“Hey, you got this,” Alex says, seeing me on the verge of hyperventilating. “The designs don’t have to be nearly as polished as the ones you first presented to Celeste.” He reaches over again, to once again hold my hand in his. “I’ll be there for you the whole way. And you can just hand in sketches and still blow them away. I’ve seen everything you’ve been able to come up with in your sketchbook. You’re brilliant, you’re creative, you’re talented.”

It feels good to get a pep talk from him, and it feels good to be holding his hand.

The car pulls up to the villa all too soon. I look regretfully out the window and sigh again. “I wish you were staying longer. This was so short.”

“Same,” Alex says, putting the car in park.

I smile and lean forward to kiss him. His lips are warm and soft, and as his hands gently trail down my waist, I fall deeper into the kiss. I press my palm against the back of his neck and he pulls me closer, more urgent now. We’re kissing and kissing and kissing and I can’t imagine ever wanting to stop. But eventually, I start to feel the presence of that nine-hundred-pound RealityCheck Gorilla again, and I force myself to lightly pull away.

“I should go in,” I say quietly, our foreheads pressed together.

“Mm-hmm, right,” he says back, his voice hoarse.

We sit that way for a few seconds, just listening to each other breathe. Finally, he takes my hands and kisses my knuckles.

“Good night, Rachel,” he says.

“Good night, Alex,” I whisper back.

I step out of the car and into the warm June breeze before turning back to blow him a kiss. And then I run inside, before the magic of this pretty near-perfect night can slip away.

The next morning, after I hop out of the shower, I find the girls sitting around the kitchen, eating breakfast. Everyone, that is, but Eunji.

“Is Eunji still sleeping?” I ask Lizzie, who shares a room with her.

“She went out not too long ago,” Lizzie says. “Why?”

“Just wondering,” I say. I wanted to ask her how the rest of her night with Geonwu went. Just as I’m thinking about texting her, my phone pings with an incoming message.

It’s Mr. Noh.

Mr. Noh: Rachel, please come to DB headquarters IMMEDIATELY.

My stomach lurches.

Mr. Noh hardly ever texts me directly, and he’s never told me to come into headquarters “IMMEDIATELY” in all caps before. This must be serious. I rush to my bedroom to get ready, twisting my still-wet hair into a bun and throwing on a pair of jeans with a loose striped tee. The whole way to headquarters, I reread Mr. Noh’s message, looking for clues on what this might be about.