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I don’t know how it happens, but I must have drifted off to sleep, because when I jolt up in the seat, nearly three hours have gone by.

“I’m so sorry,” I say, rubbing my eyes with the backs of my hands. “Worst road trip buddy ever.”

“It’s okay.” He shrugs. Everything that comes out of his mouth has a hint of easygoing cheer. “Seemed like you needed it.”

“I haven’t been sleeping much,” I explain.

He says, “Hate when that happens,” and then we drive a little longer in silence, until we see a sign signaling food at the next exit, and my stomach growls so loudly that I can’t even pretend to play it off as anything else. Without saying a word, he turns off of the interstate and makes his way to the drive-thru of those golden arches.

“Thank you,” I murmur, grateful. I order chicken nuggets and fries, and he gets a cheeseburger. I insist on paying but tell him he’d better order his own fries because I’m not sharing, and his laugh booms so loudly that I can’t help but smile along with him.

Trevor parks the truck in the lot as we eat, and even though he didn’t order his own fries, I concede, tilting the large red box in his direction. He pulls out three fries, munching softly on them.

“You know,” he says, his smile only faltering for a moment, “I had the biggest crush on you in high school.”

I squint at him. Impossible. Sweet Trevor Hayes? Not a chance.

“Shut up, no you did not.”

“I would swoon every time you came into the cafeteria.”

“You’re just saying that ’cause I’m a sad mess,” I laugh. That must be it.

“I’m really not. Why do you think I was always pestering you for those sliced green peppers you had packed for lunch? You can ask Henry. I was crazy about you.” Trevor nods at my look of confusion, like he’s explaining simple arithmetic to me.

“You don’t like green bell peppers?” I ask, trying to recover from my shock. I shove a handful of fries in my mouth.

Trevor shrugs. “Just an excuse to sit near you, I guess.”

“Really?”

“Norah, I didn’t give a flying fuck about being class treasurer. I just wanted to spend every other Wednesday hanging out with you after school.”

“But you ran all four years,” I say, as if there clearly must be another explanation.

“I did.”

Trevor Hayes had liked me? Like-liked me all that time? I try to process this idea. My complete obliviousness. Would things have turned out differently if I’d known? Could I have put aside my forever-festering feelings for the boy next door and fallen for my student government buddy instead? Would Henry and I have avoided our whole mess because I was dating this sweet puppy dog who went through hell with our student budget just to spend two hours twice a month near me? Would Henry and I have been able to stay friends?

God, even with this admission from Trevor, my mind can’t tear itself away from Henry. Why does this keep happening?

Trevor looks at me for a moment. Like I’m fuzzy, a shape he can’t quite make out. I guess I was supposed to say something more instead of letting his words hang in the air like I did. Trevor drops his gaze. He crumples up his trash and throws it back into the brown bag. He brushes his hands off on the sides of his jeans, then puts the car back into drive, heading for the interstate.

* * *

I’m wide awake for the rest of the ride, making conversation that doesn’t scratch a deeper surface than work, people we knew in high school, and the Bulls’ season. The roads are empty for the second leg of the trip, which I suppose makes sense for the middle of the night on Christmas, and the drive only takes four and a half hours total. As we pull into town, I start to give him directions to my house, but Trevor gives me a funny smile, and I realize of course he knows where he’s going. He’s Henry’s best friend. He knows I lived next door to the Coles.

As we turn down the street I grew up on, I dig through my purse for my house keys. I start emptying my bag, knowing that this is the only place they could be. We pull up in front of the house that will soon enough no longer be mine, and it hits me.

Getting into Henry’s CR-V to go to the lodge. Being annoyed with how bulky the keys I wouldn’t need for the next few days were in my purse. Dropping them into the glove compartment of Henry’s car.

I brace myself and turn in my seat toward Trevor. “I’m an idiot. I left my keys back at the lodge.” My mind flickers to Frankie, but then I remember she’s on the cruise. “I can call a Lyft from here, and get a hotel or something.”

Trevor looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “You’re going to find a hotel at one a.m. on Christmas?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t be silly. I have a guest room. You can stay there tonight.”

“You’ve already done so much for me. It’s really okay. I don’t want to put you out.”

He throws the car back into drive, not even giving me a chance to get out if I wanted.