Page 67 of The Equation of Us

But I keep my expression neutral.

“Yeah, it was after I found him crying in his car. It was the only time I ever saw him break down completely.” She shakes her head slightly. “He’s usually so controlled, you know? But that night… it was like watching someone shatter.”

My chest tightens at the image—Dean, always so careful and contained, breaking down alone in his car. The Dean I know has shown me vulnerability, yes, but measured, deliberate. The kind you choose to reveal, not the kind that overwhelms you.

“Why are you telling me this?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.

Daphne looks slightly taken aback by my tone. “I don’t know. I guess… working with him on the project, you probably seesides of him I didn’t. And I wanted someone to know I’m not completely heartless. That I know I handled it badly.”

“Have you told him this?” I ask. “That you regret how things ended?”

“Not yet,” she says, picking at her sandwich. “I’m working up to it. It’s not easy admitting you were cruel to someone who was already suffering.”

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. There’s a knot in my throat, a pressure behind my eyes that threatens to become tears if I’m not careful.

“Anyway,” Daphne says, clearly wanting to move past the heaviness of the topic, “enough about my ex-relationship guilt. How’s the lab research going?”

I answer on autopilot, giving her the sanitized version of my oxytocin studies, my mind still reeling from what she’s revealed. Dean showed me Jesse’s photos, told me about the accident, about his guilt for not being there. But he never told me how raw his grief still is around the anniversary. Never told me Daphne ended it when he probably wasn’t thinking clearly. Maybe if he had been, he would have fought for her.

When lunch ends, I hug Daphne goodbye with a hollow feeling in my chest. She walks away thinking she’s unburdened herself, made some kind of amends by acknowledging her past cruelty. She has no idea she’s just complicated everything between Dean and me.

Because now I know something about him that he chose not to share—something intimate, painful, revealed through the woman who hurt him during his most vulnerable moment. And I have no idea how to navigate this new terrain.

Do I tell him what Daphne said? Do I pretend she never confided in me? Do I watch for signs of this grief and try to support him without revealing how I know?

There are no clear answers, no labeled paths through this emotional maze. Just the growing certainty that what’s happening between Dean and me is far more complicated than our carefully constructed rules ever accounted for.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Compromised

Nora

The month of April brings the particular madness of approaching finals—campus coffee consumption triples, the library stays open until 2 AM, and dark circles become the season’s hottest accessory.

For the past week, I’ve barely seen Dean outside of scheduled tutoring. Hockey playoffs combined with end-of-year assessments have him stretched thin, our texts reduced to quick logistics.

It’s Thursday afternoon, warm enough that I’ve ditched my usual jeans for a navy skirt with a crisp white button-down—professional enough for my meeting with Professor Wexler later, but comfortable in the unseasonable heat. My hair is pulled back in its usual ponytail, though wisps have escaped in the humidity.

The library’s study room B4 is my favorite—tucked away on the third level, away from high-traffic areas, with actual walls instead of the glass partitions that make the main floor rooms feel like fishbowls. Perfect for intense concentration. Or, apparently, other intense activities.

“Focus, Nora,” Dean says, his voice deceptively casual as he slides his chair closer to mine. “Tell me about dopamine’s role in reward pathways.”

I swallow hard, trying to remember basic neuroscience while his hand rests on my knee under the table, thumb drawing slow circles against my bare skin. This was his idea—quizzing me on neurotransmitter functions while systematically dismantling my ability to think clearly.

“Dopamine acts as a—” I pause, momentarily distracted as his hand inches higher. “As a chemical messenger that influences pleasure and motivation.”

“Good.” His hand continues its upward path. “And what happens during reward anticipation?”

My breath catches as his fingers trace the inside of my thigh. “The ventral tegmental area activates, releasing dopamine into the nucleus accumbens and—”

His hand slides higher, fingers brushing against the edge of my underwear. I lose my train of thought entirely.

“And?” Dean prompts, his voice steady despite the heat in his eyes.

“And the prefrontal cortex,” I manage, fighting to keep my voice level. “Creating a feedback loop that reinforces pleasure-seeking behaviors.”

“Very good.” The praise sends an unexpected thrill through me—or maybe it’s the way his fingers have now slipped beneath the fabric, stroking lightly. “Now explain how neurotransmitter depletion affects this process.”

---