“I’m going to show you the joy of us staying in,” Kyle says the next morning as we wait for the blender to finish its racket.

“OK. How?”

“Just makes sure you’re home on time tonight.”

And so, I do. And for once, Kyle arrives before me. I’d expected to walk in and find a naked chef like the other time he surprised me after a hard day testing, but no. He’s fully clothed and there’s not a dirty pot in sight.

“So what’s happening then?” I ask, wondering what we’re going to eat tonight.

He hands me a bottle of beer. “It’s OK, it’s alcohol free. I know there’s still sugar in it, but it’s a fair compromise.” It’s not a question, so I swig from the neck.

“Come here.” Kyle takes my hand and leads me into the lounge with a huge grin spread wide, displaying his gorgeous teeth. There’s still nothing going on in here. The place is exactly as we left it this morning, so I’m struggling to see what all the fuss is about. But he’s looking really pleased with himself for someone who hasn’t arranged jack shit.

Instead of speaking my thoughts, I smile and sit as directed in my spot on the sofa. He hands me my lounging gear and a blanket. “Now, you get changed and settle under that while I just go and organize something.”

I nod, not really seeing why this is a great night, but do as I’m told anyway, slipping off my work clothes. I’m still clueless when he rematerializes. I’d expected him to arrive with a big surprise in tow.

But no.

Nothing, only him.

And still no smell of food.

He takes his seat on the opposite sofa and picks up the remote, clicking on the TV.

That’s it? He turns the television on? “What are our plans then?”

He grins again, although he hasn't stopped since I walked through the front door, so really it’s better to say that his grin widens. “We’re going to Netflix and chill,” he says.

“Not from your place on the opposite sofa, we’re not.”

He pulls his blanket to his chin before snapping his head round toward me. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you can’t Netflix and chill from separate settees.”

“Why not? This is way more comfortable than us both being squished onto one sofa? How can you chill properly when we can’t spread out?”

“Kyle, do you know what Netflix and chill is code for?” I’m stifling a huge burst of laughter, because it’s clear he doesn’t.

He scrunches his brow, pausing before answering, “What are you getting at? How complicated is it El? Netflix. And. Chill out. I’ve chosen us a great movie to watch and we can relax at home together in our personal space in a way that’s impossible anywhere else.”

That’s it. I’m done. It starts as a chortle, spurting out from between my sealed lips. The more I try to suppress my laughter, the stronger the heaving in my stomach grows and I howl. It won’t stop and poor Kyle is just looking at me with bemusement. His confusion further fuels my convulsions to the point where I have to swing my legs free of the sofa and sit on the edge, bent over with my feet on the floor.

“What is wrong with you?” He has one hand on his head, the other palm stretched out toward me.

I try to curb my snorting, taking heavy breaths as my eyes stream. “It’s just that Netflix and chill is code for making out.” My pitch soars as I reach the end of the sentence, my words fading into another frenzy.

“It’s not that funny.” Kyle turns away from me and settles back under his blanket intent on fiddling with no more than the remote until the TV springs to life.