I’ve been numb ever since I said goodbye to Ross. I’m not sure who or what is in front of me. I call in sick for my Saturday shift. I ignore all of Kavya’s calls. I even sneak over to my dad’s place in Los Feliz, a place I never go without him there, because I know Ross and Kavya have no idea where it is. Dad’s collection of rom-coms is even greater than my own, so I watch movie after movie, but none of them really register. I can’t get sucked into Issa Rae and Kumail Nanjiani in The Lovebirds rekindling their love over the course of a hilarious murder mystery, or Sandra Bullock and Hugh Grant in Two Weeks Notice accidentally falling for each other in their down-to-earth lawyer/narcissistic boss relationship. I keep mentally putting fins on all the characters.

Sunday morning I wake up with a weight on my chest. It’s Ross’s last day. I try not to think about them and pay attention to traffic as I make my way back to Santa Monica. Coach insists on weekend practice so we don’t get rusty before state. When I get to the pool, tonight’s Pre-Prom Pier Fundraiser is all anyone can talk about. Everyone except Miguel, who checks in to see how my talk with Ross went.

“Not great,” I say.

Miguel gives a sympathetic smile. “Well, at least you heard them out, right?”

“Right,” I whisper. Then: “Hey. I really appreciate you being there. And, if I don’t come to the pier tonight, it’s not because I don’t want to hang with the team. I swear I’m not drifting away again. I just need a moment to process stuff.”

Miguel nods. “Got it. You know you can call me if you ever need to talk.”

“I do. And I will.” I just need to know Ross’s Journey is over before I can process anything else.

I don’t talk to anybody for the rest of the day. I go through swim practice silently, listen to Coach’s pep talks about state, then head out in my wet bathing suit, not bothering to change. I stare at the pavement on the walk to my car, only looking up when I see familiar black-painted toes in front of my driver’s side door.

“Hey, K,” I say.

“You ignored my calls all weekend,” she says accusingly.

“I need some time.”

I reach into my duffel and grab my keys, unlocking it from my fob, hoping the beeping will get Kavya to catch on that she needs to get out of the way so I can go home and sulk.

“Can we talk tomorrow?” I ask. “After they’re gone.” I know she’ll know who, but I can’t even say their name anymore. It’ll only be an hour or so before the sun sets and they leave.