Five
River
“I’m going to start by giving your summer-addled minds a wake-up call,” Mr. Reynolds said. The congenial math teacher with a bristly mustache and thick glasses drewxandyaxes on the whiteboard in blue marker. “We’ll start with a refresher on the connection between differentiability and continuity.”
I sighed with relief. After all the crazy shit that went down at Chance’s party on Saturday, I’d spent the entire weekend trying not to think about my two minutes in the closet with Holden Parish. I already had too many mixed emotions and confusion in my life; I didn’t need more. Math was solid. Exact. It had unbreakable rules.
Until that night, I thought my life did too.
Morning light spilled in through the window as the entire AP Calculus class—only about twelve of us, since it was optional—pulled out their pencils and opened notebooks. As I shook out of my letterman jacket, my pencil rolled off my desk and went behind me. Harris Reed, a thin, wiry guy I knew from last year’s Algebra II, snatched it up and handed it back with a nervous smile.
“Here you go.”
I gave him my friendliest smile in return. “Thanks, man.”
The guys in my group would label Harris a geek or nerd, if they thought about him at all. But I’d vowed never to make anyone feel like shit for no reason. Besides, I probably had more to talk about with Harris than any guy on the football team.
“Oh, and congrats,” Harris added.
“For what?”
He gave a confused smile. “For being made homecoming king. This morning?”
“Oh right,” I said with a laugh. “Thanks.”
Earlier at a pep rally in the gym, Violet McNamara and I had been named homecoming queen and king. It was out of my mind ten minutes after the rally ended.
Pencil retrieved, I turned back around and nearly dropped it again. Holden Parish lounged in the doorway.
Goddamn…
He leaned his tall frame against the entry languidly, like he owned the damn place. Despite the warm day, he wore a gray wool coat over a green shirt that was the same color as his eyes. His silvery hair was swept off his face in thick waves.
He was fucking beautiful. Heart-stoppingly, jaw-droppinglyhot. There was no way around it. My eyes, mind, and body all came to the same conclusion, and I was helpless to deny it.
Holden scanned the classroom intently until his gaze landed on me. As if a current ran from me to him, the connection instantly zipped down my spine to my groin.
“Can I help you?” Mr. Reynolds asked, smiling warmly. “The class has already begun.”
“Every hallway on this godforsaken campus looks the same,” Holden griped and slipped Reynolds a piece of paper. “I’m transferring.”
Reynolds scanned the paper and frowned. “You’re dropping French to be here? Any particular reason?”
“Ça ne m’apporte plus rien,” he said in a flawless accent. “I doubtthisclass has anything to teach me either, frankly, but…” His gaze on me softened slightly. “It’s possible I have a few things left to learn.”
“We’re happy to have you.” Reynolds glanced at Holden’s outfit with a perplexed smile. “Take off your coat and stay a while,” he teased.
“No, thanks.” Holden strode through the class, ignoring the curious stares that followed. Half the desks were empty, so naturally, he sat beside me.
Shit.
I faced forward, intent on the lesson, but my heart was beating too fast. Holden lounged sideways in his seat, making no pretense about staring me down; I could feel his gaze move over my skin, sending icy-hot shivers over my arm and neck.
Finally, I turned to face him. “Can I help you?” I whispered.
“I need to talk to you,” he whispered back.
“You transferred into an advanced calculus class just to talk to me?”
