I scoop a spoonful of bingsu into my mouth as a little self-reward for finally telling Celeste what I want. It melts in my mouth, so good that my eyes roll to the back of my head. When I look up from the dessert, Celeste is staring at me, her mouth slightly open. Her gaze slides down to my lips, her eyes growing dark and wanting.

My mouth feels sticky, and I dab my lips with a napkin. Sure enough, the cloth comes back with blotches of cream. Before I can stop her, Celeste reaches over and runs her thumb across my lips.

“Here,” she says. “You missed a spot.” Her gentle yet possessive tone makes a shiver run down my spine.

“So,” I say when I’m able to speak again. “What do you say?”

Celeste takes a bite of her crepe, looking deep in thought as she chews. I have some more of my own dessert, keeping my eyes on my bowl this time.

After she swallows, she finally says, “I’m down to see you casually, too. But only if you’re okay with the fact that I’m returning to LA once we finish the project. And I don’t know when I’ll next come up north.”

Even though it’s not a surprise, my heart squeezes at the very thought of Celeste leaving again. But I shoo that feeling away. We’re going to have fun. That’s all.

“Sounds good,” I say. “Speaking of the project, we should also talk about the next interview.”

“Of course.”

“I know Evelyn wants us to interview Rob and Marge, but what do you think about also interviewing a sapphic elderly couple?” I ask. “Because I don’t know about you, but when I was growing up, I hardly saw any older queer women. On TV or in person.”

Celeste sits up in her seat. “I didn’t grow up seeing any queer elders in Korea,” she says. “Not any that were out, anyway. So I think that’s an excellent idea. Do you think Evelyn will approve?”

“Knowing her, she most likely will. I remember reading an article once about how young queer people are more likely to… harm themselves because they don’t think they can have happily-ever-afters. While hetero couples get that kind of representation all the time.”

I apparently struck a nerve, because Celeste grows extremely still.

“Yeah, I think this interview will be great,” she says quietly. “Maybe we can also try to find a non-white couple for this last interview. Since Rob and Marge are white and so were Aaron and Brent.”

By the time we finish our food, I’ve sent Evelyn an email detailing everything.

“We work well together, Gem,” Celeste remarks as we exit the café. From her low, sultry tone, I know she doesn’t mean just professionally.

Her lips are centimeters away from mine when I reply, “We always have.”