We didn’t actually perform the full three minutes thirty-nine seconds of ‘Your Song’, instead keeping it to a safe ninety seconds so the whole thing didn’t become too embarrassing and awkward for anyone involved. But I was probably still going to look back on this and cringe for the rest of my life.

When the song ended, we’d drawn quite a large crowd of onlookers from Durham’s town centre, and Pip’s smile was so wide and bright that all I could think about was that she looked like the sun. Our performance had done its job.

Jason nudged me in the side.

I looked at him, feeling how much my face was burning. ‘What?’

‘You need to ask the question.’

Oh yeah.

I grabbed the megaphone we’d brought with us from the bottom of the rowing boat – carefully, so I didn’t just fall into the water, which was becoming an ever-increasing danger by this point – and held it up.

‘Pip Quintana,’ I said, and it came out so loud through the megaphone that I made myself jump.

Pip looked incredibly flustered and still did not seem to know what was going on. ‘Yes?’

‘Will you be my college wife?’

The look on her face told me that she was not expecting that question.

Then she smacked her palm on to her forehead. She realised.

‘YES!’ she shrieked at me. ‘AND I HATE YOU!’

And then people just started applauding. All the random people who’d paused on the bridge and by the river to watch – a lot of students, but also local residents of Durham too – clapped, and a few of them cheered. It was a whole thing. Like in a movie. I prayed none of them had filmed it.

And then Pip started to cry.

‘Oh fuck,’ I said. ‘Jason?’

‘Yes?’

‘She’s crying.’

‘Yes, she is.’

I started patting Jason on the arm. ‘We need to get to shore.’

Jason grabbed the oars. ‘On it.’

When we got to shore, Pip had already run down the steps from the bridge, made her way down the path and on to the grassy riverbank, and when I got out of the boat, she ran into me and hugged me so aggressively that I stumbled backwards, fell, and suddenly both of us were sitting waist-deep in the River Wear.

Somehow, it didn’t seem to matter at all.

‘Why are you like this?’ was the first thing Pip said to me, furiously rubbing tears from her eyes, new ones replacing them just as fast.

‘Like … what?’ I asked, genuinely confused.

Pip shook her head, sitting back from me a little. ‘This.’ She laughed. ‘I never would have done something like this. I’m too much of a dumbass.’

‘You’re not a dumbass.’

‘Oh, I am. Big, big dumbass.’

‘You’re talking to someone who is waist-deep in a river in February right now.’

She grinned. ‘Shall we continue this conversation elsewhere?’

‘That would be nice.’

We ended up getting back into the boat – with Pip, this time – and rowing all the way back to St John’s. Pip was so excited by this that she nearly capsized the boat and it took Jason and me quite a lot of effort to convince her to sit down and stay still, but we made it to college without any accidents.

Rooney sat right at the back, trying not to look at Pip. I noticed Pip glancing back a few times, almost like she might say something to her, but she didn’t.

Before we all disbanded on the college green, I thanked everyone for helping me.

‘All in the spirit of love,’ replied Sunil, slinging an arm round Jess.

He was right, I supposed.

All of this was for love, in one way or another.

Pip and Rooney finally acknowledged each other’s existence when Pip said, ‘You were good … on the tambourine.’

She’d meant it as a genuine compliment, but somehow it sounded like an insult. Rooney just said, ‘Thank you,’ and then mumbled something about having someone to meet in town, tore off her lifejacket, and left before Pip could say anything else.

The last person to say goodbye was Jason. He gave me a tight hug, then walked away, the bottom of his trousers damp and water droplets on his sleeves.

And then it was just Pip and me.

It didn’t even need to be said that Pip would stay and talk with me that afternoon. She just did.

It reminded me of the way we were the first year we met. Age eleven. That was the year we went everywhere with each other, trying to figure out if there was anyone else we could invite into our inner circle, and eventually realising that, for now, it was just us.

I took her up to my bedroom. Rooney wasn’t there – she really had gone into town, and I had a feeling she wouldn’t be back for a while – but our beds were still pushed together, the sheets unmade, and everything from last night came back in a sudden rush. Rooney’s confession. The tears.

I realised suddenly that this was probably not the best impression to give Pip, who had been angry at me and Rooney because she thought we were an item.

‘Um,’ I said. ‘This is not – we weren’t –’

‘I know,’ said Pip. She smiled at me, and I knew then that she believed me. ‘Hey, has Roderick shrunk?’

She walked over to Roderick and crouched down. Despite the amount of leaves I’d had to cut off, he actually seemed to have grown since I last watered him. Maybe he wasn’t totally dead after all.

Pip shivered suddenly, which was when I remembered that both she and I were pretty much drenched from the waist down.

I dug out a pair of joggers for her and some pyjamas for me, and when I turned round, Pip was practically ripping her jeans from her legs in her haste to get out of them.

My joggers were comically long on Pip, but she rolled them up and soon we were huddled on the carpet, our backs against the side of the bed, with mugs of hot chocolate and a blanket over our legs.

I knew I needed to be the first to say something about everything that had happened, but I was still so bad at having deep conversations or talking about my emotions in any way that it took a few minutes of Pip chatting aimlessly about her course and her nights out with friends before I said what I really wanted to say.

Which was, ‘I’m sorry. I know I’ve already said that, but, yeah. I really am.’

Pip looked at me.

‘Oh,’ she said. ‘Yeah.’

‘I completely understand you not talking to me after the whole thing at the Bailey Ball,’ I continued, not quite able to look her in the eye. ‘I’m sorry for … you know, what happened. It was a shitty thing to do. For … several reasons.’

Pip said nothing for a moment. Then she turned away and nodded.

‘Thanks for saying that,’ she said, awkwardly flattening her curls. ‘I … I think I knew right away that it was a mistake for both of you, but … yeah. It still hurt.’

‘Yeah.’

‘I just …’ She looked up at me, right in the eyes. ‘OK. We’re being honest, right?’

‘Yeah. Of course.’

‘Well … I did like Rooney. I really did.’ She tilted her head back. ‘I know I never outright said it, but … I didn’t want to admit it to myself. But you knew, right? I mean, you said you knew.’

I had known. That’s what made this situation so awful.

‘Yeah,’ I said.

‘I … I didn’t want to admit it, because, like …’ She laughed. ‘I am so fucking done with liking straight girls. Literally my whole teenage life I spend pining after straight girls, maybe getting like one kiss from a slightly curious girl who immediately goes back to her boyfriend, and then I come to uni hoping to finally meet a solid range of other queer girls … and I just immediately fall for a straight girl again.’ She smacked her forehead with one hand. ‘Why am I the actual dumbest gay alive?’

I grinned. I couldn’t help it.

‘Shut up,’ said Pip, also grinning. ‘I know. I know. I was doing so well. I joined Pride Soc and LatAm Soc and I even went to a couple of those stupid Ultimate Frisbee games, but like … I was still making the same mistakes. Then when you and her kissed, I just – it just felt like the biggest betrayal from both of you.’

I hugged her. Tight. ‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.’

She hugged me back. ‘I know.’

We stayed like that for a long time.

Then she said, ‘I just don’t understand why the kiss happened. Like … I don’t think I’ve ever been so genuinely shocked by anything in my life.’

I felt myself go a bit red. ‘Didn’t Rooney explain?’

‘To be honest, I was so pissed off that I barely listened to what she was saying.’ She huffed out a laugh. ‘And by the time I calmed down, it was kind of too late.’

‘Oh.’

Pip looked at me. ‘Georgia … I don’t want to … force you to talk about anything that you don’t want to talk about. Like, that’s not what people should do to anyone, especially their friends, and especially about things like … like sexuality.’ Her voice grew softer. ‘But … I at least want you to know that you can talk to me about it, if you want to, and I promise I would understand.’

I felt frozen.

She knew something was up.

She’d known for ages, probably.

‘I don’t know whether you’d understand,’ I said in a very small voice.

Pip paused, then let out a short, exasperated chuckle. ‘I’m not sure if you’re aware of this fact, Georgia Warr, but I am an exceptionally humungous lesbian with a lifetime of experience in gay thoughts.’

I laughed. ‘I know. I was there all through your Keira Knightley phase.’

‘Erm, my Keira Knightley phase is still ongoing, thank you very much. I’ve still got that poster in my room at home.’

‘Still?’

‘I can’t throw it away. It represents my gay awakening.’

‘You can’t throw it away because she’s hot, you mean.’

‘Maybe so.’

We both grinned, but I didn’t know where to go from there. Should I just say it? Should I find an article for her to read? Should I just drop this whole topic because she’d never understand?

‘So,’ said Pip, twisting her body round so she was facing me. ‘Keira Knightley. Thoughts?’

I snorted. ‘Are you asking me whether I fancy Keira Knightley?’

‘Yup.’

‘Oh.’ So this was how we were doing it. ‘Well, um, no.’

‘What about … girls in general?’

Pip held her mug in front of her mouth, staring at me with quiet cautiousness.

‘No,’ I murmured.

I guess I was sure about that now. But it still felt almost impossible to admit. For Pip, at least, it probably would have been easier to understand if I did like girls.

‘So … the thing with Rooney …’ Pip looked down. ‘Was it … were you just curious, or …?’

Curious. I wanted to laugh. I was, and always had been, the opposite of curious.

‘Desperate is the word I would use,’ I said before I could stop myself.

Pip frowned, confused. ‘Desperate for what?’

‘Desperate to like someone.’ I looked at Pip. ‘Anyone.’

‘Why?’ she whispered.

‘Because … I don’t. I can’t. I can’t like anyone. Not boys, not girls, not anyone.’ I ran a hand over my hair. ‘I just … can’t. I never will.’

I waited for the words that would inevitably follow. You don’t know that. You’ll meet someone one day. You just haven’t met the right person.

But all she said was, ‘Oh.’

She nodded slowly in that way she did when she was thinking hard about something.

I was just going to have to say the words.

‘It’s called aromantic asexual,’ I said on an exhale.

‘Oh,’ she said again.

I waited for her to say something more, but she didn’t. She just sat there, thinking really hard.

‘Thoughts?’ I said, letting out a small, nervous laugh. ‘Do I need to look it up on Wikipedia for you?’

Pip snapped out of her little thought bubble and looked at me. ‘No. No Wikipedia needed.’

‘I get that it sounds weird.’ I could feel myself going red. Would I ever stop feeling embarrassed about explaining this to people?

‘It’s not weird.’

‘It sounds weird, though.’

‘No, it doesn’t.’

‘It does.’

‘Georgia.’ Pip smiled, a little exasperated. ‘You’re not weird.’

She was the first person who’d said that to me.

I hated that I still felt, sometimes, underneath it all, that I wasn’t normal.

But maybe getting over that would take time.

Maybe, little by little, I could start to believe that I was OK.

‘A bit wordy, though, isn’t it?’ Pip continued, leaning back on to the side of the bed. ‘Eight whole syllables. Bit of a mouthful.’

‘Some people call it aro-ace for short.’

‘Oh, that’s way better. That sounds like a character from Star Wars.’ She made a dramatic gesture with one hand. ‘Aro Ace. Defender of the universe.’

‘OK, I hate that.’

‘Come on. You like space.’

‘No.’

We were just joking, but I sort of wanted to scream. Take me seriously.

She could tell.

‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I don’t know how to talk about serious things without making it into a joke.’

I nodded. ‘Yeah. It’s fine.’

‘Did you … feel like that all through school?’

‘Yeah. I wasn’t really aware of it, though.’ I shrugged. ‘Just thought I was super picky. And my fake feelings for Tommy were a bit of a red herring.’

Pip rested her head against my sheets, waiting to hear more.

‘I guess … I always felt, like … uncomfortable when I tried to have feelings for anyone. Like, it just felt wrong and awkward. Like what happened with Jason. I knew I didn’t like him like that because when we tried to do anything romantic, it just felt … wrong. But I guess I thought that everyone felt like that and I just needed to keep trying.’

‘Can I ask a dumb question?’ Pip interrupted.

‘Er, yeah?’

‘This is going to sound bad, but, like, how do you know you won’t find someone one day?’

This was the question that had been plaguing me for months.

But when Pip asked me it then, I realised I knew the answer.

Finally.

‘Because I know myself. I know what I feel and … what I have the capability to feel, I think.’ I smiled weakly at her. ‘I mean, how do you know you won’t fall for a guy one day?’

Pip made a face.

I laughed. ‘Yeah, exactly. You just know that about yourself. And now I know too.’

There was a pause and I could hear my own heart thumping in my chest. God, I couldn’t wait until talking about this didn’t give me high adrenaline and nervous sweats.

Suddenly, Pip slammed her empty mug down on the carpet and cried, ‘I can’t believe neither of us realised this earlier! For fuck’s sake! Why the fuck are we like this!’

I picked up her mug, slightly alarmed, and put it safely out of the way on my bedside table. ‘What d’you mean?’

She shook her head. ‘We were literally going through the same thing at the same time, and neither of us realised.’

‘Were we?’

‘Well, I mean, with some minor details changed.’

‘Like the fact that you like girls?’

‘Yes, like that. But apart from that, we were both trying to force ourselves to like guys, we were both struggling with the fact that we didn’t have crushes on the people we were supposed to, we were both feeling … I dunno … weird and different! And neither of us liked guys! And – oh my God, I was the one coming to you like, oh no, sad, I think I’m gay and I don’t know what to do all the while you were in such an intense state of repression that you literally thought you were straight despite the fact that doing anything with guys made you want to vom.’

‘Oh,’ I said. ‘Yeah.’

‘Yeah!’

‘Are we both dumbasses?’

‘I think we are, Georgia.’

‘Oh no.’

‘Yes. That’s the takeaway from this conversation.’

‘Great.’

And then Pip started to laugh. And that made me laugh too. And then we were laughing hysterically, the sound echoing around the room, and I couldn’t remember the last time Pip and I had laughed together like this.

We’d missed dinner, so we decided to have a little picnic with all the snacks I kept in my room – of which there were plenty. We sat on the floor and ate supermarket-brand cookies, a half-empty family-size packet of caramelised onion crisps, and bagels that were definitely almost stale, while watching Moulin Rouge, of course.

It was similar to last night, watching YouTube videos with Rooney. If I could spend every night of my life eating snacks and watching something silly in a giant bed with one of my best friends, I’d be happy.

My future still terrified me. But everything seemed a little brighter when my best friends were around.

We didn’t talk any more about identities and romance and feelings until the film had nearly finished, when we’d moved on to the bed and had been curled up in my bedsheets in silence for the better part of an hour. I was dangerously close to falling asleep.

But then Pip spoke – her voice soft and quiet in the low light of the room.

‘Why did you college propose to me?’ Pip asked.

There’d been a lot of reasons. I’d wanted to make a big gesture, I’d wanted to cheer her up, I’d wanted her to be my friend again, I’d wanted to make things right. I was sure Pip knew all those things too.

But maybe she needed to hear it out loud.

‘Because I love you,’ I said, ‘and you deserve magical moments like that.’

Pip stared at me.

Then her eyes filled with tears.

She leant on to one hand, covering her eyes. ‘You fucking dick. I’m not drunk enough to cry while having emotional conversations with friends.’

‘I’m not sorry.’

‘You should be! Where the fuck are your tears!’

‘I don’t cry in front of anyone, my dude. You know this.’

‘I’m making it my new mission in life to make you cry with emotion.’

‘Good luck with that.’

‘It’s going to happen.’

‘Sure.’

‘I hate you.’

I grinned at her. ‘I hate you too.’