She wipes her eyes. “I mean, I appreciate the effort, but yeah, it’s a little creepy. Maybe I’m just not that romantic of a person, but I’m more into places with lights and, like, civilization.” She considers me. “God, we are both such freaks. I’m glad I met you, Teller. Even if your mom is an asshole. I haven’t laughed like that in years.”

My heart skips a beat.

“By the way.” She grins. “I got your Instagram request.”

I fidget in my seat, hoping she doesn’t think I was too aggressive. I know she got it—she accepted this morning. I scrolled her page all the way back to the beginning of her photos, which wasn’t hard since she hasn’t posted anything in the last eleven months and before that they’re sparse, at best.

“Can I ask…” She trails off and clears her throat. “You don’t have to answer if it’s weird or something, but who’s that girl?”

I know who she’s talking about, of course. I sigh to myself.

She continues, “I’ve seen her around the band—she was at the drummer auditions and then at the show. I thought she was Matt’s girlfriend, but then I saw this pic of you guys kissing…?” She’s examining her nails like she’s trying to act like she doesn’t care, but I think maybe she does care, at least a little.

I sigh out loud this time. I should have deleted that shit. “Yeah. That’s my ex-girlfriend. She is dating Matt now, you’re not wrong about that.”

She grimaces. “Oh man. That guy seems like a total dick.”

“Yeah, he’s the worst. But it’s sort of my fault they’re together. When my mom decided to defend the shooter”—May winces—“Rosa had a big problem with it. It got to the point where we couldn’t have a conversation without her bringing it up. So I told her I needed some space, and next thing I know she’s dating Matt. And that’s pretty much the story of my life since it all went down with my mom.”

May’s quiet for a moment. “Look, I’m sorry. About how I treated you after I found out about—”

I cut her off. “I should have told you instead of being so shady.”

She shakes her head. “I mean, yeah, you should have—at least then my freak-out would have been in private instead of in the middle of fucking drama class—but I don’t know that I would have handled it any better.” She pauses and then says something I never thought I’d hear anyone other than Conor say: “I’m sorry that you’re dealing with this. It’s not your fault.”