May hums in acknowledgement. ‘That was one of my finer moments. It was …’ Her voice trails off as her eyes meet mine. I kind of hope she reads me, right then and there. Saves me the nerves that threaten to pull me under when I think about what I’m a sentence from telling her. But I have to do it now. I’ve already put it off five years longer than I should’ve.

‘May, I-I guess I didn’t take your advice.’ I let out a bitter laugh, one that’s more upset at myself than anyone else. ‘I got scared instead of taking the shot. You were my closest friend, man. I didn’t know if you would look at me like I was an idiot when I told you I couldn’t even bring myself to say bye to you because that’s how terrified I was of screwing up our friendship. Because May, I kinda didn’t realize just how much I needed you until that damn plane took off. And when the stupid wheels left the ground …’ My throat stings, my vision going blurry. It’s as unfamiliar to me as timidity is to May. ‘That’s when I realized I’d fallen for you. Now, granted, I’ve clearly taken a couple hard falls in my life, some more kneecap-ending than others …’

Now it’s May’s turn to stifle a laugh, but her eyes look a lot like mine feel. Full of tears.

‘… but I’ve never fallen as hard as I did when I sat on that plane and looked out of the window. Out at where I was leavin’ you behind.’

‘Just take the shot,’ May echoes her own words quietly, and we share a tentative smile. ‘God. You must be great at giving those pep talks to the Woodchucks before games. Have you ever moved your team to bawling before?’

‘Once or twice.’

She chuckles, shaking her head, and bats a tear from her cheek. ‘You’re a character, do you know that? With this – this dialogue about wheels? Colt, wheels? Where do you get this?’ May looks up, a hand to her forehead, and then back to me. ‘Do you know how long I’ve waited for this?’

‘For what?’

‘All of this.’ May does some wildly vague waving of hands. ‘So everything that we did this season, to … to pretend—’

‘Maybe we were supposed to be pretending,’ I put in. Another tear trickles down May’s cheek, and I reach over, thumb it away. She doesn’t stop me. ‘But damn if I wasn’t faking a thing.’

She grips my hand, gives it a squeeze. ‘Can I tell you something insane?’

I nod.

‘I think I’ve stopped hating you. But I’m still jealous.’

Wait. Jealous?