‘Did you shag him? Because if you didn’t, you definitely should. About time you got back on the horse.’ Candice is one of the few people in this building who would dare to say that to my face.
‘I did not. Why is everyone so obsessed with him?’ I roll my eyes, hoping they’ll buy my I Totally Don’t Get His Appeal act.
‘Have you seen him with his top off? Scrap that, have you seen him with his top on? In fact, did you even look at him properly at all?’ Aoife’s clearly another member of Callum’s apparently extensive female fan club. I can’t contain myself any longer under their scrutiny.
‘Ok, ok, I’ll admit it. He’s ridiculously hot. But I’m not going there.’ I raise my hands to my face, signalling the end of the conversation.
‘Why the hell not? You’re mad in the head. If I was straight, I’d ride him like a wild horse,’ Candice announces. Thankfully, she’s not straight, so I don’t experience the same stabbing jealously that assaulted me on Friday night.
‘You know what I really like about him?’ Aoife pipes up wistfully, as though she’s known Callum for her entire life. She scrolls through her phone, searching the internet for something. I tap my Converse impatiently.
She hands her mobile over. A picture of Callum posing at training, with his arm around the shoulders of a boy of about ten years old lights up the screen. The boy’s overweight, shy looking and in obvious awe of his apparent idol. The caption of the photo reads ‘Training with my mate Martin.’ It has 300,000 comments, 800,000 likes, and 40,000 shares on Facebook. My icy heart thaws marginally. Callum probably saved this kid from a lifetime of school bullies.
‘Huh. A PR stunt. The man’s an animal. Trust me.’ I huff.
Even the photo of Callum sets my blood pressure soaring.
‘He doesn’t need any PR stunts. He’s already made Player of the Year and he’s listed as one of Ireland’s most eligible bachelors.’
For reasons that I don’t dare to dwell on, thoughts of Callum Connolly’s sexual conquests send my pulse racing. Probably because I can’t stop wondering what he’s like on the job. Would he be as good in the sack as he clearly thinks he is? All that practice might have paid off…
‘Anyway, the women of Ireland are going to go absolutely batshit crazy for the chance to talk to Callum Connolly about love. Great job, Queenan. Keep him happy until he’s done the show, for God’s sake. If that means shagging him, by all means, shag him,’ Candice says.
I ignore her last comment and concentrate on the task at hand.
‘Let’s get marketing. I need the whole country to be counting down the seconds, setting reminders in their calendars, desperate to tune in.’
‘When are you thinking?’ Candice taps her pencil lightly on the desk.
‘Next Monday.’ I want him on ASAP, before he changes his mind. There’s a mountain of work to be done in preparation. I need to capture his advert on a dictaphone for the jingle.
‘For the show or the date?’ Candice winks at Aoife as she turns to go out the door.
‘Both,’ I admit, hiding my face behind my monitor to disguise my embarrassing excitement.
