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“I don’t dislike kissing.” Alice closed that album and picked another. “I also don’t take pictures of myself while doing it.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Are you judging me?”

“Slightly. Yeah.”

He surprised her by laughing and giving her a wide smile. “How about we just say to each their own and let it go?”

“How about no?” She chuckled. “Why do you do it? I mean, isn’t it weird to look at these after you break up or whatever?”

Takumi pushed the chair back and stood, stretching his arms toward the ceiling and standing on his tiptoes. His shirt rose above the top of his waistband.

(Nothing but abs as far as the eye could see.)

(Who in the hell worked out that much?)

She poked at her soft belly. “No one should be that lean,” she whispered to herself.

“I wouldn’t say weird.” He dropped into a squat before sitting on the floor next to her. “It might hurt a little or it’ll make me laugh if it’s a good memory. If I’m going to document my life, I should try to capture as many important moments as I can, right?”

“So,” Alice began, drawing out the word, “kissing is important to you?”

“Honestly expressing my feelings is important to me.” He flipped a page. There were several pictures of a bonfire at night. A Southeast-Asian guy with dewy brown skin was wrapped in a red blanket, laughing in one photo. “Sometimes that means kissing. Or spending three days editing photos and videos together for my brother. Or letting a girl I just met stay in my house and look through my pictures because she’s scared to go home.”

“I’m notscared. I just don’t want to fight with her.” She fidgeted. And then poked him in the thigh. “Can I tell you something?”

“Why do you always ask first?” He laughed. “Let’s just throw a blanket statement on that right now. Stop asking me and just say whatever you want.”

“Fine.” She made a face at him. “I spend a lot of time trying to figure stuff out. Like, my feelings and sorting through my thoughts. I don’t think I overthink, but I like to know why things are the way they are for me and why they’re different for someone else.”

“I think everyone does that.”

“No, they don’t. At least, I don’t think they do. Not the way I do it,” she said. “So. Like. If I ask you something and it seems strange, I’m not being weird, I’m trying to understand.”

“I haven’t noticed anything strange.”

“Yet.” Alice paused, chewing on her lip for a moment before mumbling, “What kind of feelings do you have for me then?”

Takumi didn’t hesitate. “I told you already. I care about you. I worry.”

She kept her eyes on the photo album. “Why?” He had already done so much and it was beginning to weigh on her.

“I don’t know. I don’t think it’s important to figure that out right now. I know how I feel—that’s good enough for me. But I get why you’re asking. I know how this seems.” He gestured to the album on her lap. “Yeah, I’ve dated around some, but I’m actually really picky about who I decide to date and sometimes, even be friends with.”

“How come?”

“Well, for dating, sometimes I can’t tell if someone likes me or if they like me because I’m East Asian and moderately good-looking.”

(MODERATELY. OKAY.)

He continued, “One girl stopped talking to me when I asked her to stop calling me Oppa because I’m not Korean.”

“Yikes.” Alice winced. “I’ve gotten the Black-girl version of that before, so I know how that feels.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t know that, which was why I was unsure about you at first. Part of me was like ‘She’s so cute’ and the other part was like ‘… What if she’s one of those girls? I should stay away from her for my own good.’ But thenyou’dsay something completely out of left field and smile, and it would reel my right back in.”

“You like my smile?” she asked, trying not to do that very thing.

“It’s a good one.” He jumped to his feet and held out his hands. “Let’s go for a walk.”