Mum, the thing is, I would never have had a chance with a boy like Ollie, no way would I have even followed him because he’s so out of my league, but there was this group photo from The Wizard of Oz from Easter last year. I wasn’t in that because I was too nervous to audition, wasn’t I? But I helped with props and I did some ushering too, do you remember? You let me do some of the matinees, but you wouldn’t let me do the evening performances unless you came to pick me up, and I didn’t want you to have to come out at night because, well, because.

You see, I do think about you sometimes, Mum. I’m not completely selfish.

Anyway, Stella Prince, you know, cool Stella whose party you didn’t let me go to? She was Dorothy, obvs, and she’d posted about it loads on Instagram, and on one of the photos she’d tagged us all, the cast and crew and everyone. This was before she went away to uni. Stella has more followers than anyone I know, and she posts such cool pics, and I was stoked to be tagged on her feed even though it was only because she’d tagged everyone.

But that’s how Ollie found me. This was before I got Little Red – ages before actually. Before we met Emily and things started to go well for us again. It was May last year or maybe June. I feel bad now. That’s a long time to keep a secret.

I don’t let, like, anyone follow me. I’m not one of those girls who just want loads of followers so they can say, hey, I’ve got 4,000 followers. I’m not like that. Mine’s a private account so people have to ask to follow me. You see? I do listen to you. For some things, I do. I’m so much better behaved than anyone I know, Mum, you just don’t realise it because you only know me and Naomi and Cat and about five of my other friends, and they’re all really nice but even they do way more naughty stuff than me. Naomi smokes, like, ten roll-ups a day and Cat’s had weed, but don’t tell her mum or she’ll kill me. Seriously, Mum, don’t.

So when Ollie requested to follow me, I was like, what? I clicked on him to check him out – I’m not completely stupid – and saw, well, first of all that he was dank. Sorry, but he was so hot. And second, I saw that he followed Stella and a load of others from drama, and Stella and some of the girls followed him back. I even looked him up on Facebook and saw that we had twelve mutual friends, so I was careful, Mum, I so was. I accepted his follow request and followed him back. That’s just what you do. His account was an open one. I stalked him a bit and liked his most recent picture: a flat white at Butter Beans in Richmond next to a copy of Impro by Keith Johnstone. I wanted to comment, I’ve got that book! and to ask if he was an actor too, but that would have been so embarrassing, and I didn’t like any of his other pictures or he would know I’d looked through all of them and that would… well, no. Just no.

Ollie was following loads of beautiful girls, not normal ones like me, and I wondered why he’d bothered following me. He had this picture of him on holiday in Spain or somewhere, with his top off, and he was so dench; he had abs and he had, like, this really intense gaze. He’s got beautiful brown eyes. I took a screenshot, but I deleted it later in case you checked through my photos and asked me who he was. I even deleted the deleted album, to be sure. But I kept it in my phone for a bit first so I could look at it. It’s a bit like when you want, say, new trainers or a top or something but you can’t afford it so you take a photo of it in the shop and sort of carry it around for a bit and imagine what it would be like to just, like, go out and buy it. Have it.

Anyway, then I posted a picture on Instagram of me and Auntie Bridge at her last gig, at the Orange Tree pub in Richmond. Auntie Bridge had her guitar round her neck and she looked quite cool for an old person, and it wasn’t too bad of me obvs because I’d put it up there. I had put:

Me and Auntie Bridge #thepromise

Underneath, he had put:

Cool auntie

I screamed. He had commented on my picture. Oh my actual God. If my friends saw it, they might click on him and they’d see that a total babe had commented on my feed. Loads of my friends get comments and likes from hot guys all the time, but they post selfies in bikinis, in their underwear, where they’re wearing red lipstick, photos of them out drunk or on MD. I don’t post selfies like that, like the others girls do, because, well, because 1) you would kill me; 2) I’ve never gone out and got drunk apart from one time when I went to that party when I told you I was staying at Naomi’s, but I’ve never taken anything; and 3) those pictures are so embarrassing and I can’t even do them. I tried once but it was such a fail so I just choose ones where I don’t look too bad, for me.

I never get likes from hot guys, not normally. But this was more than a like – this was an actual legit comment. This was a move.

I liked his comment, but I didn’t comment back because hello? Internet safety.