In between our laughing, kissing, and soul-searching on the bed—my favorite moments thus far—we put on our tourist hats. Literally: a UChicago winter hat with a poof ball for me and a fur-lined ski one for Drew. And for the first time since I’d moved here more than a year ago, I did touristy things like take shivering selfies at the Bean and observe the otters at Shedd Aquarium—things I hadn’t done before because I’d been too focused on school, too shěng qián, too self-conscious, too past-me.

And when Drew told me he wanted a tour of campus so he could have an image in his head when I told him in the future I was in class or walking to the library or getting boba, I took him to all my favorite UChicago spots: Rockefeller Chapel, the Quad, and Saieh Hall, the last of which resulted in a lot of unintended laughs.

“Is this a church?” Drew had asked me. And I’d responded, “Sort of. This is the economics building. But it’s fitting it looks like a church given how the economics department is treated around here.”

As we walked through Saieh, I had whispered to him about Becker and Friedman—the godfathers of UChicago economics—and how it was an honor to study at a place with so many economics Nobel Prize winners but also a little creepy how close it was to a religion here.

Drew took in the Gothic architecture—“Looks like Hogwarts,” he had said—with awe and wistfulness, and my heart ached for the college experience he had missed.

But based on the way his eyes lit up like the moon when he talked about his Art Institute experiences, he was on the right path. Visiting him there and walking around the museum as he told me about his day was another highlight of our time together, and I couldn’t help imagining his paintings on those walls one day. I knew how near impossible that was, but I also believed in him so much I couldn’t not dream it.

Drew made me dream. For him, for myself, for us. I’d been so focused on what I didn’t want for so long that I’d forgotten how to fly among the stars and the moon—where the sun belonged.

Drew CHAPTER 63 SOARING

I’d always thought that finding your partner was equal to finding the person who pushed your buttons the least, but I was wrong. Finding your person was finding a piece of yourself. Finding your best friend.

Finding Chloe.

I knew there were more serious times to come, but because it was inevitable, I tried to focus on the now. How lucky were we to have this little window of sunshine—three suns’ worth?