I’m stuck here in the library, locked in an epic battle with my arch-nemesis: Advanced Calculus.
At least I’ve got a date lined up this weekend. I know, me, Alexandria Ford, going on a date. I was so excited when Eric asked me out, but to be honest, the closer the date gets, the less excited I feel.
It’s also not normal to wait nearly three weeks for a date, right?
I’m telling myself it’s just nerves. Tara says that everyone feels weird before a first date, but I can’t tell if that’s true or if she’s just trying to reassure me.
I bury my nose in my textbook, trying to ignore how close Freddie is sitting. The UMS library hums around us, a weird mix of stressed-out whispers and the click-clack of laptops. Outside the massive windows, the sun is setting behind the mountains, painting everything in gold.
It’s annoyingly beautiful, mocking me.
I stifle another groan as I glare down at my textbook, feeling utterly defeated. These equations have to be messing with me. I’m half-convinced they’re rearranging themselves every time I blink, like some kind of numerical Weeping Angels taunting me from the page.
“These numbers are conspiring against me,” I mutter, erasing what must be my millionth attempt. My poor eraser’s thinning, probably plotting its escape from my relentless grip.
A presence looms over my shoulder, and I glance up to see Freddie peering down at my scribbles. His wince is less than reassuring.
“Here, let me,” he offers, sliding the book toward him. “You just need to…”
As Freddie talks me through it, his explanation flows in this calm, steady rhythm, like he’s casting a spell of clarity over the jumbled mess of numbers and symbols. Slowly, they start to make sense, each one clicking into place like gears in a machine. A smile spreads across my face despite myself. It’s almost infuriating, how easily he makes sense of it all. If he weren’t so genuinely kind about it, I’d probably hate him just a little.
“Thanks,” I say, hoping my smile doesn’t betray the swarm of butterflies in my stomach.
“Don’t mention it,” he shrugs, turning back to his own work. I peer over, curious. Oh boy. His dinosaur sketch looks less Jurassic Park and more “chicken having an existential crisis.” It’s hilariously awful and somehow endearing at the same time.
“Wanna trade?” he says, his grin as self-deprecating as ever. “I’ll solve your math if you make this look less like existential poultry.”
I laugh, leaning in to get a closer look at his drawing. Big mistake. The moment I’m close enough, his cologne hits me—a warm, woodsy scent, like a forest after rain. It’s grounding, and entirely too appealing. I clear my throat, leaning back quickly,mentally reciting the periodic table to rein in my wandering thoughts.We’re just friends, Alex. Friends. F-R-I-E-N-D-S.
“So,” Freddie’s voice breaks through my internal lecture, pulling me back to the present. “One term in—still loving Environmental Science? Even with all the math?”
“Are you kidding? It’s amazing!” I gush, then immediately wish I could dial it back.Play it cool, Alex. But Freddie’s actually listening, his head tilted in that way that makes me forget how to be cool. “I mean, it’s not just the stuff people think—it’s not all trees and rocks and whatever. It’s about actually doing something, you know?”
The words tumble out before I can stop them. “We’re literally watching the world burn, Freddie. Climate change, pollution, deforestation—somebody has to step up. And okay, yes, the calculus part is kind of killing me, but?—”
“But you color-code your notes and ace it anyway,” he teases, and my stomach definitely doesn’t flip at the fact that he’s noticed my study habits.
Stop that,I tell it sternly.
“I just…” I take a breath, suddenly needing him to understand. “Everyone thinks I’m naive, but the GSRI is doing real work, you know? Renewable energy, sustainable cities—actual solutions. Not just talking about change, but making it happen.”
The words pour out faster now, like they always do when I talk about this. But Freddie doesn’t look bored or patronizing. He’s watching me with something that looks almost like... admiration?
“The GSRI summer internship isn’t just any program,” I explain, pulling up their website on my laptop. “They only take twelve students nationwide. Last year, they developed a new method for phytoremediation that’s being implemented at three major mining sites.” I scroll through the pictures ofprevious interns, all looking impossibly professional in their GSRI lab coats. “Plus, their grad program is basically a fast track to actually making change happen. Their alumni are working for the EPA, running environmental consulting firms, advising Congress on climate policy. I mean, the GSRI’s research has led to three major environmental protection bills in the last decade alone.”
“You’d look good in one of their lab coats,” Freddie teases, but he’s looking at the screen with interest.
I scowl at him, ignoring the pace my heart has picked up.
“That’s actually really cool, Alex,” he says softly, and I have to look down because the genuine warmth in his voice makes my chest tight. “You really believe you can change things.”
“I have to.” My voice comes out smaller than I meant it to. “If we all just sit around doing nothing…” I trail off and finger the small leaf pendant at my neck, Emma’s face flashing through my mind.
Emma, who might still be here if more people cared about our planet. Emma, who dreamed of living sustainably, who was so excited about her off-grid cabin and well water. Emma, who trusted that the water was safe because no one warned her otherwise. Emma, who died because some huge company decided profit margins were more important than proper safety protocols.
I push those thoughts aside. This isn’t the time or place for that conversation.
Instead, I force a smile at Freddie. “Anyway, enough about my save-the-world complex. How about I help you make that T-Rex look less like a confused chicken?”
