“That’s the one,” she said, snapping her fingers. “I think we used to do that one with protractors when I was in school. I’d be happy to take a look tomorrow, but I can’t promise anything.”
As though he were an actor in a script, Luke set down his glass and looked at us, playing right into Mel’s hands.
“Oh, um, thanks, Mel,” I said. I couldn’t tell if this was going well or not.
“Of course, Jessi-girl,” she said.
“Luke, do you have one of those math sets Jessi and I can borrow for tomorrow?”
Now Luke was frowning. “A math set?”
“Yeah, you know those small silver cases?”
He was looking at me now. “You need help with derivatives?”
Despite all the buildup, my face still warmed. “Yeah, kind of.”
“I’m a little rusty,” Mel said. “But I was great at geometry. I should actually go and see if I can find that old calculator of mine.” She took off for the stairs. I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing. Her rickety old woman spiel had officially entered the vicinity of the ridiculous.
Luke had turned his back to fill another glass of water, but he spoke now.
“I’ll tutor you.”
I couldn’t believe Mel had been right. He was actually offering.
“If you want,” he added, turning around to face me.
“That would be amazing,” I said quickly. “Are you sure?”
He shrugged. “Why not?”
He gulped down the rest of his water, crossed the kitchen, and stopped at the counter, inches from me. I was eyeing him as he reached for an apple in the fruit bowl behind me, so I barely had time to notice when his other hand touched my chin.
“Tomorrow?” he asked.
Both our eyes followed his index finger as the flour he’d brushed off my face left a white smudge on his black shorts.
“Tomorrow,” I whispered.
THEN
Derivatives.
Given how distracted I was, I’d managed to learn a lot more about them than I expected. Luke and I were sitting next to each other at the dining table, where we always sat during dinner at the Cohen house. Except this time it was just the two of us.
Our bodies were angled toward each other, our heads had almost touched twice, and I realized that the whisper of mint I’d smelled in his car the night we picked Rowan up from Celia’s party was from Luke. When I leaned in even closer, a clean, soapy scent emanated from his skin. I stumbled through all sorts of olfactory equations in my mind. Mint gum + the ocean breeze detergent Mel used = Luke’s indelible scent? Or was it breath mints + some as-yet undiscovered shower gel that was making me want to bury my head in his chest?
Rowan didn’t smell like this. He smelled like Old Spice and sweat, which, to be fair, usually lacked that offensive sting that BO had, unless he’d just come from the court. Did they have their separate soaps even though they shared the same shower?
I felt I should know them well enough to answer this question, but it was also creepy as hell—grounds for Mel to throw me out of her house for good if she ever found out how badly I wanted to know.
“You know what you’re doing,” Luke said suddenly, and I knew it was all over. I was caught. He’d read my mind.
“What?” I said, tucking my hair behind my ear and retreating into my chair, as my attempts at sniffing him had sent me almost into his lap. I didn’t know what was wrong with me. Mel was in the next room, for God’s sake.
“You know what you’re doing,” he said. “Don’t overthink it.”
“Oh, thanks,” I said, my face warming. Whether it was from the encouragement or the crazy thoughts I’d been having, I couldn’t tell. “You’re too nice.”
