JJ and I went to see Coach Faulkner, and luckily, he was in great spirits. He always is after two weeks without us. He's a family guy through and through, and despite how fucking terrifying he is, he’s a soft girl dad, so he loves having the holidays off with them.

He doesn't talk about his girls much. Imogen and Thea are at least in their late teens now, but I'm too scared to ask — even if it's to be polite.

Faulkner confirmed what Lols said, which was both a relief and a stress. Aaron got a clean bill of health while he was back in Chicago for Christmas; Brady emailed him this morning to say everything will be back to normal tomorrow.

"Cheer the fuck up," Coach demanded when I wasn't as overjoyed as he was expecting. "If this is about that girl, Hawkins, I swear to God..."

"they my partner, sir."

He sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and finger. "Just what you needed in your senior year—a partner. For the love of God, make sure you use protection. I mean it, for both of your sakes, wrap it up."

JJ snorts beside me, until Faulkner spears him with one of his famous glares. "Don't even get me started on you, Johal."