The dread in my gut increases as Dominic gets closer and his frown gets deeper and deeper and deeper. I fiddle with the promise ring he gave me last Christmas, a nervous habit that normally calms my nerves. But now it does nothing. When Dominic stops at the base of the perfectly polished white ladder that leads to my seat, he finally looks up.

My eyes zoom into a deep focus of his perfectly pink lips just in time for him to say the worst four words in existence: “We need to talk.”

How is it that just four words can make you feel like your whole life is completely ending? Everyone knows what “we need to talk” means. It’s the beginning of just about every breakup scene in any rom-com ever, the genre I’ve watched practically every day the past three years. But breaking up is not how the rom-com of my life is supposed to go. I’m supposed to finish the last couple of months of my junior year with Dominic by my side, have him cheer me on at qualifiers and then state swim meets, premiere my film showcase submission that he’s been helping me put together, dance at prom, help his mom throw his senior graduation party a few weeks later, then spend a perfect summer together before we move him into Cal State Northridge in September. Every last moment was going to make the ultimate real-life rom-com, but I guess Dominic has other ideas.

But wait. He hasn’t actually dumped me. Maybe this is all a big misunderstanding and I’m letting my obsession with movie beats fill in the blanks.

“Sean? Did you hear me?” Dominic’s yelling now and suddenly we’re the center of attention, mojito-drinking moms and the self-proclaimed SFGs (Sunday Funday Gays) whipping their heads in our direction. My face heats up. I purposely want to be behind the camera for a reason. I can’t stand all eyes on me. “I said we need to talk.”

A few gasps echo across the pool. I’m not the only one who suspects what’s about to happen. An SFG even drops his mouth in an overexaggerated O, slaps the side of his face, and says to a friend, “Mary, it’s about to go down.”

It’s best if I go to Dominic so that if he continues to do what I think he’s doing, it’s not going to be in front of an audience. “Hang on. Just . . . wait.”

I shoot a quick text to Kavya, who’s sitting in the stand on the other side of the pool.

I’m taking my lunch.

If I tell her the truth about what’s going down, she’ll make an even bigger scene. She has my back through everything, but the last thing I need right now is for her to make another pool proclamation.

Don’t get a hickey this time.