He waved a hand dismissively. “I learned this stuff years ago. My intentions are benevolent.”
“Uh-huh.” I crossed my arms, fighting my gaze that kept drifting toward his mouth. “You totally ruined the Blaylocks’ dining room table. Chance is grounded for two weeks. He was almost banned from playing at the homecoming game next week.”
Holden rolled his eyes. “A tragedy, I’m sure.”
I tilted my head. “Are you always this much of an asshole to total strangers?”
“I’m neveralwaysanything,” he replied. “And don’t get your jockstrap in a twist. Mr. Blaylock phoned my uncle, and they had a delightful conversation in which it was agreed that I’d pay for a brand-new table. And not from the local Crate & Barrel either.”
“So you made a big mess and used your money to clean it up.”
He frowned, confused. “Isn’t that what it’s for?”
A laugh nearly burst out of me. “Does personal responsibility mean anything to you?”
“I’m vaguely familiar with the term,” he said, his angular expression softening. “It’s why I’m here, actually. For you.”
My pulse quickened, and I tightened my crossed arms at those words, though I couldn’t tell if I was keeping them out or holding them in. “Say again?”
“I want to talk to you about the night of the party. What I said in the closet—”
“Forget it,” I said and whipped forward, suddenly paranoid that the entire class was listening in.
“But I—”
“I said, forget it. Nothing happened. I was drunk as shit. I don’t remember anything, so just fucking drop it.”
“Mr. Whitmore,” Reynolds called from the whiteboard. “Since you’re so chatty, perhaps you can share with the class. Can you please give me all values ofxat whichfis continuous but not differentiable?”
Holden leaned back in his chair, an infuriating smile on his lips. I tore my angry glare off him and studied the small graph with its curved and V-shaped tangent lines and worked out a few factors in my notebook. Solid answers that would never change.
“Negative two and zero,” I said.
Reynolds beamed. “Excellent.”
Many students in the class beamed at me too. The girls appreciatively, the guys worshipful.
“Hail to the king,” Holden muttered. “I’m surprised the class doesn’t break out into applause.”
“They do,” I said. “When I’m on the field.”
Holden arched a brow. “Touché, Whitmore.”
“And Mr. Parish,” Reynolds said loudly. “What rule do you think helped River arrive at that answer?”
Holden didn’t reply, and I didn’t look away. We couldn’t take our eyes off each other if our lives depended on it, and for a few precious moments, I didn’t care what anyone thought. The self-consciousness fled, and we just observed each other, smiles touching our lips and something foreign unfolding in my heart.
“Mr. Parish?”
Holden’s eyes never left mine. “A continuous function fails to be differentiable at a point in its domain.”
“Very good! We’re off to a great start this year. You two are a dynamicduo.”
I glanced quickly down at my notebook, the self-consciousness swooping back in, constricting my heart and slamming doors that wanted to open.
“Hear that?” Holden mused. “We’re a duo.”
“No,” I said, low and cold. “We’re not.”
