Over the next few days, I did not check Nathan’s page again. At least, that was what I told myself.
I kept my phone face down on the desk and forced myself to do practice problems, sort through my inbox, and help Cindy read the messages she was not sure about. But some things did not disappear just because I refused to look at them. They only changed shape: the empty place at the table, the moment my phone lit up, or a problem I had already solved while I still sat there staring at the last line.
Neil caught on quickly, in the most direct way possible.
That afternoon, he stood beside my desk and looked at my workbook.
“You got this one right.”
I checked the problem.
“Did I?”
“Yes.” He took the pencil from my hand and tapped the last line. “The answer is right there. Why are you stil
