“I’m so glad you’re not dead,” Daisy tells me over the roar of the blow-dryer. It’s the twentieth time she’s uttered some variation of this sentiment since I returned to our hotel room approximately half an hour ago, and she’s sounded fully earnest each time. When she’d flung open the door to greet me, she’d looked ready to burst into tears of relief. “We thought you’d been eaten by a bear.”

“I’m really glad I’m not dead either,” I say, running my fingers through the damp ends of my hair to make it dry faster. I still feel a little shaky, but only in the way where you’ve already woken from the bad dream and can be sure that you’re safe in your bed. The warm shower has helped wash away most of the dirt and leftover adrenaline. “Sorry to make you guys worry.”

“I think Cyrus was more worried than any of us,” Daisy says, drawing her knees to her chest on the couch. “He was the first person to notice you were gone.”

I turn the blow-dryer off, and in the sudden silence, I hear myself swallow. “He was?”

She nods. “Honestly, he looked like he was about to lose his mind if anything happened to you.”

I remember that moment when he found me, how his arms had tightened around my body. It’s so easy to sink into the memory—to relive every detail, from the sweetness of his scent to the hitch in his breath—that when my phone chimes from the counter, it feels like being hauled up from somewhere deep underwater. I set the blow-dryer down, then hastily pat my hands dry on a towel and open my phone to the newest message.

It’s Cyrus.

can you come to my hotel room?

I stare down at the words, and my heart betrays me by skipping a stupid beat.

Then more messages pop up, sent in quick succession, like he’s also just realized how his invitation sounds.

for the photos

we still need to choose the photos from today

Either he’s thinking about the competition or it’s a cover for what he’s actually thinking about, an excuse to invite me over. I’m hoping it’s the latter. I glance at the clock—there are only ten minutes left until curfew, which is when Wang Laoshi transforms from a mildly disgruntled teacher into a deeply disgruntled security guard.

This could be the moment I’ve been working toward the entire trip. If all goes well tonight—if I’m charming enough, pretty enough, smooth enough—I might finally be able to secure my grip on Cyrus’s heart and crush it, just like I planned.

Because I definitely shouldn’t be softening toward him.

Because I definitely, absolutely still want to get my revenge.

“Do you need to go somewhere?” Daisy asks.