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“The event is this way,” one of the men says, and gestures to the deck.

I feel like I’ve landed on another planet.

There are all these white benches, tables laid out with buckets of ice, heaving with bottles of vodka and all sorts of mixers.

There are more men in cute suits, holding silver trays, brandishing drinks.

I grab one that’s the exact same colour as the ocean, and look around, hoping that Madison and Layla might have arrived on an earlier dinghy.

No such luck. I don’t know anyone. And everyone on this boat looks like they belong here.

The girls are all in white bikinis, or white swimsuits with legs cut so high I don’t know how they don’t have a permanent wedgie.

The men are either in Speedos, so Sebastian clearly knew what he was doing, or navy blue shorts, with white shirts buttoned open to reveal tanned six-packs.

There’s not one ounce of fat on anyone in this boat and I feel grateful for my new, gym-honed frame.

And yet, a part of me still wishes my sarong was that little bit bigger.

It’s funny, isn’t it? Even when we’ve hardly any clothes on you can tell who was born rich, and who wasn’t.

Their tans are from summers in Ibiza, winters catching the rays off the snow, mine is from a bottle.

Their bodies are pilates-toned, sleek and chic, with maybe a bit of chemical assistance, mine is from kettlebells and shakes and while it may be toned, it certainly isn’t that supposed heroin-chic that some of the models draped around the yacht seem to be going for.

I look at Sebastian nodding hello to everyone, and concentrate on just soaking it all in.

I try to stay cool, not goggling at the two hot tubs overlooking the ocean that are full of proper bona fide stars, or the people very openly scoping out the guests for whoever they think is the most famous or influential.

I don’t like him but I realise, after scanning all the faces and returning to Sebastian, he’s all I’ve got.

Where are you girls, I think. I need you to liven the place up with me, I very much doubt any of these ladies have diamantes in their bikini bottoms. Plus they all seem to be trying incredibly hard to look incredibly bored, like it’s not cool to have fun or admit you’re impressed by anything.

If Mads was with me, she’d be grinning from ear to ear and nabbing the best hot-tub. I feel my phone vibrate. It’s Layla.

I’m shitting myself.

I text back quickly.

Don’t be nervous. Yacht is amazing. You’ll love it.

I snap a quick pic and send it over and Layla replies instantly.

No, I’m ACTUALLY shitting myself. I should have known not to have prawns. There’s no way I can make it to the yacht. Sorry babes.

As I wonder when Mads is going to show my phone pings again.

Oh my god, I won’t make it either, I know, I’m sorry but, argh can’t type right now, it’ll be worth it when I tell you. Mxxx

Damn, I look at Sebastian, who grins at me. “First time on a yacht?”

“No, I’m on them all the time.”

“Oh really? Didn’t think they had many yachts up…” He struggles to remember where I’m from and wrinkles his nose. “North.”

I won’t give him the satisfaction of correcting him, or tell him that when I was tiny, I thought I wanted to be a marine biologist (before a crab pinched my toe in the sea at Whitby and I changed my mind).

For all I care, he can assume I’ve never seen the sea before, I don’t need to impress him.

“No, no I’ve never been on a yacht before. ”

I’m being spiky. I know I am. Normally, if a man with such a fine body was talking to me, I’d be nicer.

A lot nicer. But this is Sebastian. From Born In Buckinghamshire .

He’s the enemy. Any minute now his comrades with their swishy hair and old money will arrive and begin making barbed comments about how they’ve seen my vagina on TV.

Which wasn’t even my fault. The producers should have blurred it out in editing, but someone forgot. Anyway, it’s a damn nice vagina.

“None of your lot coming, then?”

He shakes his head. “They were meant to, but they were invited on another yacht. Something to do with Chad Schmidt apparently.”

“There I was thinking there was no way anything could top this!” I say.

“Don’t be sarcastic, it doesn’t suit you.”

“I wasn’t being sarcastic! Look around, this boat is incredible!”

“Oh right, I would have thought being alone with me, stranded at sea, would be your worst nightmare.”

“It would be…but there’s vodka here.” I down my blue drink. “Another?”

Five blue things later and Sebastian and I can’t stop laughing, though I have no idea what at.

Everyone else on the boat talks about posh things, like investments or polo, and every now and then one of them will come over to speak to Sebastian and I have to just zone them out, as really it’s like listening to another language.

Also, the more blue things I have, the better Sebastian looks in those Speedos.

His body really is carved . I’ve also checked out his bulge, quite a few times (hopefully subtly but, to be honest, I’m not sure).

I also have a feeling he might be into me, too.

A few times our legs have touched and he’s not recoiled.

Also, his friends did eventually arrive, and they keep waving him over so he easily could have abandoned me for them ages ago, but he’s still here.

“It’s dead nice of you to stay with me, you know, you didn’t have to do that,” I say quietly, and he has to move closer to hear me. Our bodies are now touching. He grabs one shoulder, pulling me even closer.

“I’m loving this, you’re so much fun, Angelica.

” I sense we might kiss in that moment, but when we look up, one of the girls from Born In Buckinghamshire is standing above us.

“Uhh umm,” she clears her throat loudly and Sebastian jumps away from me.

I’m trying to remember her name and whether she’s ever been involved with Sebastian before.

Confession time: I’ve not really watched much of BiB, I just find it hard to invest in any of their antics as they don’t seem to have fun like we do, but I have seen headlines about Sebastian, and everything I’ve seen or heard about him, I don’t like.

“Angelica, this is Arabella,” Sebastian says, and even though I tap the seat beside me, inviting her to sit down, she remains standing and quite literally looking down on us. “Ara,” she says. “For short.”

I want to ask her, why not Bella, but decide against it in case it would sound rude. I really shouldn’t have bothered, as with her entire body angled towards Sebastian, resting herself in between his open legs, she whispers something in his ear: “I see you found cattle class.”

“Excuse me, I heard that,” I say, tapping her on the shoulder.

She turns around and casts me a withering look. “Well, you weren’t meant to.”

“I did and that’s not an apology.” I glare at Sebastian, expecting him to take my side. He just remains quiet. Absolute pussy!

“Now ladies, no need to get antsy,” he simply says.

“Who’s getting antsy?” I say, admittedly louder than normal.

Our (very minor) altercation has attracted a crowd and a few more of Sebastian’s friends come over, hovering within earshot.

Not all of them are from Born In Buckinghamshire but I know when I’ve been outnumbered.

Both the lads and the girls are giggling and saying things to each other behind their hands.

I’d already felt left out on this yacht but now I feel completely isolated.

I know I have a couple of options, I could burst into tears (tempting but I don’t want to look pathetic), grab ‘Ara’ by her hair and drag her into the pool (even more tempting, but I know I’d be giving them what they wanted…

Thank goodness I’ve not drunk any whiskey, that’s my anger juice) or I could storm off.

I decide the last one gives me the most dignity, but where to? I’m in the middle of the ocean.

I stand up. “I thought you were all meant to have been raised with manners, it’s horrible to treat someone like this,” I say, before stabbing my finger in Sebastian’s chest. To think I was this close to kissing him.

“And you should be ashamed of yourself, you called all of this lot boring See You Next Tuesdays earlier and now look at you.”

With that I wobble off in my wedges, only stumbling a few times. As far as dignity goes, I think I’ve maintained it. Now, I just need to not look back and head to my failsafe napping place. The loos. I can sleep off the vodka there until the boat docks again.

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