Page 21 of Gingers Can Do Maths

She nods before digging into her purse and pulling out a jar of body butter.

I don’t care how tiny or how big any of her thousands of purses are, they’re all the same depth-wise,infinite. Yet I still find it shocking what she’s capable of fitting into them.

I eye the pretty rose gold packaging. It’s new.

“Yeah, I sell them at farmers' markets sometimes.” As she opens the jar to reveal the mousse whipped into the shape of a rose, that nostalgic aroma hits me all over again. “I can put some on you if you want. It’s safe to use all over.”

I nod and lean down, allowing her to run a little through my hair. We’re nearly nose to nose like this. If I just leaned in a few centimetres, I could taste her lips.

“What about lips?” I ask. “Mine are dry.”

She pauses and swallows. “Everywhere.”

I look at her expectantly and watch as she holds her breath, dipping the ring finger of her clean hand into the jar before running it around my lips carefully. So carefully she completes seven circles before realising it’s more than enough.

In the time it takes her to stop, I steal the chance to sink into those dark orbs that aren’t brown anymore. They’ve darkened to pitch black with want.

“Umm,” she clears her throat, pulling away and sealing the jar before sliding it across the table towards my laptop.

My angel’s always thinking of me. Always caring for me even when she doesn’t want to. Even when she’s trying her best to be stubborn and indifferent.

“That’s different. Making products. It’s not the same as solving equations.”

“A recipe is an equation, one I can’t solve as well as you can. But if you want something more comparable, you passed Ennox’s exam.”

She fiddles with a giant, powder blue macaroon eraser, rolling it beneath her palm. “Rohan, about that, I—”

“We don’t need to revisit the past,” I say quietly. Not yet anyway. “It’s the future that matters now.”

Our future.

“On your goals sheet, you wrote that you still wanted to go to Presley University.”

She nods again. “It’s still my dream.”

Our dream.

“Then don’t let anyone’s comments warp your thoughts and steal your dream. Don’t let your own self-doubts sabotage whatever it is that you desire.”

“You sound so confident in me.”

“Why wouldn’t I be? You’ve always been able to do anything. Making your own skin and hair care. Getting into advanced maths. Building robots. Passing Ennox.”

Her eyes fall back to the paper in front of her. “Rohan—”

“Times running out,” I say, eyeing the clock. “We can reminisce later. If you want. For now, just focus.”

“Easier said than done,” she grumbles.

I eye the elastic band on her wrist that she hasn’t snapped once. “You said pain brought you back to the present. So let’s up the distractions and you show me how you’ll cope. How you’ll refocus.”

She shoots a bewildered look at the papers beside me. “Are you going to pretend to take the test too? Make noises?”

“I may make noises.”

But you’ll make far more.

“Okay,” she says apprehensively, snapping the elastic band, once, then twice before picking up her pencil.

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