Harlow didn't say anything for a long moment. She just sat there, staring at me, mouth slightly open, like her brain was physically trying to rearrange six weeks of memory around this one sentence.
"Rhys," she said finally. "Our Rhys. The Rhys you're…" She stopped, pressed a hand to her mouth. "The Rhys you almost kissed at the bonfire is the same guy who…."
"Yeah."
"Oh my god." She said it quietly, breathless, like the air had actually left her. "Oh my god, Josie."
"I know."
"You've known this whole time? Since day one?"
"Since the second I saw his name on the class roster."
"And you never said anything. To him. To anyone. For six weeks." She wasn't accusing me, exactly, just trying to fit the timeline together in real time. "You've been sitting in a library with him twice a week,
