Page 86 of How We Began

“You’re taking her to a show?”

“She mentioned she’s never been and that she’d like to, so I booked it. No big deal, Delilah.” He waved the knife at me for emphasis.

“But you hate shit like that! You always say it is boring and you would rather have your eyes gouged out.”

“Yeah, but she wants to go, so I don't mind.”

And that in a nutshell is what love is.

Love = Doing something even though you can think of nothing worse, just because the person you love most in the world wants you to.

I feel even more depressed now.

I’m in my room and have Pride and Prejudice prepped and ready to Netflix. I’m going for a ten-hour Mr Darcy love-in.

14th February

VALENTINE’S DAY FROM HELL

(9.20 a.m.)

Another embarrassing wake-up.

“Wakey, wakey, Lilah.” Deft fingers teased under the duvet, which I tried to roll away from.

“What are you doing here?” I groaned.

“Finding you. Why are you hiding? And most importantly, where is my Valentine’s Day snog?”

“Uh, go away.”

“Only if you come with me.”

“I’m not going to campus today to watch lots of lovesick teenagers drool over each other.”

“No, I mean come away with me.”

I opened an eye to see if he was being serious, only to find him looking deliciously fresh sitting on the edge of my bed wearing a navy T-shirt and faded jeans. Automatically I lifted my hands to my hair too see how bad the morning damage was, pointless, while I tried to get my brain to engage. “Come away where?”

“Dorset. Come on, we’re going now. Grab your things.”

“You’re crazy.”

“Yeah, I know,” he conceded with a look like he might be about to add, about you. But he didn’t and I let out a little gusted air of regret.

“Really? You want to go now?”

“Yes. I promised you a date, and now we’re having it.”

I think about it for a whole twenty seconds before leaping out of bed.

“Give me five,” I shouted as I headed into my en-suite.

“No problem. Um, Lilah?”

“Yeah?”

“Why is Colin Firth paused on your TV screen wearing a wet shirt?”