She’s not wrong. But despite the street’s grunginess, when we round the corner onto Hollywood Boulevard, we are swarmed by humans. People are everywhere, pointing at the ground, pausing to look at faded red stars with names written in their center. This street is a million times dirtier than the one we were just on, but people don’t seem to care. They ooh and aah over the pavement like they’re seeing a giant squid for the first time. Except instead of tentacles splaying everywhere, it’s spilled milkshake and dirt-crusted flyers.

I cross my arms in front of my chest. “I still don’t get it. This is the romantic date environment that is going to convince Dominic to take you back? If his standards are this low, maybe you should reconsider.”

“Just wait and see,” Sean says. He reaches into his pocket to pull out his phone and a pair of earbuds. “May I?” He motions to put the headphone in my ear. I nod, and he’s tender and gentle with his thick fingers, like he’s holding the most precious shell and is worried he’ll crush it.

It’s surprisingly intimate. The way his fingers caress my ear sends a shiver down my spine that I feel in my heart, my gut, and other . . . places. How can fingers do this? Again, something so small making so much sensation. First lips, now fingers.

“Are you ready?” Sean asks, looking deep into my eyes, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

Kavya starts coughing, but I swear it sounds like “L-word.” Whatever that means.

Sean glares at her, then takes my hand, lacing his fingers between mine. The calluses on his palms scratch against my smooth ones, now sending tingles through my hand. It’s not the first time I’ve felt them considering how much our hands have been together while we watched movies on the couch. But that always felt more absentminded, more me getting my energy out and needing to feel someone’s presence nearby like I always did back home. There’s something about him taking the lead here that makes this feel more special. Intentional.

“Okay, now follow me.” Sean pulls me down the street, into the crowds of people staring at the disgusting sidewalk like idiots. “Look down,” Sean commands, and I expect to find some depressing pile of trash. But instead, I’m staring at a star with the name Lucille Ball written in it. Sean puts his phone in front of my face, a YouTube video cued up. “This is Lucy,” he says, then presses play.