Our Year of Maybe

“Because the girl who gave me a kidney was in pain! I’m sorry if that takes precedence.”

“And you’re a doctor? You staying with her made that much of a difference?”

That hits a nerve. “Yeah. It did.”

Chase scuffs the frozen ground with his shoe. “Is she always going to come first?” he asks, his brows drawn in a way that makes him look more hurt than angry. It’s not an accusation. It’s an honest question, and it makes me think.

“I—don’t know.” I bite down on the inside of my cheek. Tonight she came first. She had to. Will she come first for a few more months? Years? As long as her kidney is functioning in my body?

He’s shaking his head. “Peter. Sophie loves you, and not just as a friend. It’s . . . frankly pretty obvious.”

My first instinct is to deny it—but nothing comes out of my mouth. If it’s true, there’s something undeniably flattering about it. Something that ignites a dormant part of my heart.

Something I felt when I was holding her earlier.

“I really like you,” he continues. “But . . . I don’t want to get in the middle of whatever you have with Sophie, and it’s becoming clear that I am.”

“You’re not,” I insist, not fully believing myself.

“I felt it when we were ice-skating. And then you and me, at your house . . .” He blushes. “I thought it was going to be fine. I thought I would be able to ignore the deep connection you two have because you and I were building something of our own. When it’s only the two of us, Peter, it’s perfect. But I don’t want to be constantly competing. Because you know what? She’s always going to win. She’s known you longer, and she made a sacrifice that, to be honest, I’m not sure I ever could.”

“Sophie is my best friend. I’ve known her practically my entire life.”

“I’m not asking you to stop being friends with her. I know there’s plenty of stuff I’m not going to understand.”

“I’m not asking you to understand! Just to try.” I throw up my hands. “She—the entire reason I can even do this with the band is because of her.”

“And what she did was amazing,” Chase says. “I won’t ever deny that. I don’t want to be jealous, but I am, and I know part of that is my fault. I’m jealous of your best friend who gave you a kidney—because she gave you that and now she wants more from you, more than you want to give, maybe, and you won’t tell her no. You won’t tell her you need space. Maybe you feel like you owe her, or—”

“Don’t use that word,” I hiss at him. “Please. I don’t—I can’t go through life thinking I owe her.”

A few late concertgoers make their way out of the venue, clutching their coats against the cold. Laughing.

“I think—” he starts when they’re out of earshot, and then immediately stops. Brings a fist to his mouth, as though quite literally preventing himself from saying whatever he’s about to say next. “I think we don’t have a real chance until you figure things out with Sophie first.”

A strange sound tumbles out of my mouth. “What are you talking about?” There’s nothing to figure out with Sophie.

“Come on. You can’t be that naive.” There’s a harshness in his tone that wasn’t there a second ago, as though my perceived naivete offends him.

I take a few breaths, a few steps back. “I don’t get why you’d even say something like that.”

“Peter—Jesus Christ. You’re so fucking smart. How do you not get it?” He holds out his arms as though reaching peak frustration. Chase probably curses more than I do, but there’s something staggering about the way he wields it this time. “There’s something there. I don’t know if it’s that you guys have been friends forever or what, but . . . there’s something there.”

There’s something there.

Is there?

Sophie dancing on a football field.

Sophie kissing me at that party.

Sophie in the green room next to me, her body against mine.

My mind is like a scratchy old record, unable to play the track I thought I wanted. Instead it’s skittering all over the place.

“I like you,” I tell him.

“And I think some part of you might still like her, too.” It’s a tissue-paper theory, light as air.