Page 84 of The Equation of Us
“Two o’clock in my office. Oh, and Nora?” His voice drops slightly. “This is strictly confidential for now. The committee is still finalizing the selection criteria, and we have a significantadvantage being among the first to know about the change. I’d hate for other departments to get ahead of us.”
Other departments. Like Engineering.
“Complete confidentiality,” I assure him. “I understand.”
We say our goodbyes, and I lean against the wall, staring at my phone screen. Two missed texts from Dean.
Dean:Still thinking about you.
Dean:About those hockey laces.
I close my eyes, reality crashing down with merciless clarity.
The Archer Initiative. One position. Unprecedented opportunity.
I know how much this means to Dean. How personal it is. His prosthetics project isn’t just academic ambition—it’s a mission born from loss and guilt. A way to honor Jesse’s memory by creating technology that could have changed his life.
But this is my dream too. The culmination of years of sacrifice and determination. The validation that every sleepless night, every missed social event, every careful calculation of my academic path has been worth it.
And now, with the positions reduced to just one, the competition has become exponentially more intense. Every department will be pushing their top candidate, fighting for that single coveted spot.
What I don’t know—what Wexler probably doesn’t know yet either—is whether Engineering will be nominating Dean. Whether we’ll end up in direct competition for the same life-changing opportunity.
The possibility sits heavy in my stomach, a cold weight of dread. If we’re competing for the same position, there’s no clean resolution. One of us wins, one of us loses. No middle ground.
And now our professional ambitions are hopelessly entangled with… whatever this is between us.
If anyone on the Archer committee discovered the nature of our relationship—discovered that I’ve been on my knees for a potential academic competitor—my professional credibility could be questioned. My nomination potentially compromised.
Everything I’ve sacrificed and struggled for since my father left—endangered.
I slide down the wall until I’m sitting on the cold hallway floor, head in my hands, Professor Lin’s lecture continuing without me on the other side of the door.
What have we done?
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Damage Control
Nora
After my mini-breakdown in the hallway, I find myself in the campus coffee shop, hands wrapped around the largest dark roast they offer, my third of the day. The caffeine has my leg bouncing beneath the table, but at least my thoughts have stopped spiraling long enough to form a coherent plan.
Step one: Get advice from someone who won’t judge me for my spectacularly bad decisions.
I pull out my phone.
Me:SOS. Coffee shop emergency. Need you ASAP.
Sadie’s response is immediate.
Sadie:Actual emergency or hot hockey player emergency?
Me:Both. Career destruction level.
Sadie:On my way. Don’t panic until I get there.
Twenty minutes later, Sadie slides into the seat across from me, her pink hair piled in a messy bun, concern written across her features.
