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“Graham,” I say, shaking my head. “This is weird.”
“I know,” he says. “I had an inkling it might have been you back when you asked me what the scariest thing I’ve done was, and you said you hadn’t done anything scary but you were about to. That was the day you swam for the first time. But I wrote it off as coincidence. It wasn’t until your message this morning that I put it all together.”
“Wait,” I say, sitting up straight and turning toward him. “The sharks?”
“That was me,” he says, raising a hand.
I furrow my brow. “And Taylor Swift?”
“Huge fan,” he says, nodding. “Like, really big fan of her music.”
I can’t help myself; I start to laugh. “Graham, this is ridiculous.”
“I know,” he says, chuckling too. “It’s pretty nuts.”
“Wait,” I say, realizing something. “This means that all the man advice you were giving me was for ... yourself?”
“Yeah,” he says, shaking his head and grinning. “I guess that’s right.”
We’re smiling at each other now, over the absurdity of it all.
But then I remember why I wanted to meet up with GothamGuardian5 in the first place. It was to talk about ... him, about Graham. To talk about how heartbroken I am. My face drops. This is all so strange, and I haven’t fully wrapped my brain around it, but it doesn’t change the fact that Graham hurt me.
“Lucy,” Graham says, reaching over and grabbing my hand. “I want to tell you how sorry I am.”
“Don’t.” I pull my hand from his grasp. “Don’t do this, Graham.” If I have to sit here and listen to him tell me again what a mistake it was to kiss me, I might lose it.
“It wasn’t a mistake,” he says.
My eyes dart up to his. “What?”
He reaches for my hand again. “Kissing you wasn’t a mistake. I’m sorry I said that. I talked to Gloria, and I realized I was scared.”
“Of what?” I search his face.
“Of hurting you. Of not being good enough for you. I don’t think I am good enough still, but ... I want to be.”
I stare at him, not sure if I believe he’s sitting here telling me all the things I want to hear or if I’m having a mental breakdown right now and this is all in my head.
“Say something,” he says.
“You ... don’t think it was a mistake?”
He shakes his head.
“And you ...” I stop, because I’m not sure what he just said exactly.
“You’re the best friend I’ve ever had,” he says, his eyes suddenly looking glossy. “I didn’t want to ruin that. But I’d like to try.”
“You want to try ruining it?” I ask, confused, as hot tears gather in the corners of my eyes.
He lets out a pained laugh. “No, I’m messing this up.” He swipes his hand down his face. “I don’t want you as just a friend. I want more. I’ve wanted it for a while now—I was just too scared to admit it to myself.”
“Graham,” I say, tears now streaming down my face.
He lets go of my hand and reaches for me. Before I realize what he’s doing, he’s pulled me into his lap, wrapping his arms around me. I lean my forehead against his, touching his face, feeling that close-cropped beard against my fingers, still not totally sure if this is real.
“You have to be patient with me,” he says. “I don’t know what love is, Lucy.”
