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“I guess it’s better that you see it now. That’s the future you have to look forward to,” he says with a smile, totally unaware how those words make me feel some type of way.

I kiss his cheek and cuddle in close. “Oh, do I?”

The night feels like magic. We eat course after courseserved by waiters in white tuxedos. We dance with our parents to the Cupid Shuffle, which I’m pretty sure they requested from the DJ.

We don’t, thankfully, see Natalia or her family all night. I’m sure that Alex likes me, wants to be with me—but that doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be awkward.

And when we’re all sweaty and giddy and buzzing from the sugary crepes that they served for dessert, the DJ finally plays the first slow song of the night.

It’s a Leon Bridges song I’ve heard before, peak sappy Mom Jamz, but as Alex takes my hand and leads me to the center of the floor, looking at me intently, adoringly, like there’s no one else in the room, it starts to feel like it’s a song written just for us.

He wraps his hands around my hips and presses our foreheads together, rocking me to the music. He begins to mouth the lyrics to the song, his brown eyes locked on mine.

My heart is racing. I know he can feel it with us this close. And words appear in my mind, echoing the beat:What if? What if? What if?

What if my life can turn out totally different than I planned? What if things I thought were not possible for me... are?

I didn’t think I would find anything like...whateverthis is, with Alex. I didn’t think this was meant for me.

And if this is possible, what if everything else—everything I haven’t even dared to consider—is too? What if I could have freedom to figure my future out? To take my time, to really throw myself into something. To not worry about being thebest, not worry about messing up, because I can just try again.

Because my parents have been right. I don’t know what I want. I don’t know what my path should be.

But Idoknow that I want that to be okay. For now.

“Lenore, what’s up?” Alex asks. I must look confused because he clarifies, “I could tell from your face that you went somewhere else. No pressure, but if you want to talk... I’m here.”

And I feel this overwhelming urge to tell him everything. Because I know he’ll listen. I know he’ll assume the very best of me. He has so far.

The DJ has switched back to some fast Motown song. I look around for our parents and see that they’ve already organized two lines of dancers, and they’re whooping and hollering as couples shimmy down the middle. They’re distracted and probably will be for a while.

“Yeah, let’s talk. Maybe... in your room?”

He threads his fingers through mine and leads the way.

The lights are off in Alex’s room, but the reflection of the moon is bright against the water, shining in from his open curtains. He takes off his jacket, draping it across the miniature sofa, and flicks on the lamp next to his bed. We sit down, still holding hands, and I remember the last time we were here, barely tolerating each other. It all changed so fast, but it doesn’t feel too fast. Everything with Alex feels just right.

He brushes his lips against my temple, and I think thatmaybe we’re going to throw this whole conversation out and do more entertaining things, which I would be totally fine with. But he pulls away and searches my eyes. “So, what’s going on? You’ve got this, like, Disney princess face, you know? I can read every feeling on it.”

“Well, first of all, the only Black Disney princess is a frog for most of the movie, so—”

He cuts me off. “Be real. Just tell me.”

And so I do. I tell him all about how I’m considering blowing up my whole life the summer before my freshman year. How I think the solution to my parents’ push for focus is no focus at all.

“I want to keep pursuing my art,” I say as he nods encouragingly. “Maybe photography, maybe fashion, maybe something else completely different I haven’t even discovered yet. But I think...I knowI want to do it just for myself. And maybe... without that pressure to be perfect, to be the best, I won’t keep psyching myself out and jumping ship before I even have a chance to fully explore what I can do. I don’t know. I DON’T KNOW. Does any of that make sense?”

His arm that’s around my waist pulls me in closer.

“It makes sense to me,” he says. “But are you going to be doing this all at NYU? I know you laughed at the gap year suggestion before, but I think you should seriously consider it. You shouldn’t go all the way to New York if you don’t want to... and, like, correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think you do, Lenore.”

Do I want to go to NYU? The place I felt like I was supposed to go? In the city I felt like I was supposed to love?

No. Not at all.

I want to stay in Long Beach, the place I know I love already.

“I don’t want to move to New York,” I say. It’s such a relief to be honest. “I don’t want to move at all. I... IknowI don’t want to go to college this fall. Not yet. I want to stay in Long Beach and... make art. On my terms.”