It gives me somewhere to go

Is there anything I can do to make it easier for you during the upcoming job? Like any traditions you want to do?

Wait didn’t you say your family eats Sichuan food around the holidays? Well if that was a true story

It’s true

But um…

What?

Sorry, as lovely as that sounds and as kind as it is that you remembered, it goes against one of my rules

?

Pause.

You have to tell me!

I try to stay away from intestinally unfriendly foods while on the job, just in case

No shit

Correction: No gas

Shit’s ok though

Okay

No Sichuan food

Or escolar or beans or ghost peppers

Much appreciated

Chloe CHAPTER 22 BA-BOOP-BOOP

December 17

My password-protected Rent for Your ’Rents app—which showed up on my phone screen as HOMEWORK PLANNER, one of five stealth shields offered—went ba-boop-boop, reminding me that the payment (minus the already-paid booking fee) for Andrew’s upcoming rental was due in four days.

I had to get my shit together. Finals had ended and though I was three days into the paid research-assistant gig I had recently nabbed with my favorite professor, the paperwork and thus payment hadn’t gone through yet. And, more importantly, with the help of that trusty ba-boop-boop, I had been reminded of how complicated my texting with Andrew was. Mostly because my feelings had gotten more involved than I would’ve preferred, and now was the time to untangle that mess so it didn’t affect the very important, life-altering mission ahead of us.

No more texts, not with the boy beneath the role.

Drew

Her loving my sheep pajamas (and even trying to come up with some of her own), telling me about Jerry’s tight ass… it made me forget my rules for the first time.

But then she didn’t text for the next four days.

December 21, 1:45 p.m. CST

<Chloe>

Payment should have just gone through

<Drew>

I know, my app just pinged

Actually it went ba-boop-boop

Annnd confirmed on my end

I’m looking forward to seeing you

Good

You’re already in character

Drew CHAPTER 23 ELIZA SCHUYLER

December 21

“Why do you seem so nervous?” Jason asked me.

I was ironing clothes for a date tonight (as in a date date, not a job) and for my upcoming week with the Wangs, which would start in two days.

“I’m not nervous,” I said calmly, using my training to sell it (I looked him in the eye, breathed not too fast or slow or loud, and continued spraying water and ironing as if I weren’t fazed). Really, though, my stomach was knotted tighter than one of my grandfather’s red Zhōngguó jié wall hangings. Because I was losing it.