I want to tell him. Not just that I’m a Similar, but everything.

Am I doing the same thing to Ollie that Levi did to me? Lying by omission because I can’t bring myself to tell him the information that could change everything between us?

Maybe that really is why Levi lied to you. Because he couldn’t bear to upend your entire world, in one fell swoop. Maybe it wasn’t his secret to tell.

Staring at Ollie now in the brilliant light of this cold December afternoon, I feel a rush of longing in my chest that’s hard to ignore. It’s not lost on me that this is the guy who’s always been there for me. Through thick and thin, tragedy and trauma, pizza and horror flicks. He’s the boy who would do anything for me. Who’d never lie to me. It pains me to compare him in my mind to Levi, and I know it’s not fair, but I do it anyway.

You’re lying to him too.

It’s not like I haven’t known this all year, or felt guilty about it. I’d convinced myself of the narrative that it wasn’t wise to confide in him before I had any proof. But now, as I think about that crumpled DAAM flyer in the recycling bin, I feel the weight of what I’m doing, heavy like an anvil. I’m keeping the most important secret of my life from him. Telling Levi didn’t give me any sense of closure or comfort, and now, in a way that’s hard to admit to myself, I wish I hadn’t.

You should have told Oliver.

“Ollie?” I say, as he rubs my fingers between his own. I’m not worried I’ve broken or even bruised my hand; the pain has completely subsided. Because of your properties. Because you’re a Similar. The only pain I feel right now is a distinct pang of guilt.

“Yep?” he asks as I pull my hand away, flexing my fingers to show him that I’m fine.

In a flash, I realize exactly what I have to do.

“I’m in the middle of a personal statement. I don’t wanna lose my train of thought,” I say hastily. “It’s for the common application, for most of the U.S. schools. Though…not for Oxford. I’m applying there too. Actually, I already have.” I breathe out those words, forcing myself to say them. I should be able to tell him that detail, at the very least. “It’s far,” I add, hoping the surprised look on his face won’t turn into disappointment. Or worse, hurt. “It’s really hard to get into, and it’s only one of a million places I’m applying, but… I thought you should know.”

Ollie grins. “I love Oxford.”

I frown. “You do? Since when?”