Something about her expression tells me she disagrees. She doesn’t elaborate, though. She doesn’t even reply.

My feet are killing me by this point, and even though I don’t really want to wrap things up, I eventually crack and tell Rose I have to get off the ice. Once my borrowed skates are dried and returned, I hover, waiting for Rose to suggest we head back to our rooms. Instead, she says, “If your feet are numb, we should go for a bit of a walk. It’ll help with the blood flow,” she adds, and I’m suddenly extremely thankful to human biology for giving me some extra time with Rose.

Now I’m here, I’m remembering how much I like being around her. So much that I’ve half forgotten why I ever wanted to take a step back to begin with.

It’s been raining more often than not over the last week, and the woods are muddy and slushy and soggy as we trudge through them. We’re moving slow, because we only have the moonlight and Rose’s phone flashlight to help us see where we’re going in the dark. Theodore is following way behind us, so distant that he could almost be some guy doing his own thing if I didn’t know any better. Even if I glance at him, he’s not looking at us. I guess he does that so Rose feels like she’s living a semi-independent life. And it’s not like he’s so far away he’d miss it if something went wrong.

“Oh, by the way,” I say, because if I leave it much longer it’s going to be weird to bring it up. “Congratulations.”

“On?” Rose asks.

“On Alfie. That whole … thing. It’s awesome.” I add the last lie because even though I mean the congratulations to sound real, it sort of comes out bitchy against my will.

She looks at me blankly for a while, like she’s forgotten who Alfie is or what I’m talking about. “Oh, that’s not … it wasn’t what it looked like. Alfie’s my friend.”

I snort. “Really? ’Cause I don’t do that with my friends.”

She stares at the ground furiously, and I stop smiling. She takes a deep breath, then looks back up, and there’s something desperate in her eyes that catches me off guard. “No, I actually don’t like”—she catches herself, tips her head back to expose her neck, and then steadies—“Alfie. I like someone else.” I blink at her rapidly, trying to process this brand-new information, and then she looks right at me and finishes with a casual, “Some other guy.”