I’ve stuck around for so long.

I don’t want to admit the rest of it to Leo, though.

That with all his openness and ability to just say nice things without twisting the knife, well, Leo scares me.

I think part of me wants Damon because it’s like the producers have known all along: we weren’t made for each other, but we were cast for each other.

Two party animals, the pair of us not able to believe we’d been given a chance to grab celebrity and get a taste of the high life just by doing what we loved to do anyway – drinking, dancing, shagging and laughing about it all so hard that it feels like nothing else matters.

But now the cameras have stopped filming, I’ve been wondering if Damon and I are on separate paths.

It’s like the fame is what he craves most of all – I’m just a stepping stone to it.

Whereas when I was in the house, when I was falling for him, it was the other way round – all the fame and attention, the nights out and all the rest – they felt like a way to secure what I really wanted, my happy ever after.

And what’s worse is I can’t tell Leo that, and I definitely can’t tell him that I worry he’s too nice for me, that for all his caring, honest, chivalrous gestures, he’d wake up one day and grow bored of me and my loud and proud ways.

What if I’m just a curiosity to him? He said he’s never met anyone like me before…

and there’s probably a reason why that is: we’re from different worlds.

As all this whirls through my mind, I realise I’ve been silent.

“You’re going to keep doing this, I know.” Once again, Leo sounds so certain. “I’m not sure I can put myself in a situation where I can see the future so clearly. Us being happy and then him clicking his fingers and you running, scampering back.”

That annoys me. I’ve got a weakness for Damon, I’ll admit, but I’m not his pet, I don’t do everything he says. “That’s not true!”

“It is, Angelica, you know it, I know it, Damon knows it and…about a million viewers know it too.”

“If I’m such a stupid little doormat then why did you come here? Why did you kiss me? Why did you say all this nice stuff to me only to snatch it back again?”

“Because I…” he falters. “I couldn’t not.

I knew you’d be hurting and I hated that.

I missed you. I wanted to see you. And I was so furious about the prospect of you losing your house that I had to do something.

I thought that maybe, that would be enough.

But then, at the Angel, when I saw you gazing up at it, away from all this media circus, I knew I wouldn’t be leaving this weekend without saying something.

But the kiss? And, well, yes the best sex I’ve ever had?

None of that was planned, Angelica. I had to kiss you.

I had to hold you. But this Damon thing.

It has to pass before anything else can happen between us.

I know it will. I may not look like a TV heart throb but I’m a confident man, I can wait.

I just hope, for your sake, you wake up to who he really is, soon.

Before he tears your heart, and your glorious self-worth into pieces. ”

He stands up, kisses me on the forehead and says, “See you soon, pal.” Then he’s out the door.

I’m left alone, on the sofa, in the house he saved for me, completely head-spun.

Should I chase him? Tell him he’s wrong?

I can’t do that. As, despite my protestations, there’s something true about what Leo just said.

He’s right about Damon, I keep swallowing down his lies, again and again, and coming back for more.

I’m addicted, even if I know he’s poisoning me. But I can’t seem to stop.

* * *