It has been eight days since we landed in Ireland and started this weird fake relationship. The most dramatic eight days of my life.

In another seven days our friends will be married and all this will be over. We'll go back to normal life. I just can't see how that's meant to look - not now that I've felt all... this.

There are moments where Ollie and I are nothing but clinical, highlighting we really are practically strangers, and then there are moments where our chemistry seems to ooze between us.

There is never a moment where my stomach doesn't flip-flop at the sight of him. Even when he's been punched in the face by my ex-boyfriend for no reason.

It seems like this entire trip is about giving me as many heart palpitations as it can - I'm not sure at what point it's bordering a heart attack and I'll actively need to go to A&E.

Seriously, sometimes it feels like it's thrumming straight out of my chest. Stupid, weak, little heart that has me fighting the urge to fall at my feet whenever Ollie looks my way.

"Do you think it's bad we just left Dan and Niamh?"

"No," I say, looking at Ollie. Even with his bruised and swollen left eye, he looks so good. "You got punched in the face. We had to get some ice on it. Also, tell me that's not the best burger you've ever had."

Ollie chews thoughtfully, "It is a pretty good burger."

I bite, chew and shrug. "I pre-ordered taxi's to take everyone home anyway, so they'll be fine."

We are sat in Niamh's living room, eating a burger so perfect I'm yet to find one in London that comes close. I devour mine, but as I get to the last bite I can feel Ollie staring at me, I turn to him, unashamed. He sort of straightens and then, with a small smile, his eyes dart from mine to my lips and back again. It's lazy, slow and thoughtful.

"What?" I say, "Have I got sauce all around my lips?"

"No," He laughs, his eyes dancing. "You're beautiful. Perfect."

Beautiful. Perfect.

I stare blankly for a second, my mind completely devoid. Then, for some strange reason, I blurt out, "Do you need more ice for your eye?"

Ollie laughs, "You're not good with compliments."

The urge to hide hits me. He sees me. He sees too much. More than anyone else I've ever met. "That doesn't answer my question."

"I don't think it's going to swell anymore, do you?"

"I don't know. I'm really not good with these kinds of things."

Ollie shakes his head, "I can't believe I let the nitwit get me."

It's my turn to laugh, "Nitwit?"

He grins, "I can think of a thousand other things to call him but I didn't want to offend you."

"Offend me? I can always think of a few choice words I'd like to call him and that was before he punched you. Now I can think of a thousand things I'd like to call him, not one of them are kind."

Ollie reaches across and places a hand on my thigh, his thumb moving back and forth. He seems to like doing that. It's like he knows how it sets me alight. "Well, don't hold back because of me. I'd love to hear you call him a prick."

I focus on his hand, on his thumb, and suddenly my thoughts are scattered. I can just about remember what we were even talking about. How does a simple touch do so much to me? It's not normal and it's embarrassing. He should be calling me a nitwit.

I shake my head to focus but Ollie takes his hand away which distracts me once more. I watch as he picks up the last piece of his burger, eats it, and pushes the rest of the fries to me. I delicately take some and push the box back to him.

"What do you reckon," Ollie asks, "Do you think my black eye will ruin all the wedding pictures?"

"Oh." I say, "I hadn't even thought of that."

"Do you think they'll kick me out the wedding party?"

"If they kick you out but Paddy still gets to stay, I'm walking straight out with you."

He raises a fist to the air, "Solidarity."

My voice is soft when I say, "Always."

There's a beat between us, then he says, "Look, I need to tell you-"

But he doesn't get to finish because Niamh and Dan practically fall through the door. It's the second time this week my life has felt like a parody. It feels like I'm watching myself on a Netflix drama, as if this shouldn't be happening to me.

Am I to go to bed in a perpetual loop every night? I'll never know what he was going to tell me, and I'm always going to wonder.
and I hate cliffhangers.

Ollie shoots me an apologetic look as we watch them trip over each other. In unison we both get up to help them through the door. I suddenly wish I was as drunk as them. The way they're singing Irish songs and the lopsided grins on their faces tells me they had a good night.

"Hey!" Niamh squints at Ollie, her arm slung around his shoulder as he drags her to the sofa. Her veil is clinging on for dear life, hanging by one thread of her thick hair. "What happened to your face?"

"Paddy punched me." He grunts as he sets her down.

Luckily, Dan doesn't need as much help walking and I gently lead him to the sofa, placing him next to his betrothed. They both look so wrecked it's almost funny. I would be laughing, but they're looking at Ollie with such serious faces, as serious as they can muster.

This is not the time for laughter.

"He what?" Niamh demands.

"Punched me."

"Why?" She demands but doesn't let Ollie answer. "Jesus, Mary and Joseph. He's such a bastard. He's always been a bastard. His fadder was one too so I suppose the apple doesn't fall to far from the tree-" She suddenly stops and lets out a huge gasp, as if she's been gutted. I go to rush to her, then she says, "You're going to look like that in the wedding photos! I could KILL THAT NO GOOD BASTARD!"

"Darling," Dan slurs, "We're not killing anyone. Though I'm sure you've very capable of it."

At this, I do laugh.

But Niamh inexplicably bursts into tears. "He ruined my best friend, drove her away, and now he's ruined my wedding!"

Dan puts a reassuring hand on her shoulder, but follows it up with. "Sweetie, it isn't you who was punched in the face. It was Ollie."

I raise my hand to my mouth to cover my laughter because I don't want her first murder to be me. Ollie comes and stands by me and I can feel his shoulders shaking too. Now I'm glad I'm stone-cold-sober and will remember this for the rest of my life.

It's the first time I've seen Dan as the perfect match for Niamh. He loves her, and he's also not afraid to gently call her out. I'm so happy this is the man she's chosen, even as her sobs wail louder and she has to be pulled into Dan's chest.

"I can sit the pictures out?" Ollie offers.

Dan gives Ollie a gentle shake of his head, but Niamh only shrieks louder. If there's one thing she's going to do, it's bring the drama.

Over her shoulder, Dan asks Ollie, "Are you alright? Did you have to fight him?"

"No, he punched me pretty good. Knocked me to the floor and run off."

"Well," Dan seems to think for a second. "At least it wasn't proper fisticuffs."

At this, I roar with laughter. "Fisticuffs? God, you really are posh English boys, aren't ye?"

Niamh cries, glaring at me over Dan's shoulder. "Does no one care about the wedding?"

"Oh, darling." Dan immediately soothes. "Everyone in this room cares about the wedding. But a black eye sort of takes priority, does it not? We don't want Ollie to think we don't care about him, do we?"

She sniffles. "I'm too drunk for this. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Ollie and I say together.

"I think we should all head to bed." Dan announces. "We can talk properly in the morning."

We help get them to their room, I half undress Niamh in their ensuite and roughly shove her pajamas on. She doesn't say much, just sniffles every now and then. A part of me wants to comfort her, another part wants me to tell her to get a grip.

When they're both in bed, Ollie turns the light out and I follow him down the hall to our room. Once safely inside, changed and in bed, I ask him, "What did you want to tell me, before they came back?"

"Um," He says, airily. "It was nothing."

Then he turns the light out and I have an unsettling feeling that it was a big something.

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