The next few days are colder still somehow, snow piling up in drifts against buildings, windows freezing shut and pipes freezing useless, school miraculously remaining in session.

Two days after my conversation with Luke, I approach Connie in the hallway before lunch. She looks startled but happy, tucking her hair behind her ear and looking at me expectantly.

"Con," I say, knowing that if I had my hat, I'd be twirling it sheepishly in my hands. "I'm really sorry for shutting you out lately. That was…well, it wasn't real nice of me, especially since you were there for me when I needed you. So, uh…" I don't really know how to finish my apology.

Connie doesn't let it bother her. She grabs my hands then releases them to throw her arms around me. Her hug is startling and warm and tight, and I return it fiercely, glad that she's making this so painless. I've been worrying that I'd alienated everyone permanently, that I'd ruined everything.

"You scared me, Dwayne," she says, her voice muffled into my shoulder and thick with open emotion. "I was so worried about you. I wanted to help, but I didn't know what I could do or say, and you --"

"I wouldn't have listened anyway, Connie; I was being completely irrational. I didn't want to talk to anyone or do anything. I was so sad and angry that Adam didn't want to be around me anymore…oh, but mostly I was scared. I was scared that losing Adam was only the beginning, that I'd just knocked out the first block and everything else was going to come tumbling down next. And it was something I couldn't stop, something I couldn't control. I couldn't' help how I felt, though I thought I could have -- thought I should have -- kept it to myself. But now…Connie, I have done so much thinking in the past couple days, and maybe it's all for the best."

Connie has long since pulled back, but she's still holding my forearms, staring up at me, her eyes sparkling prettily. She laughs suddenly, and, confused, I look at her and stop talking.

"Oh, Dwayne, I'm sorry, but I'm so happy, I can't hold it in. You scared me all this time, but if you needed it to come to some conclusions, then it is all for the best, and I never thought I'd hear those words come out of your mouth, but I'm glad they did."

"Connie," and I'm frantic suddenly, panic settling in my chest, "I've got to talk to Adam, where is he? I have so many things to tell him, and I can't be too late --"

"Too late? What are you talking about?"

"Adam…" I trail off, because although the hallway seems empty, I'm still worried about everything I'm about to say and, too late, about the implications of what I've already said. I lean down toward her, not really caring, but lowering my voice conspiratorially anyway. "Adam loved me, too…loves, hopefully, if I'm not too late…he loves me more strongly than I ever thought possible, he just showed it in his own way, and I didn't get it. But I do now. I understand so many things now. And I need to talk to Adam…"

"Dwayne, I'm sure you can talk to Adam any time you want to; he'll listen, especially if he loves you as much as you say he does -- and how do you know?"

"He wouldn't be with me."

Connie raises her eyebrows.

"No, really -- it makes sense. He cared for me too much to hurt me. And I probably would have gotten hurt; it would have been an impossible relationship, with my expectations. He told me he was attracted to me, he said when I…" and I trail off again, suddenly paranoid. Connie nods briefly; she knows what I'm talking about. "But I know it goes much deeper than that, if he didn't let that attraction make his decision, if he wouldn't start something frivolous. If he just had surface feelings, what was to stop him from having a little fun?"

Connie cringes at the mental images I'm sure I just gave her, but she's still smiling. "Well, firstly, there are many reasons: the fact you're roommates and teammates, and the fact that Adam just isn't that type of guy."

I shoot her a look, and she smiles wider before apologizing for shooting down my first "proof."

"I know, I know all that, but…I can just tell, Connie. I know he cares about me, he loves me, and I should have always known. He's never really hid it, I just didn't know what I was seeing. He loves me, and he wanted to wait for me to be ready to enter a real relationship, without blinders and without expectations."

"And that's now?"

"I think it's now."

"Then you've gotta talk to him. I think," Connie begins, pursing her lips for a moment before continuing, "that Adam had to stay away from you because he couldn't control himself around you." My ears blush bright red, and she shakes her head. "I mean…he'd controlled himself for so long, he'd managed to keep his feeling in check -- you could see them if you were looking, but most people -- including you -- didn't. But now that you revealed yourself, now that he knew how you really felt…he needed to stay away. He needed you to understand why you guys couldn't be together, and he needed you to realize alone what you needed to realize for anything to happen, for anything to work. So he couldn't be around you, because he'd want to force you to realize, he'd want to teach you about real relationships. And for anything to be real and long-term, you had to learn that on your own."

I stare at her.

"I was worried about you, Dwayne. I analyze when I'm worried."

"No…no, you make a lot of sense." I like the thought of what she says, and I think it might be true. "And I think that makes me love him more."

Connie rolls her eyes at me. "You're such a girl sometimes."

I laugh, and she looks so happy to hear me laugh. "Is he in the lunchroom now?"

"You're going to do this at lunch?"

"No," I immediately reply, although I kind of want to, because lunch is now. A thought strikes suddenly. "I don't know if he'll listen to me, Con."

"Sure he will. He really does care about you, and he'll listen to you."

"No, I mean…the ball is in his court. He came into the room the other day, and I…I don't even remember what I said, just more of the same stuff, the same broken record. And he told me that I should stay away, that I should back off and let him make the next move."

"Even when things are so clearly different?"

"He did say that when things change…"

"So, Dwayne -- "

"I don't know if he'll stay in the room long enough to learn that things have changed."

"Then I'll help you." Connie smiles, sly and mischievous. She's our biggest cheerleader, and I know she'll come up with something. She probably already has. "It's simple, yet effective. How about tomorrow night?"

Adam walks into the locker room, hair lit honey-blonde and looking soft. He refuses to meet my eyes as he perches on the end of the bench opposite me.

"Hey, Adam," I say, unable to hide the bit of hope that underlies my words.

He looks over and smiles, ever so slightly. He stands, though, and starts moving toward the door. "I, um," he coughs a little," if Connie gets here, tell her I'll meet her back in Charlie and Guy's room." A small part of me notes that he didn't say "my room," and that small part is ridiculously happy about that.

"Connie…Connie's not meeting you here."

He stops and turns to me. "Oh, did she come by and say -- ?"

"No, she's not -- I want to talk to you."

He narrows his eyes. "What, this is a set-up?" He shakes his head and continues moving toward the door.

"I was afraid you wouldn't talk to me if I approached you."

"I told you to let me make the next move, Dwayne. Why take matters into your own hands again? I can't hear the same things over and over. I wears on me; I just can't listen to it again."

Adam reaches for the door handle.

"No, wait!"

He doesn't stop.

"Adam." I'm across the room in an instant, holding my hand against the door so he can't open it.

"Listen to me." I take a deep breath and wish I had this all scripted in my mind. I know exactly what I want to say, I'm just not quite sure how to say it.

Adam has stepped away from the door and his gaze has softened. He's only ever a pushover with me, and it's kind of nice to know I have that effect on him.

"Adam, I know these past few weeks have been rough and awkward, and I'm truly sorry if you've felt sad or angry or disappointed, because it's my fault. I've made some mistakes and have had a poor perception of you and of…the situation. But, Adam…I hate your polo shirts."

He stares at me, "What?"