Sumner closes the distance between us. His glasses slip down his nose as his chin dips down toward me.
“Did you—?”
“Yeah,” he says, scrubbing a hand along his jaw. He suddenly looks ten times more tired than he did five minutes ago. “But we’re not going to think about that now.”
A lump of panic rises in my throat. “But what if—?”
“Carmichael.” His slate eyes find mine. “Later, okay?”
I nod, but my nonverbal confirmation doesn’t stop my breathing from quickening. It also doesn’t halt my racing thoughts. The ones that pierce the shrapnel of reality directly into my heart:Ivernia won’t belong to you anymore. It won’t belong to him. It’ll cease to exist, just like he did. In another hundred years, it won’t matter to anyone, because no one will remember it. Or him. In the grand sense of our reality, nothing matters.
Nothing matters.
The rapid pattering in my chest accelerates. I blink, trying not to cry. The last thing I want to do is break down. Not just in front of Sumner, but in front of the entire school. But those thoughts claw through. They spill over the edge of my composure and straight into the dark expanse of my internal fears.
“Hey, take a breath.” Sumner lays a hand across his chest and takes a slow inhale.
I copy him. Release the built-up pressure behind my rib cage.
He leads me through another silent breath. I latch on to the way his long fingers linger on the threads of his maroon sweater peeking out from under his jacket. There’s a dark ink stain down his wrist, and incoherent scribbles curve along the length of his forearm and trail down his sleeve. For some reason,thisis the thing that grounds me. The crushing despair begins to shrink.
When I lift my gaze toward Sumner, he’s worrying his lip.
“What’s on your arm?”
He tugs on his sleeve as if revealing a tattoo. “Green’s theorem,” he says. “If aCcurve is closed and oriented clockwise—”
“Better question,” I add, “whyis it on your arm?”
“Because I want to understand it and I don’t just yet.” He holds my gaze a beat before shifting it toward the fountain. “Got your penny?”
My hands slip inside my pockets. That’s when I realize I’ve forgotten to grab the most important part of this evening. How could I leave so unprepared? It’s unlike me. I should have double-checked—
“Here.”
Sumner places a coin in my palm, both of us jerking away from his sudden contact. I pretend not to notice. He does the same.
“You can tell me to fuck off if you want,” Sumner says, so casually it almost makes me laugh. “Or were you saving that as your wish?”
I press back a smile. “Youwouldassume I’d save my wish for you.”
There’s a mischievous glint in his eye. “One can hope.”
The dense congregation parts wide enough for us to slip toward an open space near the fountain. Sumner checks the time on his phone, then flashes it my way. 11:58.
“To be clear,” he says. “You don’t have to wish for me to get any more attractive. The genetic gods have already bestowed a timeless treasure upon mankind. A rival to Adonis, some might say.”
“Who issome?”
“My adoring fans, Carmichael, keep up.”
“You,” I emphasize, “are a walking lesson in humility.”
“Finally, she admits my greatest strength.”
“Second greatest. First is your inability to shut up about trigonometric functions.”
“And when you’re done denying yourself life’s simple pleasures, you know where to find me.”
