“Ryan says the team’s got my back,” he said quietly, not looking up.“But I didn’t expect this.Not from the guy who got stuck with the overflow.”
Stuck with.
The words hit a bruised spot I usually kept covered.Luke thought he was the burden?That was a miscalculation.Iwas the one who required noise-canceling headphones to survive a Tuesday.Iwas the one who alphabetized the pantry.People didn’t get stuck with Luke Carter; they got stuck with me.
I recapped the pencil, the plastic click loud in the silence.
“You have your variables reversed,” I said.“The Housing Office didn’t stick you with me, Luke.They dumped you in the only room with a vacancy because nobody else wanted the guy who solves math problems for fun.”
Luke looked up.The self-deprecation in his eyes vanished, replaced by genuine confusion.“You think I mind?”
“Most people do.”
“I don’t,” he said.He leaned back, spinning the pencil I’d given him.“You’re the only thing making sense in my life right now, Austen.I’m glad I’m here.Friends help friends, right?”
Friends.
He said it casually, like it was a given constant, not a variable he’d just introduced to the system.The word sat in the air between us, heavier than the textbook, but warmer.
“Right,” I managed.My voice felt tight.“Friends help friends.”
I cleared my throat, needing to shift the focus before the data overwhelmed me.“In that spirit… regarding your earlier inquiry about trivia night.”
Luke’s eyebrows shot up.“Yeah?”
“Ryan’s harassment is becoming a disruption.I am willing to attend.As a counter-measure.”
“A counter-measure,” Luke repeated, a grin spreading slow and wide.“Thursday?Eight o’clock?”
“Conditional on this ledger balancing.”
“It balances,” he said, tapping the pad.“I checked it twice.”
“Then the schedule is locked.”
I checked my watch.“10:47.Quiet hours imminent.”
Luke finished the last problem, tapped the eraser twice like sealing a deal.He offered the pencil back.
“Keep it,” I said, opening my bottom drawer to reveal a pristine box of Ticonderogas.“Inventory redundancy.”
He twirled it once, pocketed it.“Noted.”
He stood to stretch, vertebrae popping, and paused, looking at the code scrolling on my open laptop screen—a mess of flocking simulations I’d been fighting with all week.
“What’s that?”he asked.“Matrix code?”
“Thesis,” I sighed, rubbing my temples.“Bird flocking behaviors.My advisor, Dr.Thorne, thinks the current model is too predictable.I need a new subject.Something with more chaotic variables.”
Luke grinned.“You could study how fast I fall asleep reading this accounting textbook.”
“Insufficient velocity,” I said.But as I looked at him—sweatshirt rumpled, hair messy, vibrating with that restless athletic energy—the gears turned.Chaotic variables.High speed.Unpredictable collisions.
“Same time tomorrow?”he asked.
“If you’re willing.”
“Always.”
