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“The landlord isn’t picky who he rents to. The main thing he cares about is getting paid. I’ve been here for my whole course, but it’s felt like a revolving door for the others.”

“Ever considered if you’re the problem, given the high turnover?” I tease.

“Ever heard of not biting the hand that feeds you?” he quips back.

I chuckle as I walk through to the kitchen. The counter is covered with various items. It looks like he started preparing the ingredients for a meal. There’s a bag of flour and sugar, a tray of eggs, various cooking utensils, and a set of scales. There’s also a heavenly smell in the room that I can’t quite place, something sweet.

“I was joking. I’m sorry,” I apologise, because it looks like he’s already put in a lot of effort. He doesn’t need to do any of this for me. He could have walked away after his placement and told himself “job well done” for keeping a student’s welfare for the duration of his assignment. He could have said goodbye on his last day teaching and left without a backwards glance or a fleeting thought about me for the rest of his life.

“No need to apologise, Dee. It’s nice to see you a bit more relaxed and open,” he says with a shrug.

“What are you cooking?”

“I guess I should have checked that you don’t have any allergies or food aversions.” He frowns for a second.

“Nope. Well, I mean, I assume you’re not going to give me a plate of shellfish.”

He grins at me. “What makes you so sure about that?”

“Oh, no, please. Sorry. I’m not allergic, just… not for me. Felix and his family love them all, but they make me shudder. When we went on holiday, there was a seafood night in the hotel we stayed in. They were slurping oysters and mussels all night, and the whole place stank of fish. I swear the smell was still there for breakfast the next day.” I grimace at the memory. Felix had spent most of the evening trying to encourage me to eat some of the fresh shellfish, but I had stuck to less adventurous food that night.

“Relax. It’s not as fancy as the dinner you would have got at prom. Two courses, food I’m sure you’ll find familiar and like.”

He walks across to the fridge and starts to pull items out, placing them on the countertop near the hob. A packet of cheese slices. A bowl of prepared salad. A plate with some haphazardly shaped burgers on it.

“Now, burgers I can do.” I feel myself relaxing now I know the menu options.

“Take a seat. Tell me more about Felix,” he suggests, waving in the direction of the stools under the breakfast bar.

I take a seat and watch him as he sets about preparing things. He grabs an onion, a bag of potatoes, and a packet of burger buns from one of the cupboards.

“What do you need to know?” I ask. I watch him slice the onion open and cut it into small sections. They’re evenly sliced, and I’m impressed with his cutting skills. I recall the food technology lessons I took at school and the muttering that took place when we were expected to cut with such precision.

“You care for him a lot,” Joseph states. He grabs a frying pan from the cupboard and puts it onto the hob.

“I do. I love him.”

“Have you two ever…?” His voice trails off as he glances over at me, wearing an expression that I can only conclude means he’s asking if Felix and I have ever been more than friends.

I laugh loudly. “God, you sound like his mother. No. First, we’ve been friends since we were small children. I don’t think I’d ever see him in that way. He feels like a brother. Besides, Felix is gay, so I’m definitely not his type.”

He looks thoughtful for a second before turning back to the frying pan. “I thought maybe you were pining for him because you were in love.”

“Not pining.” I laugh again. “I just miss him. We used to see each other every single day, so of course I miss him. I’ve been counting down the days for him to be home since the day he left. He knows me so well; he’s always been the person I can be open with.”

“Nobody else?”

“Only you, I guess. I tell you things I’ve never told anybody else,” I admit.

He turns to me again, giving me a small smile. He doesn’t say anything, though. After a moment, he turns back to the pans, caramelising the onions, adding the burgers.

Joseph and I have sat in comfortable silences for long periods of time since the day we met, but instead of keeping the silence today, I start talking. I talk about Felix, our families, how we’re connected, how things changed when my father left. I tell him about my nights with Felix and his family, how they’ve been my lifeline. He lets me talk, occasionally smiling at me as he potters around the kitchen, peeling potatoes and putting them into the fryer, putting burger buns on to toast, and eventually plating everything up.

He passes me a plate with a juicy-looking cheeseburger, chunky fries, and a side salad. He pours us both a glass of juice before he takes a seat next to me and raises his glass.

“Happy non-prom, Delilah,” he says.

I clink my glass against his. “Happy non-prom,” I reply, then look at my cheeseburger. “Well, I hope this is as good as the burger outside the club, as that was the best one I think I’ve ever eaten.”