“Hey! I’m in fancy graduation robes here!” But she’s laughing too, the mood between us light. It’s like we’ve spent all of high school in a bubble that’s finally burst. Now is the time to ask, if I ever want answers.

“So did you even like Andrew?” Even though he’s mine now, even though I’m sure of it—my chest still feels tight. I realize that this is what love is—this constant ache for the rest of my life that someone or something could take him away.

“Course not,” she says. “I’ve liked Chase for like ten years, Collins. I thought that was obvious.” She takes her graduation cap off and studies herself in the mirror, bringing her hands up to flatten the stray wispy pieces around her forehead. “Andrew was so jealous of your college boy he was about to explode. So I knew we could help each other out. I’m a manipulative bitch, remember?”

“You’re not a bitch,” I say, meaning it.

Our eyes meet in the mirror and she smiles. “Do you think we’ll stay friends after we graduate?”

“No.” It feels freeing to finally speak the truth. “And that’s okay.”

She sighs. I know she’s thinking about Ava.

“You guys will make up,” I say.

“I know I need to be nicer to her.” She stares down at her hands, her fingernails still shiny and black. “I think maybe we’re meanest to the people we love the most because we want to believe they’ll love us no matter what.”

Before I think about what I’m doing, I take her hand and squeeze. “Ava still loves you. Just give it some time.”

“Thanks.” She smiles, and it’s a real one—the kind that shines through her eyes.

“We should go back out there,” I say. “Face our future and all that.”

We get up off the sink and leave the bathroom together, still hand in hand, heading back out to the field to see everyone. When we reach the big white tent with all the chairs, she squeezes one more time and then lets go, veering off to where Chase and Ava are standing. Chase throws an arm around Danielle, pulling her close, and I see the flash of hurt on Ava’s face before she breaks into a resigned smile. I hope they make up eventually, but maybe they won’t. Maybe some friendships are meant just for high school. Maybe Danielle and Ava no longer fit together, no longer speak the same language.

I wave to them and then head over to Andrew and Hannah, pulling them into a tight hug, just the three of us.

“I’ll miss this,” I say as the graduation march begins.