'You're Deep In Love'

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"Don't go to that party."

Her body barges past mine and out of her room, leaving me standing in glass shards of her remains. I feel my feet gushing, my skin sticky, and even though my dress is purple, it's still ruined.

F*ck. I have twenty minutes.

*****

James P.O.V

"James! You look dapper!" I watch Noel hop towards me with leaps and bounds in his steps. "Are you excited for the party?"

"Definitely. I'm gonna drink away the past three weeks," I joke. I look down at my watch face, examining the time. 18:05. "Um, what time we're we supposed to start?"

"Six." Noel pulls his phone from the pocket of his suit jacket. "That's strange." His face holds the expression of scepticism and restlessness. "I haven't seen Harry and Nick for a while either actually ... maybe we're just running a bit late."

That's odd. I know how excited Emma is for this party. It's not like her to be late, even by five minutes, let alone Hazza and Nick.

The campmates, bar Nick, Harry and Emma, have all been recruited to gather around an infinity pool. I have a vessel of champagne rested in my hand, a navy blue suit sitting on my skin, and my blonde hair gelled up that took me a full ten minutes. The sun is beginning to commute to the other side of the earth, beaming down its final red rays onto the pool and illuminating the silver specs on the tiles I'm stood on.

"James? You haven't seen Emma, have you?" Fleur jogs up to my side. She's all dressed up in a neon yellow jumpsuit which is nothing far from what I expected her to arrive in.

"No. Have you?"

"No. I mean, she was called to some room earlier by the production team. Apparently for some touch ups and then to get a lift here?" Her cheeks are red and flustered. "You don't reckon something happened, do you? It all seemed a bit sudden."

"I doubt it. I mean, it's only been like ten minutes now."

"But I wasn't called to production? Were you?"

"... No." I agree. "Oh, crap... ok. What was the room number? Do you remember?"

Fleur's concentration face is one I've witnessed many times in our jungle trials. Her eyebrows furrow whilst she taps her head with her ring finger. "It was like ... 720, I think?"

I quickly eject my phone from my pocket, unlock it, and dial the phone number for the Palazzo Versace reception. It takes a few seconds to ring before a man with a strong Ozzie accent picks up the phone.

"Hello, this is the Palazzo Versace. How may I help you?"

"Hi, this is James McVey." I start, switching the phone onto loudspeaker. "I've been here with the I'm a Celebrity Cast."

"Ah, yes, James. How may I help?"

"I was wondering if you could tell me who is currently staying in room 720 please?"

"... I'm sorry but that is customer confidentiality. I can't disclose that information. But if you like I can..."

Before I can propose any more of an argument, Fleur snatches my phone from my hand.

"Hello. This is Genevive Mayweather, producer of I'm A Celebrity Get Me Out Of Here and one of the main senior leaders at ITV. One of our clients are staying in room 720, and it's of our right to have this information. Of course, unless you would like to speak to our lawyers before I make a complaint of ignorance against your hotel and it's reception staff, I don't suppose disclosing this information should be a problem?"

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