‘I know,’ Colt replies. He smooths my hair down, brushing errant curls from my face, and I swear I hear him say, ‘That’s why I fell for you.’ Or maybe it’s the whistle of the wind. Or the pounding of the rain and the crack of the thunder. I could have heard anything.

But I chose to hear that.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Oblivion

Colt

We hunker down in the dingy basement for half an hour, but it feels longer. By the time the roaring wind dies down, and the distant voice of the announcer says the storm has passed over and it’s safe to come out, everyone’s rattled, quiet, and exhausted. Murmurs fall on the crowd as we start the ascent up the stairs, back to the stadium.

May looks ashamed when she removes her arms from around me, wrapping them around herself instead. She looks a lot smaller than I ever remember her being. She’d probably hate me for thinking it. ‘Sorry,’ she says as we climb the steps.

‘Don’t be,’ I reply immediately, maybe a little too quickly.

She seems taken aback, but nods, swallowing hard. There’s not really much to say. The damp spots on the shoulder of my hoodie are evidence of May’s tears, of the crack in her façade that she allowed me to see through. And that moment, as much as I could try to convince myself, that moment was definitely not fake. Fake doesn’t hang onto one another like the world is coming to an end.

The light splinters in through the tunnel, as if it’s the entrance to heaven or something equally magical, but what we see when we get a view of the field is vastly different. It doesn’t look like we were in the tornado’s path. That’s not saying much, though. There are various leaves and branches all in the bleachers, and the backpacks that were left behind on the sidelines have been tossed every which way, some missing completely. Water and beer bottles alike are strewn across the grass. The scoreboard blinks unhappily, flickering every few moments.

‘This isn’t the worst of it,’ Jordan says to May beside me. ‘Where did that fucker go, then, if not here?’

‘I don’t know.’ May exhales wearily. ‘But the damage here …’

Jordan taps at her phone, raising it in a feeble attempt to get bars. I catch a glimpse of the weather app on the screen. She squints at the reports. ‘Looks like we’re clear. And …’

She stops abruptly and lowers the phone slowly. Her eyes are wide with a hint of pity, as the rest of the girls assemble around us, stragglers coming from the crowd, drawn by the tension among their teammates.