And then I felt so guilty for squandering this opportunity and my parents’ hard-earned money—I even calculated how much each lecture cost, and it wasn’t for the faint of heart—that a few days before Drew’s arrival, I started leaving my phone at home.

I felt naked walking out the door without it. At least I wasn’t missing much—just my music—since I wasn’t looking at my phone while outside, not in Chicago in January. It was currently the freeze-your-face-off kind of weather, which made me hurry home after class to warn pampered California-born Drew.

<Chloe>

You have a winter coat, right?

<Drew>

I’m borrowing Jason’s

He’s a skier

You need accessories too

Like what?

Like whatever you can find

Scarves, heavy-duty gloves, earmuffs, wool socks, boots

And I have little hand warmer hot packs you can borrow

You’re being funny, right?

From one Californian to another, trust me

Shit ok

I guess I need to cross boating and lakeside picnic off our list of possible dates

Snuggling with hot chocolate in front of a fire is just as romantic

I’ll bring the marshmallows!

And finally, after what felt like an eternity, the last Friday in January was upon me. The day of Drew’s arrival. I was about to see him this afternoon. In Chicago. My real home. I was so excited my head was spinning.

An hour before his plane was supposed to land, I’d cleaned my dorm room, showered, put on two layers of deodorant, and paced my room only about a thousand times.

I focused on the time we would have together, not the fact that this was likely the last stretch during which I could have my mooncake and eat it too. I wanted to see this visit as a privilege, not the final, lonely grain of sand passing through the hourglass.

I reread the list of date ideas I’d written up. I sniffed my sheets for the thirtieth time just to make absolute sure, even though I’d used an entire cup of detergent and, for the first time, fabric softener.

I wanted to know what Drew was thinking right now. Would he be able to focus on the present, or would he be preoccupied with what was inevitably coming? Would we be staying here in my dorm—hence the fresh sheets—or at his hotel, where the bed was likely bigger? Or not together at all? Was it presumptuous to have an overnight bag packed? What was the etiquette for this type of thing?

Yes, I had to change into a fresh shirt right before he arrived.

Drew texted when his Uber was close. I bundled up, clomped down the stairs to the entrance, then flew straight into his arms, knocking his suitcase over.