“Yeah, these types of problems are pretty tough,” he says after a moment. “Let me try—oh. Hang on.”
I watch him work through the first couple of steps, then go back and erase all four lines.
“This is wrong.” He tries again, now mumbling more to himself. “Is it like this? Wait—no. That’s not right.” He erases again. “Hey, Oliver, come here real quick. How do you solve this type of problem again?”
My eyes widen.Noooooo, my mind screams. Don’t ask him! Joe, what are youdoing? I loved that we were pretending Oliver wasn’t here. Can we go back to that?
Oliver comes and stands beside me, picking up my homework and studying the problems. I tug on the strings of my pink hoodie, not daring to look at him. Ugh, so awkward.
“Okay. You’re finding the derivatives of this function?”
“Yup,” Joe confirms cheerily.
Oliver lowers himself into a crouched position and removes a pencil from his pocket, then works out the steps. “So, first you substitute—”
I don’t hear anything else because I’m too focused on the way Oliver leans over his work, hair swooping over his forehead as he scrawls through the steps. We’ve never been this physically close. Not even in tutoring. His thick eyebrows furrow together when he’s in the middle of solving, the tension dissolving in his forehead when things click in place.
Joe cups his chin in his palm as he studies Oliver’s method. Is this really happening right now? I may as well be in tutoring with Oliver instead of Joe, seeing as he’s the one helping us.
From beside him, Joe’s phone lights up with an incoming call.
“Oh, it’s Mom. One sec.”
Then he stands, already walking toward the hall.
Nooooo! Don’t leave me here with him!
“Hey, Mom, yeah—I know! Calm down, you’re okay.” Over his shoulder, Joe says, “Oliver, could you help her out for a minute? I won’t be long.”
His voice fades as he steps into his bedroom and closes the door behind him.
Oliver stares at me. I stare back.
Suddenly, I’m very warm.
Instead of crouching, he moves into the open chair beside me, sighing. Then he rolls his hoodie sleeves up to his elbows. What, are we about to do surgery or calculus?
“You don’t have to help if you don’t want—”
“Why?” He’s already scribbling the final step in the problem. “You want to fail another test?”
I snap my eyes to his side profile. “What test? I didn’t fail any—uh—”
Oliver raises his eyebrows, whistling a sweet, innocent tune as he casually spins his pencil toward me. As I take a closer look, I spot a familiar piggie sticker curved around the top.
A gasp lodges in my throat. Eyes widening, I jump to my feet, reaching out to snatch the pencil. “Hey! Where did you get that?”
Oliver raises his arm above his head before I have the chance to strike. “Found it on public property. Plus, it’s stuck to my pencil. That means it’s mine now.”
I fall back in my chair, folding my arms across my chest. “Fine,whatever.You keep that. And, yes, I suck at calculus, but you already know that.”
He points the eraser at me. “Okay, let’s study, then.”
Warily, I meet his eyes. “Really?”
“Yes, come on.”
He sounds sincere. He’s not even scowling or giving me a look like I chucked his backpack in the lake. Instead, he positions himself so he’s a tad closer to me, so I unfold my arms and lean in.
