“No,” she said. “Don’t do this to me again.”

“It’s not what you think,” I said.

“Well, what is it?”

Her lip was quivering. I wanted to tell her that this was as hard for me as it was for her, but I wasn’t even sure that was true. It was heartbreaking to me. The chances of my one and only crush over the past seven years ever liking me—me, Ezra Slevin—had just dropped astronomically. But Imogen—who’d apparently already received this rejection once before—looked like I had removed her heart Temple of Doom–style and was lowering her slowly into a ceremonial fire pit, sacrificing her to a twisted Spielbergian interpretation of the goddess Kali.

“I’m not who you think I am,” I said.

“Stop saying that!” said Imogen. “Cut the metaphorical bullcrap. You’re not Viola or Cesario, okay? You’re Wynonna freaking Jones! And I know I’m not insane when I say that I know you have feelings for me. I can feel it. I’ve been feeling it all week! I thought I was crazy—that I was just seeing what I wanted to see—but this is real. Look me in the eyes and tell me this isn’t real. Tell me you don’t have those sorts of feelings for me.”

“That’s not the problem.”

“No, the problem is you refuse to accept that you have feelings for me.”

“That’s not the problem either.”

I was crying now. God, why could I not stop crying? I had this aching, strangled feeling, like my body had been filled with cement, and it had all settled and hardened in my lower abdomen, putting pressure on everything, and this was all too difficult, too much, and for the life of me, I could NOT. STOP. CRYING.

“Then what’s the problem?” Imogen demanded.

I couldn’t do this. I jumped off the toilet, fumbled with the lock, and rushed out of the bathroom.

Wynezra and Holden were standing just outside. They appeared to be having a heated discussion of their own.

“No, your advice was bullshit,” said Holden. “I did exactly what you said, and she freaked—”

“You did not do what I said, I was watching,” said Wynezra. “She was not into—”

“She said it was great! She said thank you!”

“Who the fuck says ‘thank you’ after you kiss them? She was being polite, and that was exactly what I told you to look out for—”

“Wynonna, wait!” said Imogen.

Wynezra and Holden had been completely oblivious to my presence until Imogen barged through the bathroom door. I turned around, ready for a continuation of the fight I had not signed up for, when she grabbed my face and kissed me.