9. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

I sprint down the sidewalk, tug open the door of the Coffee Loft, and bound inside. Instantly, I'm submerged in the shop's delightful aromas and cozy ambience. However, coziness isn't what I'm focused on right now. Instead, while ignoring the customers' curious stares, I scamper to the back of the shop. Joel, who's seated at our usual table, does a double take when he sees me rushing his way.

"Is everything all right?" He gets to his feet.

I halt in front of him. I suppose it's a good thing that I'm winded from my impromptu outdoor run, because it conceals the fact that the sight of Joel is taking my breath away. While I look like a hot mess in my old athletic wear, Joel looks more alluring than ever. His hair is tousled, his glasses are giving him that sexy-nerd vibe, the way his sweater is sitting upon his frame is a blazing reminder of all his muscles, and he's radiating that calmly commanding presence that always threatens to make my world stop rotating on its axis.

"Everything is all right. I'm sorry for being late." I take the chair that's across the table from where Joel was sitting, and I drop my gym bag at my feet. "The bus was running behind."

A basketball rolls out of my bag.

Joel uses his foot to stop the ball. "Were you doing some shooting practice?"

"Yes, but only for a couple of hours." I bend down, retrieve the ball out from under his foot, and stuff it back into my bag.

"A couple of hours?" Joel echoes as he sits down.

"Yes. I told you that my goal is to shoot every day, even on the days when you and I also have our scheduled practices." I pause, my brow furrowing. "Do you think it'll be enough?"

"Danielle." Joel adjusts his glasses, and something about the gesture combined with the way he has lowered his voice sends lightning zipping along my spine. "What you've done is already enough. It's more than enough. I―"

"Here are your lofty-sized drinks!" a man declares.

I turn and see the barista, Nathaniel, scuttling toward our table with two enormous cups in his hands. Nathaniel has been working here for years. He's in his forties, he knows everything about board games, and he has a penchant for bow ties. With a huge smile, he sets the drinks in front of Joel and me.

Joel gives him a friendly tip of his head. "Thank you."

"Yes, thanks, Nat." I beam at him.

"You're welcome." Nathaniel salutes playfully. "By the way, I've been seeing you guys all over the news. You're doing that fundraiser for University Hospital, right?"

My heart lurches. The news . Joel and I have been in the news . I've heard from friends and family about news stories covering the fundraiser, but up until this moment, the publicity hasn't seemed real. Suddenly, though, it all seems very, very real . . . terrifyingly real.

"That's right." Joel's affect remains unfazed as he answers Nathaniel. "The fundraiser was Danielle's idea, and it's happening at the end of the month."

"Well, I wish you the best of luck." Nathaniel shows us a thumbs-up. "My niece was hospitalized at that facility a few years ago, and she adored the play area, so I'm personally thankful for what you're doing. I'll definitely be at the fundraiser to cheer you on." He motions to our cups. "By the way, your drinks are on me, my friends."

Nathaniel salutes again and heads back to the counter. I watch him go, and then I put my eyes back on Joel and apprehensively inquire:

"So we're really being talked about in the news a little bit?"

Joel sighs. "We're being talked about in the news a lot."

I freeze. "Like, a lot a lot?"

Joel turns his laptop so I can see what he has up on his monitor. "More than a lot a lot."

Joel has an internet browser open to a social media page for the most prominent news outlet in the region. My eyes get wide when I see that the featured news story is about Joel and me. Not about the fundraiser. About Joel and me . Plastered right at the top of the story is Joel's suave, macho basketball headshot . . . and below it is a profoundly awkward photo of me that was hurriedly taken in the Student Activities Building at the start of my freshman year when I got my ID card. In the picture, my eyes are slightly closed, my hair is puffy, and my clothes are anything but stylish. Yet my smile is excited and eager. How is it possible that over three years have passed since that photo was taken? It's like I've had my nose in the books so much that I hardly noticed life going by.

"I can't apologize enough about all this attention that's getting dumped on you," I hear Joel growl.

I look at him. His brows are low. His jaw is clenched.

"It's all right. Though I'm not used to being watched by the media, I'm glad it's getting the cause in the news. However . . ." I motion to the laptop with a groan. "I wish they hadn't posted my terrible freshman photo for the world to see."

Joel's expression evolves to one of genuine confusion. "Is something wrong with that picture?"

"Pretty much everything is wrong with that picture." I actually laugh. "I look like late-puberty personified while you look all hot and athletic and muscular and . . ." I stop talking and take a fast sip of my drink, wincing as it scorches my tongue.

Joel studies my photo. "I'm not sure what you're talking about. You were pretty back then, and you've simply become even more gorgeous now."

I nearly drop my drink in my lap. Joel thinks I'm gorgeous? No, there's no way he really thinks that. He's merely being kind because a terrible picture of me has been posted all over the internet.

"That's nice of you to say." I glance again at my photo and cringe. "Nonetheless, I'll be glad when that particular news story is taken down."

"I'll be glad when the media stops hounding you all together." Joel shuts his laptop as if he's sick of looking at the monitor.

"I promise it's not a big deal. It's not like there's anything interesting for the media to dig up on me, anyway. My whole life has consisted of studying and . . . studying." A lump forms in my throat as a heavy dose of regret squeezes my heart.

Joel's eyes meet mine across the table. His brow furrows once more as he observes me with his searching gaze.

I think it's time to change the subject.

I lighten my tone. "Thanks for the drink, by the way. It's always the perfect studying fuel."

Joel's tense expression relaxes. "You're welcome. I figured it wouldn't be a tutoring session without our regular drinks, right?"

Our regular drinks . The words make me feel happy and airy. Our drinks . Something special between us. Something that . . .

Something that will be only another memory after this month is over.

Joel reopens his laptop and pulls up some notes that he took in class. "Here are my notes from lecture today." He tugs his textbook from his bag, puts it on the table, and opens it to a chapter. "And these are the homework questions."

"Great. Let's see what we have." I read the first question aloud. " Acetone can be converted to isopropanol by hydrogenation. Calculate the enthalpy change for the reaction using bond energies."

"I tried crunching the numbers, but I'm not getting them to work out." Joel retrieves a spiral-bound notebook from his bag and shows me the calculations that he jotted down. "I'm not sure why."

I survey his work. "I recommend first examining the reactants and product to determine what bonds are broken and what bonds are formed in the reaction. I think the best way to do that is by sketching out the Lewis structures."

"That makes sense." Joel begins writing on his notepad, his forehead creasing with a look of concentration that's a little bit attractive.

Actually, it's immensely attractive.

"What do you think?" Joel turns his notebook so I can see what he wrote.

I glance over his results. "Double check to ensure all the hydrogen atoms are accounted for."

Joel slides the notebook toward him again. "Ah. I left off a hydrogen." He resumes writing.

"Perfect," I tell him. "Now that you have the Lewis structures drawn out, use them to figure out what bonds aren't changed in the reaction."

Joel's eyes dart across his notes. "There are two carbon-carbon bonds that haven't changed, and five . . . no, six carbon-hydrogen bonds that haven't changed."

"Exactly." I grab a pen from my bag and a few napkins from the dispenser on the table. "That tells you what you don't need to worry about, so you can focus on the bonds in the reactants that are broken and the bonds that are formed in the product."

Joel goes back to making notes and using the calculator on his phone. "There's one mole of carbon-oxygen double bonds and one mole of hydrogen-hydrogen single bonds that are broken in the reaction. So that would be . . . a total of one thousand one hundred sixty-eight kilojoules of energy required."

I peek at my own notes, which I sketched on the napkin. "That's what I got, too."

Joel looks up and grins when he sees my scribble-covered napkin. "This is like second nature to you, isn't it? That's impressive."

I grin back at him. "I do like chemistry a lot."

Joel smiles a second longer, and then he clears his throat and lowers his attention back to his work. "As for the energy evolved from the bonds that formed during the reaction, I have one mole of carbon-hydrogen single bonds and one mole of carbon-oxygen single bonds."

"And . . . ?" I prompt.

"One mole of oxygen-hydrogen single bonds." Joel resumes using his phone to crunch the numbers. "So that's four hundred thirteen kilojoules for carbon-hydrogen, three hundred fifty-eight for carbon-oxygen, and four hundred sixty-three for the oxygen-hydrogen bonds." He raises his eyes to mine. "Or am I way off here?"

"You're exactly right. So the final step is calculating the enthalpy change."

Joel goes back to the calculator. "The change in enthalpy will be negative sixty-six kilojoules."

"Bingo. And so that means this particular reaction is . . . ?"

"Exothermic."

"Nicely done," I tell him. "That homework problem is a good example of how methodically going through the steps makes solving such an equation manageable."

Joel breaks into another swoony smile. "This is extremely helpful. Thank you."

"It's what I'm here for. Besides, I―"

"Ah, if it isn't the media's favorite duo," someone interjects.

I barely manage not to roll my eyes when I notice Kaden sauntering toward us with his trademark smug grin on his face.

Joel's expression empties. "Hey, Kaden. I didn't expect to see you out in this neck of the woods again."

Kaden grabs a chair from a nearby table, flips it around backward, places it next to me, and takes a seat. "Normally, you wouldn't see me out here, but I came on purpose. Not for you, though, Lambert." He winks at me. "I came hoping to find you, Danielle."

I don't hide my surprise. "Are you . . . looking to sign up for tutoring?"

Kaden tips back his head and laughs. "No. I'm here to insist that you go out with me."

In the corner of my eye, I see Joel sit up sharply.

I motion to the laptop and reply to Kaden with, "Well, as you can see, I'm right in the middle of a tutoring session and―"

"I didn't mean right now." Kaden is still chuckling. "I was thinking we could go out after the team's first official scrimmage this Thursday. What do you think?"

I stare at Kaden like he just informed me the standard atomic weight of carbon-twelve was changed. As crazy as it seems, Kaden is serious. He's serious about going out. At least, I think he is, but I'm so clueless about this kind of thing that I could be misreading the entire situation.

"Kaden, I do appreciate you asking." I shift in my chair. "However, I'm going to decline."

Kaden's brows snap together before he puts back on a smile. "Oh, I get it: you don't want to be fraternizing with the enemy before the fundraiser, is that right?"

I sigh to myself. Has Kaden ever been told "no" in his life? He seems to have serious difficulty comprehending the word.

"Kaden." Joel reveals no emotion as he interjects into the conversation. "Like Danielle mentioned, we're studying. How about you allow us to finish without interruption?"

Kaden snaps his head in Joel's direction. "Relax, Lambert. Just because Danielle isn't falling into your arms doesn't mean she's not interested in someone else."

Joel's face remains a blank slate, but the muscles of his jaw begin to work.

Kaden returns his attention to me. "How about this: after Thursday's scrimmage, we'll go out for a low-key dinner. After the stupid fundraiser is over, then we'll go out on a real date."

If I'm not mistaken, Joel is currently cracking his knuckles under the table.

"Kaden, once again, I appreciate your offer," I state, "but I'm not interested in going out. Not this Thursday. Not at the end of the month. Not ever."

Kaden's grin vaporizes. He gets to his feet. "Don't tell me that you've fallen under the spell of Mr. Star Point Guard, too. Trust me, Danielle: there are plenty of women waiting in line for Joel, and he doesn't care about any of them."

Joel stands up so fast that he nearly knocks over his chair. Though he appears as unaffected as ever, there's a storm brewing in his eyes as he tells Kaden:

"It has been great to have you stop by. However, Danielle and I need to get back to chemistry. My assignment is due tomorrow."

Kaden faces Joel squarely. His hands are fisted at his sides. "Sure, buddy. I'll let you study." He looks at me a final time. "I'll see you at the scrimmage this Thursday."

Kaden strolls away and exits the shop. Joel drops onto his chair, runs a hand through his hair, and mutters:

"I'm sorry about that, Danielle. It's no wonder that you think all athletes are self-absorbed clods."

I trace my thumb along the side of my cup while I attempt to collect my thoughts. At last, I reply:

"Admittedly, I used to think that. It's not what I think anymore, though."

Joel's eyes return to mine.

Suddenly, part of me feels like this is the moment when more―so much more―could and should be said. However, the other part of me insists there's no point in saying anything. Joel and I will be heading down really different paths soon, which means it's best for both of us to keep things simple. I therefore divert the conversation with:

"So what, exactly, is happening on Thursday with the team?"

Joel sits back in his chair. "It's an event the university hosts every year to celebrate the official start of basketball season. We have a team scrimmage, which is run like a regulation game. The projected starters and first players off the bench play against the rest of the team. It's a chance for the coaches to solidify the roster, and it's a last opportunity for those who don't play much to try to prove they deserve more time on the court."

"Gotcha." My mind is concocting an idea. "So Kaden will be attempting to prove at this scrimmage that he should be the starting point guard, correct?"

"Kaden has been trying to prove that since we were freshmen." Joel peers at me more closely. "You're smiling. What are you smiling about?"

"Oh, nothing." I motion to his textbook. "How about we get working on our next chemistry problem?"