Eventually, we pull away from each other. Wyatt does it first, and then I realize what’s happening, and as I come back to this moment, I realize that for the people around us, this wasn’t anything special. They saw two boys who are in love with each other kissing … and isn’t that what people who love each other are supposed to do?

As I look at Wyatt, my stomach sinks. Not for anything that he’s done, not for an expression on his face. He seems happy, content.

So why does it feel like I just made a huge mistake?

*  *  *

I wish that I could say going back to the hotel makes things easier, but it doesn’t.

After the kiss is over, I search Wyatt’s face for any signs. Discomfort from the kiss, or joy that it happened. But there’s nothing to read. He just seems like himself. Maybe that’s supposed to mean that he doesn’t care.

And why should he? He knows that this is all a ruse.

When we get back to our room, he takes his guitar out first thing, camping on the couch with his laptop, looking up the chords for various songs. I watch him work for a bit, then decide that maybe it’s best that I leave him alone. I go to get us a very late lunch.

And, of course, I run into Josh in the elevator.

“Oh, hey.” He looks up from his phone.

He’s dressed in gym shorts and a tank top, this dorky armband on his shoulder, his usual uniform when he goes on his nightly runs.

“Going for a jog?” I ask, as if that isn’t incredibly obvious.

He smiles awkwardly. “Yeah. Had to get out of that hotel room for a bit.”

“Me too.”

“Did something happen?” he asks.

I want to say that he asks it quickly, like he’s jumping on any opportunity to cause a rift between Wyatt and me. But he doesn’t. The question seems genuine.

“No, just tired, is all.” I lean against the elevator walls.

“I feel you. I’m not even in the wedding party and I’m exhausted.” Josh pulls his phone out of his pocket, swiping up and smiling at a text message. My brain flashes with images of him and that boy he was having dinner with. I wonder if that’s who he’s texting, who’s making him smile. And then I have to wonder why I care.

“Who are you talking to?” I ask.

“Oh, no one.”

“No one?”

Josh gives me a look. “Yeah … is that okay?”

“Yeah, of course it is. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I don’t know.” Josh goes back to his screen. “You’re the one acting weird.”

“I’m not acting weird.”

“You definitely are.”

“Well, I’m not. So just drop it.”

“You’re the one who brought it up.”