I wish I could blame the adrenaline, but it’s clear I made the shitty decision myself. For the team, I remind myself. For the women’s lacrosse programme Okie needs, according to our coach. For my career after college, I try to ignore the uncertainty surrounding that last part. Either way, it sounds dumb when I realize that this shitty decision has brought me to an overly expensive pasta restaurant in downtown Prosperity, where I sit across from the menace himself.

I don’t even like pasta. There. I said it.

‘We need to lay down a game plan,’ says Colt, swallowing a bite of ziti. ‘We need to set a couple of guidelines, for how this is gonna go.’

‘A game plan,’ I echo in disbelief. This can’t be real. I spear a piece of lasagne, attempting to silence my particularly judgemental thoughts that might accidentally manifest themselves aloud. He’s such a man.

‘What? It’s true,’ he points out. ‘If we’re going to do this, we need a strategy.’

‘Colt …’ I’m not sure how to react, so in the end, I scoff. ‘Dude. It’s a relationship, not a lax play.’

Both his eyebrows rise at that. He tilts his head in inquisition, all curious golden retriever-esque, and a lock of light brown hair falls from the rest of his ’do, which is effortlessly swept back from his forehead. ‘What’s the difference?’

And that’s why no ‘spark’ between us would’ve ever stood a chance. ‘So much. There’s so much difference. Didn’t you have a girlfriend at some point in Boston?’

‘Uh, yeah. I did …’ The confusion on his face quickly turns to a teasing, overly satisfied smirk. ‘Why, were you keeping tabs on me?’

‘No.’ Ugh. I bite down on my tongue. ‘People date. They learn from their relationships. I just thought you’d finally have figured out that feelings aren’t as premeditated as playbooks.’

The silence that comes after that is deafening.

Colt, always the kind of person who couldn’t stand a moment’s lull in conversation, clears his throat. ‘Anyway. This is technically premeditated. So, we could use a playbook.’

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. ‘Fine. What’s in the playbook then?’

‘Well, we gotta look like a couple,’ he starts with a little wave of his fork. ‘We need to feed the press nuggets every so often, make sure they think the relationship is still a thing. Keep pulling in crowds. Maybe even expand our crowds.’

‘Nuggets?’ I echo in disbelief.

‘Yeah, you know. Like how we were at the bar that other night.’

‘Great.’ If it isn’t enough that he’ll be at every team practice, I have to give him quality time, too. ‘We can do fake date nights, like, once a week or something. Next.’