Honestly, we’d said about ten words to each other at dinner (three of which had been “I like art”), and she’d been on her phone a lot. I was pretty sure I even saw her swiping right and left with a suspicious rhythm, which, fine, yes, we weren’t hitting it off, but she couldn’t wait until I wasn’t in front of her face?

The date had not only been a Mentos-in-Coke explosion, but it had also massively backfired, making me think about Jing-Jing and our easy conversation more.

I took the scarf off and angrily stuffed it in my bag.

When the little car on the Uber app approached my spot, I picked up the poinsettia at my feet and emerged onto the street.

“Hey,” Jing-Jing said with a small, nervous smile when I opened the door.

I climbed in and tried not to give her a sappy grin.

“Hey,” I said, all the extras dying on my tongue: I’m so happy to see you. You look nice. I’ve been painting sheep in weird outfits for you, but you’ll never know because that’s just strange.

“Are you ready?” she asked.

“Of course. Are you?”

She shrugged, then chewed her bottom lip. “My mom may have taken a step back, so… just be prepared. Okay, that’s an understatement. She definitely took twenty steps back. Hongbo’s parents have been wooing her.”

I—Drew—was about to respond and reassure her when the Uber driver interrupted. “Why did I pick you up there? You could’ve walked to the destination.”

That happened maybe one out of five times.

But we were already pulling up to the now-familiar three-bedroom, three-bathroom gray house with its bright red door. Jing-Jing and I exited the car without answering his question.

Right before she rang the doorbell, I raised an arm to block her path, taking care not to make physical contact.

She flinched anyway, sending a pang and, more importantly, a reminder, through me.

“Yes?” she asked, her voice soft but her body tense.

I reluctantly let my training take over, flipping the Andrew switch.

I smiled at her in the way that was supposed to relax the client (corporate made us practice in the mirror, then with each other). “Hey. This will go great. It’s not unusual for the parents to have taken a step back with time, no matter how well the first job went. And regardless, we’ll have some fun.” I gestured to her face. “Your current expression might make your parents think you’re just constipated, but it also might make them think we’re going through a rough patch, which isn’t the best way to start this off.”

She laughed, just as I’d hoped, then pressed the doorbell with an upward tilt to her lips. “What if I’m also constipated?”

“Then I’ll run out and get you some prunes.”