ELEVEN

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The bag sits in front of him while I plaster a proud look on my face, waiting for him to explore the contents.

"I know that look, it's an 'I'm proud of myself' look. Aspen Watkins, what have you done?" Joel smiles at me. He seems to be in a much better mood than four hours ago. Going home to shower and change clothes calmed me down. His hair is wet, and he's got new clothes on, so it looks like he's had one too.

"Why don't you look and find out?" I smile at him, and he shakes his head before looking in the bag. He pulls out the pots of lasagne and pasta bake.

"Did you make these at home?" he asks.

I nod. "I know I did you the Christmas dinner last week, and as much as I know you'd like it again, it took so long. So, this week I made your favourites."

"Come here." I do as he says, and he pulls me in for a very rare kiss. "I love you."

"I love you too," I reply, and move the pots of food to the table. "I can heat it up at dinner time. I didn't know what else to get, but I can pop out to the shops if you fancy anything."

This is a very rare side of Joel, and I must admit I love it. We both know our idea of loving each other is a bit distorted and non-traditional, but it's a version of love all the same.

"I'm fine for now. Thank you. You're too thoughtful," he replies with a large grin on his face.

I chuckle. "I tried. Have you emailed the university by the way?"

He nods and shows me the emails he's sent about what's happened before putting his phone on the table. "I'm hoping they either tell me to defer the year or give me extensions."

"I feel like a year off is the better option, but if you think you can handle the workload, go for it. The distraction might help. I've got extensions for my assignments. Kind of don't want to put them off now I've already started writing them." I hand him the books and the laptop he requested.

"I get that. Aspen, you know if you want to go home and work on the assignments, you can – I'm not gonna be angry if you need to go home for an afternoon. I don't need you to be here all day with me," he says.

His phone buzzes on the table. The moment I glance at it to wonder who'd be messaging him he turns it over.

"Who's messaging you?"

"Probably crap about some long-lost aunt owing me a million quid. You know those spam messages. I wish I had a long-lost relative with tons of money. I'd be living it up in a private hospital," he jokes. "Maybe a private hospital in the Bahamas."

I just roll my eyes and laugh at his comment. That'd be the life.

He leans over and kisses my forehead. His black stubble scratches my face, and it makes me grin.

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