Page 64 of The Equation of Us
“Liked?” Logan snorts. “You used to sleep with a calculator under your pillow.”
I laugh, delighted by this glimpse into Dean’s childhood. “That explains a lot, actually.”
Dean shoots me a look that’s half warning, half amusement. “Don’t encourage him.”
The conversation flows more easily than I would have expected, Logan gradually relaxing as the focus shifts from their father to safer topics—childhood stories, hockey memories, campus gossip. I find myself genuinely enjoying his company, appreciating the way his presence brings out a different side of Dean.
When Logan excuses himself to use the bathroom, Dean turns to me with an apologetic expression. “I’m sorry about this.”
“Don’t be,” I say honestly. “He clearly needed you tonight.”
Dean’s expression softens slightly. “He’ll be okay. He just—” He pauses, searching for words. “Dad’s remarrying hits him harder. He was younger when Dad left.”
“And you’ve been picking up the pieces ever since,” I observe.
His eyes meet mine, something like surprise flickering across his face. “Something like that.”
I hesitate, then unsure if I should ask the question that’s been nagging at me all evening.
Of course, Dean notices.
And calls me on it.
“Say what’s on your mind, Nora.”
I swallow. “Do you… still talk to her? Daphne, I mean?”
His eyebrows lift slightly, clearly not expecting this turn in the conversation. “Sometimes. When she needs something, like the other night.” He studies my face. “Why?”
“Just wondering,” I say, aiming for casual and missing by a mile. “After helping her the other night, I thought maybe…”
“Maybe what?” he prompts when I trail off.
“Maybe you were reconsidering this. Us.” The words come out more vulnerable than I intended.
I feel stupid.
There’s not anus.
There’s just two people who decided to hook up.
Dean moves closer, the heat of his body immediately tangible. “Are you wondering if I’m going to go back to Daphne?”
I shrug, embarrassed by my insecurity. “It would make more sense. Less complicated.”
“Do you want to stop this?” he asks directly, his eyes never leaving mine.
“No,” I admit without hesitation. “Do you?”
Something shifts in his expression—the carefully controlled facade giving way to raw intensity.
“No.”
Before he can say more, Logan returns, his phone in hand. “Mom’s calling. Sorry, I should take this.”
Dean nods, moving back to a respectable distance from me. “Take it in my room if you want privacy.”
Logan disappears down the hallway, the door closing behind him. Dean turns back to me, something like regret in his eyes.
