“Got it?” she asks.
I nod and work on the problem. When I’m done, she scans it and nods in approval.
The next problem is conditional probability with a Bayes flip in it, which I would have taken twenty-two minutes to recognizethree weeks ago and now I see in eight seconds. I write the setup. I do the math. I get the answer in the right format because she has trained me to circle the format on the first read and I now circle the format on the first read.
I slide it across.
She reads it, makes one small mark, and slides it back. “Good.”
“Thanks.”
This continues for the next twenty minutes. With her help, I’m able to get all the answers right. I’m on a roll, but I need to Camdenk this tension. It’s suffocating. She’s purposely not looking at me, and like any egotistic meathead, I need her attention, or I’m going to die. I swear I’m not this thirsty for attention from girls ever. I put the pencil down.
“Lucy.”
She looks at me, finally. I search her eyes, and she knows what’s coming. I watch her retreat into her shell, putting on a mask to hide what she’s really feeling.
I had three opening lines for this moment. I drove home Friday night with one of them and woke up Saturday with the second and have been chewing on the third since Tuesday. None of them are the one I use.
“I’m sorry I didn’t text you this week.”
“It’s okay. You don’t have my number.”
That’s a fact, but it’s also a fact that I could have asked Gianna for it. Sure, it would make it obvious, but I had the opportunity to ask and didn’t. I didn’t want to risk hearing it from my sister. I also could have found her on social media. I didn’t do that either.
“G wouldn’t tell me what happened Saturday morning.” I play with the pencil. “Are you okay?”
She nods. “Yeah, I’m okay. I’m sorry I had to cancel Tuesday’s session.”
I offer a small smile. “It’s okay. I know you weren’t feeling good.”
“I’m still kind of not,” she admits.
“Oh,” I say, feeling guilty. “You could’ve rescheduled today.”
She shakes her head. “I’m powering through.”
I lean forward. “Is everything okay?”
Her shoulders come down half an inch. She takes her thumbs off the pencil. “It was bad.” She nods. “I had an allergic reaction. My face was, uh, not my face for a few days.”
I look at her face, noting the red mark is actually rash-like. “Allergic reaction to what?”
She deadpans, “To kissing you.”
I lean forward, her words cutting off my air supply. I fucking cough. My heart skips a beat, dread filling my veins. “What?”
She turns bright red, hiding her smile as she stares down at the papers sprawled between us. “Sorry,” she starts to laugh. “I had to.” She shrugs. “You set it up so well.”
I feel my face. It’s burning hot like I just stepped into the sun. She just scorched me. I cover my face, trying to calm my racing heart. I clear my throat, taking a deep Camdenth.
She says, “It was a mango allergy.”
I look up at her. That confession causes me to double-take. “Are you being serious now?”
She nods. “Dead serious.”
I lean back and think.Shit.“Percy puts mango chunks in his punch.”
