Cheng, who kisses me deeply. Cheng, who supports my campaigns for every damn thing because he says the world needs more people like me. Cheng, who calls me on my bull without anger. Cheng, who deserves to be appreciated. Who smells good and makes the best waffles and whose arm draped around my shoulder is just about my favorite thing.

Can you cheat on someone thirty-six years away? This is a terrible moment to be so homesick, to miss what I had. But god, it’s flooding me all at once. What about Cheng?

Oh my god, I’m crying. Chaz is open-mouthed.

“What … what is happening?”

I have to focus. This can’t be about me. This is the night in one timeline that Chaz dies at the Ledges. I can make sure he never goes to the quarry at all by making sure he has a memorable night right here, complete with the kiss he deserves. (And I’m sure as hell not letting him out of my sight where the Townies can find him.) For once, I can forget what I want.

“I was just thinking how far away from home I am …” I wipe my eyes and smile the biggest smile, focusing on the great guy in front of me. Maybe one heart can race for two. “And how lucky I am that you’re here.”

“Aww …” Chaz crosses his hands on his chest. “Weese.”

Based on old movies, I’m not sure consent is a big ’80s thing, but I’m still twenty-first-century me, so I don’t spring a sudden move. I fold my hands over his. “Can I kiss you?”

His lips part, in surprise maybe, or maybe because he was going to say no, but then he leans toward me.

The closeness is thrilling. His forehead almost touching mine. I can smell the soap he showers with and the pomade in his hair. Our lips meet, then our tongues. We pull away, just a little, and then kiss again.

It’s fine.

Which means it isn’t.

The chemistry I have with Cheng—it’s not there. My giddiness leading up to the moment has been replaced by calm awareness that, in the end, I may have done what I set out to do, but there were no fireworks. Not for me at least. I hope to god that he can’t tell. And since it’s his first kiss with a guy, I think I’m safe.

He steps back. “Huh.”

I step back. “Huh?”

“Nothing. I mean … thank you.” This comes out so half-hearted. I know the jig is up.

“ ‘Thank you’? That’s a weird thing to say.”

“I …” He looks away for a moment. He’s deciding how honest to be. Apparently, very honest. “You weren’t very into it.”

“What? I … no! I—” Who renders me speechless? No one. No one! And here I am.