Maya's text came through at 8:47 PM on Wednesday night.
Thursday. 10 PM. Library, third floor. Bring your chemistry notes. Don't be late.
Jake stared at the screen for a second. Then typed back: I'll be there.
He was there at 10:15. Early, for him.
Maya was already in her usual corner, surrounded by books, pen moving across her notepad without looking up. She'd pushed a second chair out slightly .
"You're early," she said, still not looking up.
Jake dropped his bag. "Don't make it weird."
Maya flipped her chemistry textbook to chapter seven and slid it across the table. "Stoichiometry. You're three chapters behind, so we need to cover mole ratios, limiting reagents, and percent yield in the next hour. Grab your notebook."
Jake pulled a fresh one from his backpack, flipped to a clean page, and uncapped his pen.
"All right, where do we start?"
She pointed at the first problem. "Balance the combustion equation for propane."
He stared at it for a moment, brow furrowed and wrote:
C₃H₈ + O₂ → CO₂ + H₂O.
"Now balance it," Maya said.
Jake added coefficients:
C₃H₈ + 5O₂ → 3CO₂ + 4H₂O.
"Double-check your oxygen count."
He frowned, recounting atoms, tapping the pen against the table. "That still isn't right."
"Exactly."
"I don't—" he muttered, erasing and rewriting the same numbers. "Why won't it balance?"
"Come on, guesswork isn't gonna cut it," Maya said with a smirk, sliding the notebook closer. "Let's do this properly. Match carbons first: three on the left, so you need three CO₂ on the right. Got that? Now, hydrogens: eight in total, so four H₂O gives you eight."
Jake traced the carbons and hydrogens, feeling the logic slowly sink in. "Okay… I can do this. I just need to take it slow."
"Alright, oxygens next. On the right, three CO₂ give six oxygens, and four H₂O add four more, that's ten oxygens total." Maya said.
Jake paused, thinking. "So… I need five O₂ molecules on the left to get ten oxygens?"
"Exactly. Write that down."
Jake scribbled it in. Then he frowned. "Wait… that leaves fractions if I tried half molecules somewhere, right?"
Maya smiled. "Right. You can't have half a molecule floating around. So if you ever get a fraction, you double everything to get whole numbers. That's why we double the whole equation: 2C₃H₈ + 10O₂ → 6CO₂ + 8H₂O."
Jake rubbed his eyes. "Tougher than it looks, but… okay. I think I got it."
"Next one."
Maya turned the page and pointed at the next equation. Jake stared down, furiously writing across the margin. He scribbled, erased, and scribbled again, each attempt ending with a row of angry X's. His jaw clenched, sweat prickling at his hairline.
By the third erasure, his right foot was a blur under the table. He tapped the pen against the tabletop—tap, tap—then let it clatter to the floor.
"I don't get it. I keep doing the same thing and it's not working."
"Okay, pause. Stop forcing it." She took the pen and notebook. "Look at what can't change, the atoms. Count them on both sides till they match."
"You mean like, count the atoms?"
"Yep. Do that."
Jake leaned in without noticing. He watched her mark the carbons—three here, three there—then oxygens. When she set the notebook back, he picked up the pen and copied her steps.
Halfway through, he paused. "So if there are three carbons…"
"You need three CO₂," Maya said, tapping the page.
He recalculated, nodded, and wrote the coefficient. A slow breath escaped him. "Okay."
He filled in the rest, eyed the page like it might shift, then looked up. "That… actually makes sense."
Maya reopened the textbook. "Good. Next one."
Jake flipped the page , to an equation on nitrogen and hydrogen forming ammonia. He sat quietly, moving H₂ and N₂ around like puzzle pieces till it looked balanced.
Maya watched, chin in hand.
After a moment, Jake looked up. "Think I've got it?"
She leaned forward, scanning the equation,"You do."
Jake grinned, relief breaking across his face. "Holy shit, I actually did it."
Maya raised an eyebrow. "Mind the language."
He shrugged with a smirk. "You slipped up too, when we did limiting reagents."
A ghost of a smile tugged at her mouth. "Tutor privileges."
"That's bullshit."
"Life's not fair," she said, nudging the book closer. "Keep going."
He turned the next page, a decomposition reaction stared back at him. He sketched it out, paused when the numbers didn't add up, erased a line, redrew it, and fixed the coefficients before Maya could say a word.
Maya nodded. "Looking good."
Jake tapped the pen against his paper. "That's it? No sticker on my forehead?"
Maya smiled. "You remembering this without my help tomorrow. That's the real prize."
He chuckled.
Maya closed the book, a genuine smile on her face.
Maya guided him through five more problems. Jake nailed most at first try, and for the few he stumbled on, a single hint from Maya sent him back on track.
When her phone buzzed, he looked up, surprised. His notebook was a grid of neat equations and molecular sketches, pages that had been blank an hour ago.
"Time's up," Maya said, gathering her things.
Jake blinked. "Already?"
Maya tucked her pencil into her case. "An hour. Same time Thursday?"
He packed his notebook and pen, sliding them into his backpack. "Thursday. And I'll bring my Calc book. If stoichiometry floors me, derivatives are a nightmare."Jake groaned, but the grin stayed. "You know,for a tutor, you're kinda brutal."
Maya shrugged. "You're paying for tough love. That's on you"
"So being mean is the perk."Maya folded her notes. "Just doing my job."
Jake laughed, slung the bag over his shoulder, and headed for the door. "See you Thursday, mean tutor."
Maya smiled. "See you Thursday."
Outside, the night air sliced against Jake's cheeks. Steam curled from his breath as he walked down the lamp-lit path, backpack swinging, mind buzzing with the unfamiliar rush of actually understanding. He didn't notice he was smiling. It was Maya. She didn't make a big deal out of his mistakes. She just kept nudging until he understood. Learning felt almost fun. Almost.
And it pissed him off how she'd made it look easy.
He needed a shower, and he needed to get off his feet. By the time he reached the athletic dorms, his legs were still burning from conditioning drills. He took the stairs to the third floor
Jake swiped his card and stepped into his room. Riley slipped in behind him and immediately claimed the bed, stretching out and pulling out his phone. He looked up as Jake dropped his bag.
"How was the study session?"
Jake dropped his backpack. "Fine."
"Just fine?"
"She's good. Really good. I actually understood what we were doing tonight."
Riley raised an eyebrow. "Damn. That's a first."
"Yeah." Jake pulled off his hoodie. "It's weird, though."
"What is?"
Jake rubbed the back of his neck. "She's just… I don't know. The way she explains stuff. And—ugh—it's dumb—but she makes me feel… I don't know… safe?"
Riley snorted. "Bro, you're totally into her."
"No! No way," Jake said, waving a hand. "It's not like that. I mean… she's already two steps ahead, and I'm just trying to keep up. And yeah… she definitely hates me."
Riley snorted. "Can you blame her? You ignored her at a party where she got beer dumped on her. And now you're paying her to tutor you."
"I didn't ignore her. I just—" Jake stopped. "Okay, yeah. I ignored her. But what was I supposed to do? Walk over and go 'Hey guys, this is Maya, the girl keeping me from failing. Let's all bond.'"
"You could've acknowledged her."
"I know." Jake sat down, elbows on his knees, dragging a hand through his hair. "I screwed up. And now every time we sit across from each other, I can feel her thinking it."
"Thinking what?"
"That I'm some entitled idiot who only notices people when he needs something."
Riley studied him. "Are you?"
Jake looked up.
"Maybe," he admitted. "I don't know. I don't think I'm trying to be. But I also don't think I've ever had to think about it before."
Riley nodded. "Well. Now you are."
He lay back, staring at the ceiling, phone beside him. He thought of Maya – her brow furrowed in concentration, a small smile playing on her lips, her hair catching the light as she leaned over the notebook.The memory sparked something, frustration, and… recognition. He hated needing her, because she was the one person who made him want to be more.
He pulled out his phone and opened his notes. Balancing equations = setting up plays. Atoms = players. Can't create/destroy, only rearrange.
He set the phone down and closed his eyes, running through stoichiometry problems in his head, testing the logic without Maya there.
It held. Barely, but it held.
For the first time in months, everything began to make sense. The most terrifying part? She was the one who got him there.