I Wish You All the Best(33)

“Look.” I grab his notebook and flip to an empty sheet. “Here, just work it out.” I watch him copy down the problem, carefully making his way through it. “Remember to move that over,” I add.

“There?” He shows me his work.

“Type it in, see if it’s right,” I say, even though I know he’s got it.

The website gives him a little “Good Job!” before it moves on to the next question. “Jesus, how long is this quiz?”

I reach for my bag at the foot of his bed. “You’ve done one question, stop whining.” I open my sketchbook to the newest page. It’s only been a few weeks, but I’m already close to needing a new one. The pages are sticking out, notes and sketches pouring from the seams, and I’ve only got a handful of empty pages left. “Just keep going.”

“Fine, Mom.” He groans, pulling the laptop closer. “What are you drawing?”

“Not sure yet. I’ll let you see when you’re finished.” I turn so I can hide the sketchbook from view. “Now get to work. Those ten points will come in handy.”

“Fine, fine.” He starts to work again. “Hey, what about this?” Nathan hands me his notebook, and I check over his work. “The answers aren’t adding up.”

I read over his equations quickly. “Close, you got the root wrong here.” It’s not that far up into the problem, so he won’t have to redo too much work. “Try that again and it should work out.” I hand the notebook back to him.

He lets out a long sigh and erases his work. “This is torture.”

“I know, but you’re getting there,” I say, trying to focus back on my drawing. Except I can’t think of anything to draw. My mind has gone totally blank, I can’t envision anything; hell, I can’t even think where I’m supposed to start. Just a line, and then another line. I huff and lean my head back.

“Stuck?” Nathan asks without looking at me.

“Sort of.”

“I get that way sometimes too. When I’m writing.”

“Oh yeah? Any tips for getting out of it?”

“I’m not the artist here.” He grins. “Maybe draw something around you?”

“Like?”

“That, my Padawan, is all up to you.” He points at me with the eraser end of his pencil.

“Have I ever told you how helpful you are?” I ask.

“No.”

“Good, because you aren’t.” It doesn’t occur to me how mean that could sound until I’ve already said it, but Nathan’s just laughing away.

“You asked,” he half sings. Maybe he’s right, except there really isn’t anything in this room that I know. Well, there’s one thing. But would drawing Nathan be too creepy? He’s sitting still enough, and there’s enough light.

You know what? Screw it.

It’s weird to have a Nathan that isn’t moving or talking with his hands. He’s in the thick of it, the gears in his head turning. He’s even sticking out his tongue a little, and I hate to admit that it’s totally adorable.

In fact, I don’t think there’s one imperfection. Not the bumps on his chin, the small cut on his cheek that I’m guessing is from shaving, the slight circles under his eyes. It all feels on purpose. I don’t think Nathan Allan is capable of accidents. He doesn’t seem like the type.

I start with his pose, a skeleton. Easy enough, his back against the wall, both knees propped up so he can balance his notebook, because he’s where he belongs, in his own environment. I wonder what that feels like.

The hook of his nose to his mouth might be my favorite part, the straight lines suddenly curving right down to his mouth. But then he starts chewing on the end of his pen, and I just have to huff and roll my eyes. I’ll get back to that later. It’s his smaller details that will be the hardest to capture. The freckles across his nose, the shape of his brow, the way the corners of his eyes slope down just a little.

“Hey.” His voice makes me jump. Guess I was in deep. “I don’t get this one.” He hands me his notebook. God, how long was I out like that?

“You just need to find b.” I look over the question. It’s complicated. In fact, I’m really not sure it needs to be on an algebra quiz, it looks so advanced.

“I got that, Einstein, but that really isn’t helping.”

“Einstein was more into physics, though you aren’t far off.” I scoot closer to him. “Here, rewrite the equation with the log terms on one side.”

“Then you rewrite the substitution, right?”

“Yeah. And now you can solve it like you normally would,” I say, pointing to the newly formed equation.

“Okay, I think I’ve got it.” He grins, showing off those dimples again. I watch him quickly move through the rest of the problem until he finally comes to the answer, showing it to me for approval.

“Yep. That’s it.”

“Oh God, man, I could kiss you.”

My heart sort of sinks in my chest. “Yeah.”

He types in the answer, and I move back to my spot, grabbing my sketchbook before I sit on it.

“Okay, let’s see it.” Nathan sticks out his hand.

“Huh?”