Jordan rolls her eyes, chuckling. ‘It’s not discouraging. If I were you, here’s what I’d do.’ She cocks an eyebrow. ‘I’d start by acknowledging the fact that maybe, there will never be a right time. And that if he’s truly the right person, that time is something you have to make for one another. He’s working on being real with you. Sharing his fears. Insecurities. Now, I think it’s time you do the same with him.’

‘Do you … do you remember when he left the first time? Like, the last time you saw him?’

‘Kind of.’ Jordan shrugs. ‘Here and there. Why?’

‘I replay it. All the time.’ I swallow hard. ‘How the hell do I tell him that I think about how he left all the time? And that it’s made me terrified that this will be just like before?’

‘Bye, Colt! See ya soon!’

The idiot was probably one of the most popular kids in school at that point. Objective term. He pranced through the halls like he was overjoyed he’d never have to see a shred of Prosperity High School ever again. He doled out parting waves, and a couple of hugs, easily, so I assumed either he’d said his hardest goodbyes earlier in the day, or that no goodbye was hard for him. I wasn’t sure which it was. I hadn’t got a goodbye yet.

The night before, we’d hit the ranch field together – one-on-one, as always. I’d said something along the lines of ‘Who’ll you scrimmage with in the back of a farm in Boston?’

He’d just laughed and replied, ‘Guess I could try and find someone. Won’t be the same, though.’

And that was it. I look back and think that maybe that was his version of ‘see you’, though. That maybe any other variation on parting ways would have caused the both of us a hell of a lot more pain.

It didn’t dull the hurt I felt when I stood by my locker, waiting, watching him with pleading eyes, watching him for the last time. He bumped knuckles with one of the guys on the team not far away. I steeled myself for one of the roughest goodbyes, and the most complex one, I’d ever have to give.

Colt was so close to me I could smell his cologne when he drew right past me. He turned on his heel, walking backwards as he grinned and said to so-and-so that he’d miss them or told so-and-so that he’d be back soon. But I didn’t care about that garbage. I cared about the fact that he had just passed me right over. Like my face wasn’t even vaguely familiar.