“Okay, you asked for it.” I wipe her cheeks. Take her hand. “Autumn, you’re my favorite line in my favorite song. Autumn, you are the melody that never leaves me. You are the refrain that my brain can’t get enough of. I see you, and it doesn’t matter what mood I’m in, all I feel is happy. You’re the chorus stuck in my head, and my heart. Autumn, you are the one song I add to every playlist.”

“Stop,” she says, wiping her eyes. “This is so terrible. So cheesy.”

“I gave you a choice. You said maximum cheese.”

She nods. “I did. It’s all on me.”

“Hey . . .”

She stares at me. “Hey, what?”

“Hey, I . . . I love you, Autumn.”

“You sure? You kinda hesitated there,” she says, smiling.

“I did a bit, didn’t I?” I take her face in my hands. “Better try that again then.” Our eyes lock. “I love you, Autumn.” I kiss her forehead. “I love you, Autumn.” I kiss each of her eyes. “I love you. I love you.” And then her cheeks—“I love you”—brushing my lips against hers, down to her chin and the side of her neck—“I love you so much”—down the trail of black-ink hearts tattooed on the right of her stomach, down, down, down.

“I love you, too, Jamal.”

So down.

22

I lean my bike against the side of the garage, walk over to the stack beside the couch, all of those photo albums still where we left them.

I pull out my phone, take a few pictures of a few pictures.

This was the last birthday we were best friends. Our fourteenth. Our arms around each other’s shoulders, cheesing. Born only five days apart, we always combined our parties.

A photo of us on our bikes, age ten.

At Cedar Park for the first time, standing in front of the Gemini, age eight.

In the back seat of my mom’s car, on our way to our first school dance, age twelve.

I pull up the pictures we took during Carpet Denim too.

The last one, Whit and Ms. B and Autumn and Q and me squeezed into a selfie, the row of trees thirty yards behind us.

I tap Send.

Q: OH WOW. You know I’m already hella emotional right. You tryna make me break all the way down huh.

Jamal: I just wanted to tell you thanks for always having my back, even when I didn’t deserve it.

Q: Friendship isn’t a bandwagon you get on and off.

Jamal: damn that’s deep. And hella true.

Jamal: who said that?

Q: You’re texting with him right now.

Jamal: I’mma steal that.

Q: Go ahead. Not like I’ll be around to call you on it.

Jamal: damn I don’t even know what to say.

Q: I’m just fucking with you, man. My bad.

Jamal: fuck don’t do that.