“Jack. You’re up,” Neil says. “As the most recent member of the ‘Oh, there’s no way I’m in love with the girl I’ve thought about for years’ club, I’ll let you handle this one.”

“I’m going to ignore the incredibly sarcastic tone. Let me ask you a few questions, Henry,” Jack starts, leaning forward and dropping his elbows on the table. “I want you to answer them honestly. None of us are going to think of you any differently because of what you say, okay?”

I nod, my skin prickling with nerves.

Feelings.

So many goddamn feelings.

Feelings mean something big is happening. Something deep.

“Do you think about Emma when she’s not around?”

“Yes, and I—”

“Do you stare at your phone, wondering when she’s going to send you a message?”

“All the time, bu—”

“Do you smile when you think about her, and miss her when she’s gone?”

“Seeing her smi—”

“Do you like spending time with her and wonder when you’ll see her next?”

“She’s my fav—”

“Despite your recent transgression, do you want to be with anyone else?”

“Fuck, no. That was a horrible mist—”

“Could you imagine yourself being with her forever? Whether that means as husband and wife or life partners? Pick whichever title you want.”

“Yes, of course I can. She’s fucking amazing and means the world to me. I want to spend the rest of my life with her. I want to walk down the aisle with her while she wears a pretty white dress, my ring and vows on her finger. I want her to be my wife, forever and always, but more importantly, I want to be hers. I want to have kids with her and grow old with her, sitting in our rocking chairs during our last dying days, reminiscing about all the memories we made together.” Holy shit. “Oh, fuck me,” I groan, dropping my head to the table.

“Welcome to the club of lovers, my friend. It’s not as scary as you might think,” Neil adds sympathetically. He grips my shoulder, and the gesture is comforting, like I’m not in this alone.

“How… How is it possible? It’s been weeks! You don’t fall in love with someone in just a few days, do you?”

“Think about it, man,” Noah says, kinder than anything else he’s said to me this afternoon. “Has it really only been a few weeks? Or has it been years and years of stolen glances and avoiding thinking about her because it didn’t seem logical? Why were you always trying to get her attention? Why did it bug you when she didn’t fall for your games?”