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Traffic to Santa Monica is so bad that by the time we get there, it’s past noon and I’ve caught up on all my friends’ Instagram stories. Rebecca and Clarissa are having brunch in Malibu (#tfti), Imani is at Big Bear celebrating with her family, and Lana and Tiffany are driving back up to NorCal, blasting old-school Korean hip-hop with the car windows down.

Seeing that my friends are having a good day is enough to make me happy, or at least it is until the cars come to a total standstill. We’re just blocks away from the beach. The road is basically one long parking lot.

“Let’s go to the beach, he said,” I grumble. “It’ll be fun, he said.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Henry laughs. “Come on, we can walk from here. Maybe ten minutes max?”

After saying goodbye to Steve and Portia, we walk the remainder of the way. Like Henry said, it only takes ten minutes to reach our destination.

Santa Monica is as LA as a beach can get. Under the cloudless blue sky, the pier itself is crowded with people fishing, taking pictures, or going into the shops and restaurants. Musicians busk with their guitars and drums, while food carts sell hot dogs and other snacks. And towering over everything is the Ferris wheel, painted in bright red and yellow tones to match the rest of the rides.

In the midst of the hustle and bustle, seagulls fly closely overhead. They occasionally land right in front of us with expressions demanding food, even though Henry and I aren’t eating anything.

“So,” I say. “We’re here. What do you want to do?”

“Let’s go up in the Ferris wheel,” he says. “I heard the view is amazing. Come on, my treat.”

“That’s like the most clichéd thing to do here, but okay.”

I, of course, don’t tell Henry about the many times I’ve fantasized about riding the Ferris wheel on a date. It’d just be too embarrassing.

When we reach it, I expect Henry to go ahead and get our tickets. But instead, he motions me over.

“Here, let’s take a picture together. Just to have something to remember this day by.”

I’m about to lean in closer when a girl exclaims, “Look! It’s Skye Shin and Henry Cho!”

She and her two friends approach us. At first, I think they’re all going to ask Henry for his autograph, but then, they hold out their pens and their Santa Monica brochures tome.

“Can you please sign this?” says the first girl. “You’re such a big inspiration to me. I’ve struggled for such a long time to love my body and... well, seeing you onYou’re My Shining Startotally changed my life.”

“Same,” says one of the girl’s friends. “I was bullied so much in school, and after a while the haters really got to me, you know? I don’t know anything about K-pop but I saw those clips of you standing up to that judge on Twitter. You’reamazing.”

The girls circled around me are of varying sizes and shapes. From skinny to fat, they’re all so beautiful.

“Sure,” I say. “I’d be happy to give you guys my autograph.”

Henry, meanwhile, seems pretty content with being in the back. He snaps a few photos of me signing the girls’ pamphlets.

“Queen Skye in action,” he says with a proud grin.

After the girls leave, Henry switches his phone to selfie mode so he can take a picture of the two of us.

“Actually,” I say. “Here, let me.”

Seeing the girls gave me an idea. I get out my phone and snap a picture of us.

“I’m going to post this,” I say. “And you can repost it to your Instagram. Or Portia can, whatever.”

Henry blinks. “Are you sure?”

“Yup,” I say. “It’s time I stopped hiding from everyone on social media.”

Henry’s mouth widens into his full lopsided grin. He looks like a little kid who woke up to find a Christmas tree full of presents.

“Let’s takeallthe cute pics!” he yells.

I have to laugh at his enthusiasm. “God,” I say. “No wonder you have so many followers on Instagram.”