“Hi, I’m Emily Rodriguez, I’m a creative writing student, I spend all of my spare time writing about fictional characters kissing, I have two older sisters who I love but have always felt inferior to, and my greatest fear is that I’m going to live a life that is completely unremarkable.”

She said it all in one breath, not looking at me, and I fell in love with her a little bit more.

I took her hand.

“I’m Rose Atkinson, aspiring chef.” Her mouth twitched, but she lifted her eyebrow, like she was challenging me. I took a deep breath and dove in.

“I don’t really know who I am,” I said, the words catching in my throat. “Eight months ago I found out that I’m a little bit magic, which was much more of a surprise than it should have been, considering everyone in my family is a little bit magic. And I thought that it would make me closer to them, that I’d finally feel like I belong, but it’s just made it harder to connect with anyone. So I’ve been going inside people’s heads to try and understand who they are and I think I lost myself in the process.”

I was gripping her hand tight in a handshake, my arm shaking either from effort or nerves. Emily adjusted her hand so she was just holding mine, and brought our joined hands down to her lap as I took a shuddering breath. When I first saw her in that urgent care, thinking that the hands on our non-injured arms were made for holding each other, I never would have expected that we’d end up here.

“And I’m worried it’s too late,” I said, one tear escaping from my eye and rolling down my cheek. “I’m afraid that if I don’t figure out who I am right now, I’m going to lose you, I’m going to disappoint my mom, and I’m going to miss any chance I had at being friends with Aaron, which I think is maybe the only thing I’ve wanted for my whole life, even more than being a chef. I’m terrified that I’m going to lose my dad, a little bit, every single day, and never find myself, you know?”