I examined mine, too, focusing on the paintbrush callus on the side of my right middle finger. We sat in silence for a minute (an awkward one—a first for us), and I fought the urge to twiddle my thumbs. Or maybe I shouldn’t fight it, to show her what Drew was like. Except she already knew about my fidgeting, I remembered (her eyes had followed my movements that night in the kitchen right before she’d asked me how to turn off part of her brain, and then again after our Christmas-ornament fight).

She opened her mouth, then closed it. My head shot up. Then I had to force myself to wait patiently.

Eventually she said, “Sometimes I can’t tell if there’s actually something here or if it’s just because you know so much about me that you know how to… I don’t want to say ‘manipulate,’ but you know what I mean. You know the right buttons to push for me. Because of the application.”

I nodded to show my understanding. “Does it help you to know that in the year and a half I’ve been doing this, it has never been like this, not even close?”

“Yes, but… I don’t know, something’s holding me back.”

After a hesitant beat I said, “Your parents?”

Chloe

It’s always my parents.

Every time, without fail, they came first.

Drew’s serious eyes met mine, boring into them to make sure I heard what was coming next. “Chloe, I’m not saying this in reference to you getting to know me, but in general. It’s okay for you to try to be happy. You fighting for a life without Hongbo? Admirable and necessary. In fact, it’s making me rethink some of my own decisions. Maybe today can be a start, not an exception.”

“It’s not that simple. How my parents feel affects me, too.” Though it’s decreasing the more they show me they don’t care about my happiness.

“I understand,” he said.

The only person who had ever cared about how I felt was right in front of me, and I was pushing him away.

Why was I fighting this so damn hard? He was asking me to get to know him. It should have been a no-brainer.

But… if we moved forward, we would be on borrowed time, with the prospect of my parents finding out—either from us or, horrors, on their own—looming over us. Could we even be happy under those circumstances?

Then I thought about the counterfactual scenario where I let Drew go without trying. Would I be okay with that? With not knowing him or where this could possibly go?

Abso-fucking-lutely not.

That would be letting my parents win. Again.