The Code for Love and Heartbreak - Jillian Cantor Page 0,32

I might start to cry. “I made a mess out of everything, didn’t I?” I don’t know what it is that lets me feel comfortable enough to speak honestly with Sam in a way I couldn’t with Dad last night. Maybe it’s just that he’s been on my side with this app the whole time. Or maybe it’s that he’s here right now, that he brought me donuts. Or maybe it’s the sweet half smile on his face, the kind way he’s looking at me now like he truly wants to help, wants to make everything better. “Does Hannah hate me?” I ask as I finish off my donut and lick the glaze off my fingers. He holds out the bag to offer me another one but I shake my head. The first is already settling as a nervous lump in my stomach, and I feel a little sick, imagining Hannah hating me.

“Hannah was upset last night when we drove her home,” Sam says. “But I don’t think she hates you, E.” Poor Hannah. She was so happy earlier in the day, in the evening, laughing and dancing. “You’ll make her another match and she can forget all about this.” Sam is still talking.

“Oh, no way. I’m done,” I say quickly. George was right, Izzy was right. Phillip was right when he laughed at me. I’m not equipped to match people, not even using math. “We can all go recycle now and get our karma points.”

Sam laughs and shakes his head. “First of all, we already submitted The Code for Love in our competition application, and Friday was the deadline. We can’t change it now. I double-checked with George on that this morning.” I sigh, realizing he’s right. The deadline has passed—we can’t change our application. We either go forward or we drop out. “And second of all,” Sam continues, “this still has tons of potential. We just need to reconfigure it to account for the Phillips of the school somehow. You really shouldn’t feel bad, E. You had no way to know what those guys were thinking.”

But I can’t help but wonder, if I were more like Izzy, would I have known? My whole life I’ve had a hard time understanding other people; why did I think this was going to be any different? Because this wasn’t really being social, this was supposed to be all about math. Numbers don’t lie. Except guys like Phillip do. I sigh again, and bury my face in my hands. “It doesn’t matter...this is still my fault. I can always count on math, but this time it failed me. And everyone is mad at me now.”

“Hey.” He reaches across the couch cushion and pats my knee gently. “I’m not mad at you.” His hand lingers on my knee for a few seconds, so I can feel the warmth of his fingers through the thin fabric of my sweatpants, and I move in a little closer to him. If math has failed me in this particular situation, failed Hannah, then was it wrong about Sam and Laura, too?

I look up again and his face is closer to mine. I get this weird feeling that it might be enjoyable to kiss him, that the pressure of his lips against mine might feel thrilling, not disgusting, and I move my face in even closer to him, so our lips are almost touching but not quite. But we’re close enough that I can feel the warmth of his breath against my face. If I moved just the smallest bit closer, my lips and his lips would touch.

“E,” he says softly, extracting his hand from my leg, moving back. “I had a good time with Laura last night. I like her. Math didn’t fail you at all. Phillip and his friends are just jerks.”

“Right,” I say, my face suddenly flaming hot. I never get embarrassed, but now I feel so truly and desperately embarrassed. It washes over me, hot and sticky, unexpected and unfamiliar, and I want to run upstairs, slam my bedroom door shut, turn my fan on high and hide on my bed underneath it.

But if Sam and Laura actually had a good time last night, if they genuinely like each other, then that means my algorithm isn’t a complete disaster. That our project isn’t completely ruined. And I know that’s a good thing. But it’s still hard to breathe, and my face still burns too hot.

“I should probably go,” Sam says, standing. “I’ll leave you