Alexis. That was Juhyun’s floormate’s name, my brain informs me approximately way too late. As for Cute Guy (Alex, I correct myself internally), I definitely have no memory of meeting him at Stanford—and trust me, I would have remembered. I gape at him, at a total loss for words. He stands there smiling with that damn dimple, his hand hanging awkwardly in the air. Another second ticks by, and I see his smile growing uncertain.

“Hi, hi! Please sit,” I say, remembering my manners. I quickly rise to shake his hand and gesture to the seat across from me, knocking over a napkin rack in the process. “Sorry,” I blush. “For earlier, I mean. On the train. And also for right now.” Oh my god, Rachel. Stop. Rambling. “I swear, I’m not usually this awkward.” I take a sip of my espresso, attempting to hide my face in the tiny cup.

He laughs and runs a hand through his well-groomed black hair. “Seriously, don’t worry about it. Why don’t we start fresh? Pretend we’ve never shared a metro seat before. Would that help?”

I take a deep breath. Okay, yes. Pretend like it never happened. I can get on board with this. “That would be great.”

“Okay. Hi, I’m Alex Jeon. Pleased to meet you for the first time ever and definitely not on a moving train.”

“Rachel Kim,” I say, smiling. Inwardly my brain has transitioned from screaming about how embarrassed I should feel to screaming about how adorably sweet this very cute Cute Guy is being right now. WHAT. IS. HAPPENING. “Pleased to meet you, too.”

“Well, Rachel, now that we’ve met for the first time without having ever laid eyes on each other before, I have to tell you about something hilarious that happened to me on the metro,” he says with a good-humored grin.

Two espressos and half a chocolate lava cake later, I’ve learned that Alex is Korean American like me, and grew up in New York but lives in Hong Kong now; that he studied business at Stanford and was a grad student when the twins were at uni; that he loves kalguksu and hates pomegranate soju; that he is the oldest of three brothers; and that he’s allergic to cats, but always loads up on Benadryl to visit his grandmother because she has three, all named after her favorite crooners from the ’50s: Elvis, Fats Domino, and Little Richie.

Talking to Alex is surprisingly easy. He’s charming and funny and attentive, and I almost can’t believe that we literally just met. I feel like I’ve known him for years already. The Cho twins were right when they said we’d get along.