I experience the rare thrill of discovering what he’s like when he’s in love and it’s no longer a secret. The second we’re alone together anywhere—in an elevator that moves at half the speed of the ones in Shanghai, in the empty corner of the bookstore he frequents on weekends, in the parking lot behind the mall—he’s drawing me to his chest, his fingers sliding over my waist, and it’s so natural, so right, it’s like I’ve loved him my whole life. Everything feels natural with him. Like how he kisses me when we’re waiting at the traffic lights and when we’re halfway through the door, or how he keeps a protective arm around me through every crowd, how I nuzzle against his shoulder while he’s browsing through takeout options for dinner, my legs dangling off the love seat. Xiaolongbao, sushi, or hot pot tonight? he asks. Anything sounds good, I say, but I’m secretly craving xiaolongbao, the crab roe kind, and I can’t conceal my delight when that’s exactly what arrives as if he’s read my mind.

I still wear makeup when I want to, but on nights where I get tired of how heavy the products feel on my skin, or in the mornings when I’m simply too lazy to spend ten minutes blending out my eye shadow, I choose to go without it. In the beginning, my face feels raw and tender and exposed, but Cyrus reassures me, It’s nothing I haven’t seen before, then points to his own face: Look, I’m not wearing any makeup either. He tells me I’m pretty like it’s what everyone else is thinking, and the miracle of it all is I know he means it.

“Miss me?” Cyrus asks, grinning, as I join him at the front of the gym.

“I saw you only, like, sixteen hours ago,” I point out.

“Right,” he says, his grin widening. “Not that you’re keeping count or anything.”

I roll my eyes, but I doubt it’s convincing when the corners of my lips keep twitching upward. “Definitely not.”

“I missed you too,” he tells me, leaning closer, his breath tantalizingly warm against my neck. Then he rights himself again, all serious, the picture of the perfect student as more families and teachers start trickling indoors.

I catch sight of Daisy entering with her parents, who I’ve already met twice now at her house and who refused to let me leave without bringing a full basket of homegrown plums and two containers of frozen pork dumplings with me. I wave at her dramatically, as if I’m stranded on a remote island and trying to capture the attention of a passing helicopter. It’s the kind of thing I’d be too embarrassed to do around Cate and her friends, but Daisy matches my enthusiasm and mouths, Good luck.