Then it hits me. Not quite as hard as Dominic hit Ross, but whatever. I’m being fought over. Like, literally fought over. And I want to be upset that violence is happening because of me. The lifeguard in me doesn’t want to see anybody hurt, but I’d be lying if I said there isn’t a part of me that’s a little bit complimented.

It’s so surprising that I laugh my big, obnoxious Donkey Laugh.

“This isn’t funny, Nessan,” Coach growls. Now that Ross and Dominic aren’t struggling, he grabs them each by the collar with his meaty hands and marches them down the bleachers.

Ross is smirking but resigned to their fate, while Dominic looks like he’s struggling. Internally this time, glancing up at me, then at Miguel, back and forth, like that day weeks ago when he saw me eat it in the quad. He’s mulling something over. As soon as he hits the cement around the pool, Dominic’s face settles into a look of determination.

He takes a deep breath and yells, “I love you, Sean! I can’t stand us being apart. Pick me. Choose me. Love me.”

Those three sentences are Dominic’s favorite declaration of love in any romance scene in existence. It’s not a rom-com, but Grey’s Anatomy is close enough. I knew he’d do this. I knew when Ross and I pretended to be together, we’d end up here. But I thought I made it clear to Dominic that there was nothing in store for us.

“Sean,” Dominic pleads. “I know everything you said at the showcase is true. This is all my fault. But we’re meant to be together. Our lives are linked. I’ll be the publicist, you’ll be the director, we’ll be the Hollywood power couple. Everybody will want to be us! How can you let that go?”

All eyes turn to me, dozens and dozens of spectators waiting to hear what I have to say. It makes me freeze. I hate being the center of attention. But it does nothing to stop the frenzy of thoughts that swarm through my mind. What Dominic doesn’t get is, it doesn’t matter if we share every interest in the world. Even if I’d make movies and he could be my publicist, even if his mom still keeps catering leftovers tucked aside for me, even if he lets me know how horny my thighs make him, even if we fit together perfectly in almost every way. Because almost isn’t enough. That almost left room for him to lie and to cheat and to make me doubt myself. But that also made room for another person to do the exact opposite.