“Come on.” Missus Griffiths led me upstairs. “They’re in Shi’s room.”

She nudged her door open, and I caught a bit of SZA playing low through wireless speakers. Shi’s bedroom was huge. Big enough for a king bed, a desk like you’d see in the principal’s office, her own beat-up couch, and, of course, a baby’s crib. Shi, in baggy sweats, thick socks, and a Serena Williams Nike shirt, was tucked into the corner of her couch, bouncing Zoey lightly while scrolling through her phone.

Missus Griffiths said, “I’ll take her so you two can focus.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Shi handed the child over.

“Thank me by working hard.”

Missus Griffiths left us, and Shi said, “Hey, close the door.”

I hesitated. “Your parents cool with that?”

“It’s you, Del.”

That stung in an unexpected way. I imagined her parents having discussed the possibility of me and their daughter getting into some lewd, X-rated behavior, then cracking up hysterically like naw, not him! As if it was so ridiculous to believe me and Shi capable of anything beyond this platonic and lucrative arrangement. I shook off the hurt and sealed us in, focusing on that crisp currency in my pocket. Flopping in her desk chair, I said, “What subject do you want to cover tonight?”

“I’m really interested in binging some Hulu.” She switched from phone to the iPad on her nightstand, and fell back onto her bed, the tablet propped on her chest.

“Works for me.” I’d brought along my laptop, and opened a browser. I tried some aimless surfing for a while, then checked IG and Snapchat on my phone, but nothing really interesting was popping. When my usual procrastination options were exhausted, I found myself thinking of Purity Pledger questions from that hat, ones we never got to, but I might’ve peeked at before we left the library.

At the Google search bar I typed: What’s the correct way to kiss?

There were mad results! Almost information overload. Pictures. Step-by-step instructions. A disproportionate amount of the pages focused on a rainy scene from some old movie called The Notebook. I read through about a dozen articles, and found it really was a toss-up.

I mean, kissing was something I had limited experience with, but the correct way and the wrong way were subjective, right? “Shi,” I said, “if I asked you to describe the correct way to kiss, what would you say?”

“Low spit.”

I spun the chair. “That’s it?”

Her tablet still blocked her face, and she flexed her socked feet like she was dancing. “Use lip balm. Flavored. I like strawberry.”

“That seems very specific.”

“You asked.”

Jotting down some notes, I decided to revisit that question, and moved onto another wedged in my memory: What’s too young to fall in love, and is love the same as lust?

That’s kind of deep. “Shi, what do you think about this?” I read it to her.

She placed her tablet aside and came to me. “What are you doing?”