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“They’re definitely not putting on more clothes, are they?” Hannah asks, and Henry and I exchange an uncomfortable shrug. “Well, can’t say I’m bummed I won’t have to hear that. I’m late for a Bumble date.”

“On Christmas?” I ask.

“He’s a Nice Jewish Boy. We’re going for Chinese.” She shrugs as the Lyft pulls up in front of our house.

And then it’s just Henry and me, standing in the cold, impossible to tell if there are new flakes falling from the sky or if the wind is just picking up what was on the ground and spinning it through our awkward silence.

“Well, lucky you. You’ve now got not one, but two, lovely sisters.” I try to be as breezy as possible, but he looks at me so intensely that a whole new shiver runs down my spine that was definitely not brought on by the outside temperature. The blue of his suit makes his eyes even more oceanic, despite the last remaining minutes of dusk. “I’m trying to make a light sisterly joke here. You’re an only child. You’ll catch on eventually.”

“Norah, stop. I don’t want to be your sibling, for chrissakes.”

“Taking the name of Christ on Hanukkah? That’s a weird multicultural thing I’ll have to get used to.”

Henry just shakes his head and quickly retreats to the house without another look at me. I blew it. He came to me, ready to uncomplicate everything, and I threw it right back in his face.

My feet are moving before I even know what I’m doing. I have to run to catch up with him, to beat him to his door, that what if slipping away from me, maybe forever. I hop up to the top step of his porch, and he stays one stair below me, leveling our eyes as he leans on the railing.

“Nothing happened with Trevor,” I admit. “It wasn’t like that. It couldn’t have been.”

Henry doesn’t say a word. He just slips past me, into the house, his sleeve accidentally brushing my hand as he goes.

It couldn’t have been because he’s not you.

I curse myself for not forcing the second part of that sentence out while he was still standing here. I ruined it. I ruined this like I ruined the original proposal, like I always ruin everything. I start to sink onto the stairs, the railing the only thing keeping me from tumbling down.

That’s when I see the door cracked open ever so slightly. Enough to cut the wind from entering the house, but not enough to keep me out entirely. It seems like as much of a metaphor as I could ask for, so I will myself back up to a standing position and make my way inside.

* * *

A kettle whistles, and I follow the sound into the kitchen.

“Do you know why I called off the Truth or Dare game a million lifetimes ago?” he asks, his back to me as he pours the boiling water into two mugs that were already laid out on the counter. He’s removed his suit jacket in the time it took me to come inside.

Trevor’s admission in that McDonald’s parking lot rings in my ears. You can ask Henry. I was crazy about you.

“Because you were protecting Trevor’s feelings,” I say simply, trying not to gloat about being one step ahead of him. Now is not the time.

A flicker of confusion crosses his face as he turns toward me. “What? I mean, yes, Trevor was always very vocal about his crush on you, and that was brutal in its own right because it meant I could never say anything to him about how I felt about you. But you’re giving me too much credit. I’m not that good a friend. Trevor isn’t what kept me from kissing you when it was all I wanted in the world.”

My head feels like it’s spinning, but Henry has surprised me in so many ways, both beautiful and painful, that I can’t trust what’s true anymore. Henry finally turns to look at me, placing a mug of steeping tea in front of me. Chamomile. My favorite. I lean my elbows on the kitchen island, rubbing my temples with my fingers.

“But Trevor said—” I try to unscramble my thoughts. “Then why—”

Henry moves around the island, taking my hands and forcing me upright. “Let me say what I need to say. You keep interrupting and misinterpreting, and I want to make it exceedingly clear to you.”

I nod because no words are coming.

“I always had feelings for you. Of course I had feelings for you. How could I not? Don’t you remember the way we used to talk about the future?” Henry loosens his tie, as if saying these things is constricting his breath. “The reason I stopped the game wasn’t because I didn’t want to kiss you. I wanted it too much, Norah. I just couldn’t have it happen like that. Not in front of our classmates. Not because of a dare. It would have been my first kiss, and I wanted to be sure that it would mean as much to you as it did to me.”

My brain is breaking into a thousand pieces. The narrative of everything I thought, every wall I’d built up, every sleepless night before and after moves around like puzzle pieces. What the fuck?

“It would have meant everything,” I say quietly, gnawing on my lip. “All this time, you let me believe you didn’t want me. You never said anything.”

“I think I made my feelings pretty clear this week.”

“No. Then.”

“I tried.”