“I just—I don’t understand why you’re telling me this,” I blurt out. “Why now? Since when did you even—” And he actually laughs, though there’s no humor in it. “Well, you haven’t exactly made it easy for me.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” “Eliza,” he says, shaking his head. “I’m usually pretty good with this stuff, but when it comes to you—one second you’re saying things that sound so sincere, like you might really like me, and you’re making me those paper cranes … And the next you’re telling me that you’re only doing this for your internship, that every sincere-sounding thing that comes out
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