Page 17 of The Equation of Us
The night we hooked up, I tried something I’d never done before. Nothing big. Just… intentional. Present. I wanted to feel something.
The next week, I heard from someone in his dorm that I was “surprisingly wild for a nerd.”
He never spoke to me again.
But everyone else did.
Desire gets you humiliated.
Desire makes you weak.
Desire is what gets you turned into a story someone else tells at a party.
But now I think about the way Dean watches people without performing for them. The way he speaks like he already knows the end of your sentence. The way he sat across from me and said,Whatever you want, Nora.
And I think maybe I don’t want polite.
Maybe I don’t want soft, safe, and easily forgettable.
Maybe I want the fire.
What I don’t want is to be burned again.
Chapter Seven
Ice and Gravity
Dean
The first thing I notice when I hit the ice is that everything else gets quiet.
Not literally—there’s the usual sound of blades slicing, sticks tapping, someone yelling“Heads up!”from the far end. But the noise inside me? That goes still.
Skating does that. Always has.
I dig into the turn at the edge of the rink, knees tight, core locked, the movement so familiar I barely have to think. My body knows what to do before I tell it. It’s the only place where control doesn’t feel like work.
“Carter!” Coach yells from the bench. “Let’s move the breakout faster. Tell your line.”
I nod and signal the guys, circling back. My gloves are stiff from the cold, the air sharp in my lungs. Feels good. Clean.
On the next pass, Gavin glides up next to me, easy as anything, and bumps my shoulder with his.
“Puck’s not gonna flirt with you back, you know.”
I glance over. “Funny.”
He grins. “I try.”
Gavin’s got that whole golden retriever energy—messy blond hair, permanent smile, looks like he wandered in from asurfboard ad. But there’s weight behind it, if you know what to look for. And I do.
We’ve been tight since freshman year. He’s the only one I’ve ever told about Jesse. About why I changed majors. Why I train like I’m behind even when I’m not.
“You good?” he asks as we skate slow laps between drills.
“Fine.”
“Uh-huh.”
