“Numbers still obey rules.”He opened a desk drawer, producing a yellow legal pad.“Show me the chapter.”
“I—” My throat closed.No backup plan existed beyond white-knuckling the curve.“I don’t want to drag you into—”
“Assist.”He uncapped a pen.“I needed an assist, and you were there for me.You need an assist now; I am here for you.”
The radiator clanged—two sharp beats, then a settling hush.Like punctuation.
I set the phone beside the puck on my nightstand, the alert still glowing.Couldn’t change the score.Could change the variables.
“Okay,” I said.“After dinner.”
“Bring the syllabus,” he replied, turning back to the screen.“And your patience.I’m available after nine.”
Patience.Not my A-skill, but I nodded anyway.
I lay back, peas cold through the sleeve, eyes on the ceiling crack.The room didn’t feel rearranged anymore.The math had changed, but so had the constants.
The radiator ticked, metronome steady, while Austen’s keyboard resumed its measured cadence.
Chapter 10
Variable Shift
Austen
Luke’s phone chimed again—third time in ten minutes—and his jaw twitched like the muscle didn’t know whether to lock or sprint.We sat at opposite ends of the dorm, him on his bed lacing up running shoes for weights, me at the desk debugging a freshman’s horrendous MATLAB loop.From the angle of the screen, I couldn’t read the alert, but whatever it said chased the color from his face.
He shoved the phone under his thigh, yanked the knot tight, and tried for casual.“Back by eight,” he said.
“Mm-hmm.”I kept eyes on my monitor, fingers still on the trackpad.The cursor blinked inside an if-statement I’d already fixed.“Have fun pushing iron.”
He grunted acknowledgment, grabbed his backpack, then paused.“Need anything from North Point?”
“Blueberry oat bar.If civilization collapses, I’m building a fort out of them.”
The smile he gave was automatic, not lived in.“One fort, coming up.”
Door shut.Hallway swallowed his footsteps.The radiator hissed an exhale that sounded like “don’t buy it.”
I minimized the code window and opened a blank note.
VARIABLE: Luke OBSERVED DATA – Phone buzz x3 in 10 min – Pulse spike visible at temple – Left shoe double-knotted (stress habit) – Smile latency 0.5 s (not baseline)
Hypothesis wrote itself: something academic, probably ugly.Athletes didn’t bother double-knotting for girlfriend drama.
Problem: No proof.Also, none of my business.
I closed the laptop before the note turned into a rescue plan, shoved it in my bag, and headed to Ridgeway.Numbers were safer when they belonged to other people.
The math lounge smelled like old carpet and burned Keurig pods.A cluster of sophomores argued over divergent series at the whiteboard.I claimed the far table, noise-canceling earbuds in, and attacked stack two of tomorrow’s quizzes.Twenty minutes and a dozen chain-rule misfires later, the door cracked.
“Austen,” Maya sing-songed, sliding into the chair opposite me.Red beanie, fingerless gloves, eyes that missed nothing.“I have not seen you in the cafeteria in days, so I’m conducting a wellness check.”
“Luke keeps bringing me nutrition bars, so I’m good.”
Maya rolled her eyes.“You realize those are snacks and not meals?They’re to tide you over until you eat actual food?”
“I know,” I snapped.
