“Here are your choices. Pick wisely, and be sure to shade in the bubble completely with your number two pencil,” he says. “A) Come out to the bar with me and my friends, and put us all to shame with some B*Dazzled karaoke.” I blush, both embarrassed and thrilled that he remembered my favorite childhood girl-band—one of the many small details I shared with him tonight. “B) Go back to the hotel, forget this night ever happened, and tell Juhyun and Hyeri you tried to meet up with Alex, but you were waylaid by some vicious MRT train doors. Or C) Be responsible and go back to the hotel, but get Alex’s number and promise to text him later.”

My heart flutters. “I’ll take C.”

“Good choice,” he says, grinning back.

We take the MRT back to Orchard Road after he insists on seeing me back home. As we board the train, he makes a hilarious, exaggerated show of holding the door open for me and making sure my bag is safely inside, which makes me laugh harder than I knew I was capable of laughing at myself. His dorkiness about it suddenly makes me feel way less humiliated than I did at the beginning of the evening.

We sit next to each other on the train, and I keep mentally replaying sitting in his lap. Our legs are touching because the seats are so narrow, and part of me is tempted to take his hand, but that would be ridiculous. When we emerge back onto the street, it’s no longer teeming with shoppers. Most of the shops are all closed now, their neon lights and signs glowing softly against the night sky. I take a deep breath, letting myself fall completely in love with Singapore. As we pass by the store with the Balenciaga bag, I pause to look through the window. Even from afar, in the dim lighting, it’s so beautiful.

“What’s up?” Alex asks, noticing that I stopped walking.

“That’s my dream bag right there,” I sigh, pointing it out.

He squints through the window. “That blue one? What’s so special about it?”

What’s so special? Are you kidding me? I whirl on him, shocked. “It’s a Balenciaga, Alex.”

He stares at me. “I’m familiar. But I repeat the question.” The look he gives me is like a challenge, and I realize that for a boy who wears Hermès loafers, he’s not impressed simply by a designer name.