It’s Saturday and Joel and I are wandering hand in hand around the Galaxy shopping centre. It’s a bit of a shithole, but in Dad’s words: it’s our shit’ole. As always, it’s full of harried families dragging bored children around Primark and elderly couples on their weekly trip to M&S.
But today feels different. I keep looking at the people around me and wondering how their sex life is and how it compares to mine (or lack thereof). I wouldn’t be surprised if even the old lady who just shuffled past me in Superdrug has a more exciting time in the bedroom, and I’m sure I saw her husband pat her bum by the laxative section.
It’s been a week since our failed attempt and I can’t stop thinking about it.
I’m also hyper-aware of all the young, attractive women here, which I’m never usually bothered by. When I spot one, I find myself glancing at Joel to see if he’s clocked them too, though he seems oblivious. Ugh. The last thing I want to do is to turn into some insecure monster.
One thing that hasn’t changed is that we’ve hardly done any shopping; we mostly come to town just to get out of the house and mooch around. Today, wandering around Superdrug, I’ve taken the opportunity to update Joel on my lack of future plans.
“Forget what anyone else thinks and come to Sunderland then,” Joel says while chucking Haribos in his mouth.
Like it’s that easy.
“What if something happens between us? Then I’ll look like an idiot.”
I’m not completely naive. Joel and I breaking up doesn’t seem likely, but it’s possible. I strongly believe we’re soulmates – I think he’s my One – but what if I’m wrong?
“I’m offended you’d even think we’d break up.” He offers me the bag of sweets and I shake my head.
“Of course I don’t think we would; it’s just…” My voice trails off. Lines of exotic lube and colourful multipacks of condoms leer down at me from the shelves. Of all the aisles we could end up in, it’s contraception and pregnancy. “I’m not sold on the Biomed course at Sunderland.” I look at the floor and up my pace.
“Are you sold on any courses, though?” Joel’s eyes linger on the overfilled shelves.
“No.”
“Well, there you go. May as well do a course you’re not sold on near me.”
He’s got a point.
We reach the end of the offending aisle and find ourselves surrounded by shampoo and conditioner. My muscles soften. I slide my arm round Joel’s waist and lean into him. He kisses my head and we let out the collective breath we’ve been holding.
“Look,” says Joel, “I’m not forcing you to do anything. I want you to go where you’ll be happy, but wouldn’t it be great to get a flat in the second year together, like proper adults?”
“And halls in the first year?” I say, imagining introducing ourselves to future friends as a united pair. I turn away and examine some toothpaste. For some reason, I can’t look at Joel while we talk about this.
“Yeah, defo halls in first year – get the proper fresher experience.”
“Mmmm,” I say. “It does sound fun.”
I want to say screw it. I want to follow my heart and not my head for a change. But if I do, what if I end up regretting it?
“Turn round.”
I take a deep breath and spin round to see Joel on one knee, holding out a red-and-yellow Haribo ring and grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “Will you go to uni with me?” he says.
“Get up, you wally!” I reach for his hand and pull, but he stays rooted to the floor. I giggle. “People might see.”
“Will you go to uni with me?” Joel repeats, pulling me down to his level. His eyes are sparkling with sincerity. He really wants this. I do too.
“Yes.” I hold my finger out for him to slide the ring on and check again to make sure no one’s watching. “Now can we get up? My legs hurt.” I can’t stop myself from smiling.
“Your legs are hurting? I’ll be surprised if I still have a kneecap by the time I get up!”
I stand and heave Joel to his feet. “You are such a soppy bollock,” I say, before leaning into him and pecking him on the nose.
“I’ll be anything to make you happy, both soppy and a bollock,” says Joel, beaming. He pulls my hand towards him and admires the ring. “It’ll be real one day,” he says softly. “I’ve already thought about different ways I could ask you.”
My stomach flips and my whole body tingles. “Have you?”
“Yep. Not soon, obviously – we’re too young. But one day. I’ve never been surer of anything in my life.”
I grin. “Aww, me neither. You’re the one and only bollock I can see myself marrying.”
“Is it because I’m the total package?”
“I see what you did there.”
Joel laughs. “Enough of the testicle puns. Now let’s get back to my place because all this teasing is driving me nuts.”
Back at Joel’s, I’m sitting on his bed while he’s rummaging around in the wardrobe.
“I’ve got a present for you,” he says, fiddling with something in front of him.
“Let me guess, you’ve got your dong out already?”
Joel turns round with his flies firmly done up, holding a small package wrapped in lilac crêpe paper.
“How dare you!”
We both laugh.
“What’s the occasion?” I say.
“No occasion, just you being you. Last weekend was pretty crappy for you. I want to make it better.”
I don’t know what to say.
Joel moves to sit beside me, donning his signature smile with its adorable lopsided squint, and, just like that, my heart is back to feeling so full it might explode.
“Here.”
The crêpe paper crunches as I turn the parcel over in my hands. It’s much heavier than I expect.
My cheeks flush. “Don’t watch me. I’m feeling self-conscious.”
Joel turns away. “As you wish. Can’t be having madam feeling shy now, can we?” He peeks briefly back over his shoulder, killing me yet again with that smile.
I rip off the paper and admire the solid, smooth object. It’s made of clay – no surprise there, given ninety per cent of Joel’s gifts to me are made by his fair hands. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I found out he liked to sculpt on our first official date, two days after we met, almost eleven whole months ago. When I asked, What are your hobbies? (a first date prompt I found on Google), he replied with many seventeen-year-old boy clichés like playing Xbox. In fairness, if he’d said he liked opera singing and fox hunting, my chicken wings and I would’ve left Nando’s immediately. I’d kept pushing. Come on, you must have a hobby. Everyone has one, right? said I, a girl with no hobbies. He’d finally told me he was a potter. Not to be confused with a pothead – I’m not into smoking weed, he’d said with a laugh. He is, however, into ceramics so much he’s got his heart set on going to Sunderland University next year to study it. It’s both amazing to have a boyfriend who enjoys doing more than browsing Pornhub and hanging out with “the lads”, and also massively crap seeing as the uni is three hundred miles away.
I turn this latest creation over several times, but I can’t work out what it is. It’s a flat dish with a small erect sausage of clay sticking up from the middle.
“Have you opened it yet?”
“Yes, it’s … interesting,” I say. “What is it?”
Joel turns round and uncovers his eyes. “Guess.”
“A ‘to scale’ artistic impression of your nob?”
“To scale? Right, give it back.” Joel lunges for it and I throw myself back on to the pillow, laughing, dish still in hand. Then he’s on top of me, the tip of his nose touching mine. He holds me down by my wrists, his touch gentle.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I love it. What is it, though?”
His warm breath tickles my lips before he draws back.
“It’s a ring holder. I remember you said you didn’t have anywhere to keep your rings.”
A warm feeling rises within me. Until I met Joel, I thought this type of person only existed as the main character in a romcom, not as a lead character in my actual real life.
Joel loosens his grip and I sit up enough to put the ring holder on the bedside table. “Thank you,” I say. “I’m very lucky.”
“I’m the lucky one,” Joel says with a shrug. “Now about this ‘to scale’ business. Need I remind you your measurements are way off…?” His hands find my wrists again and he wrestles me back down on to the pillow. We’re nose to nose again and his eyes glint before his lips meet mine.
I want to relax into the kiss, but my muscles stiffen. I’m back to that moment just before our painful encounter – back in that space where Joel’s kisses are solely part of the warm-up.
“Just kisses and naked cuddles?” I say.
Joel nods and kisses my forehead. “Just kisses and naked cuddles.”
My whole body melts into the mattress. Any worries about university and another painful sex attempt speedily disappear along with Joel’s swiftly removed T-shirt.