Page 27 of The Equation of Us

“I gathered that.” I stand from the rock, keeping some distance between us. “Were you at practice yesterday?”

She hesitates, then nods. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.” She looks away, out at the darkening valley. “Curiosity, I guess.”

“About?”

“You.” She says it simply, without artifice. “About who you are when you’re not in a classroom or a tutoring center. When you’re doing something you love.”

Her honesty disarms me. I expected deflection, maybe humor to defuse the tension. Not this direct acknowledgment of what’s been building between us. I like it much more than I should.

“And what did you see?” I ask, my voice lower than I intended.

She meets my eyes then. “Someone different than I expected. Someone who loves the game. Who laughs with his teammates. Who’s powerful and fast and—” She breaks off, color rising in her cheeks. “Well, you read the text.”

A smile tugs at my mouth despite my efforts to suppress it. “I did.”

“It’s embarrassing,” she says, crossing her arms. “Can we just forget about it?”

“Is that what you want?” I take a step closer. “To forget about it?”

She doesn’t answer immediately. Her eyes search mine, and I see the conflict there—caution warring with curiosity, restraint battling desire.

“No,” she says finally. “That’s not what I want.”

The admission hangs in the air between us, honest and dangerous.

“What do you want, Nora?” I ask, and it feels like the most important question I’ve ever asked.

She takes a deep breath. “I want—” she stops, recalibrates. “I can’t stop thinking about what you said. In my room. About wanting all of me.”

“I meant it.”

“I know.” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, a nervous gesture I’ve noticed before. “And I can’t stop thinking about what Daphne said. About how you are. What you like.”

Heat curls through me, low and insistent. “And that interests you?”

“Yes.” She says it without hesitation. “It does.”

There’s a long moment where neither of us speaks. The only sound is the rustle of leaves in the light breeze, the distant call of birds settling for the night.

“We shouldn’t do this,” I say, even as I take another step toward her. “The tutoring relationship—”

“I could get reassigned,” she interrupts. “Or we could keep it professional there. Separate.”

She’s thought about this. Planned for contingencies. It’s so perfectly Nora that it makes my chest ache.

“It’s not just that.” I stop an arm’s length away from her. “There’s Daphne to consider. And my focus needs to be on the Archer Initiative right now. And—”

“We could keep it simple,” she says, cutting me off again. “No strings. No expectations. Just… this. Whatever this is.”

“Friends with benefits,” I say flatly.

She nods. “Something like that.”

“And you think we could do that? Keep it casual?” I search her face, looking for doubt, for hesitation.

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