I stared at it. "Where'd you get that?"

"I found it on the floor in front of your locker."

"But I could have sworn I'd tossed it inside my locker."

"Must have slipped out," he said, answering the question on my face. He raised an eyebrow. "You're supposed to teach me how to balance equations," he offered, as if I were waiting for some direction. When I didn't answer, he pointed to the handwritten note on the first page.

I NEED YOU . . . PLEASE.-RW

"Please." He dipped low, that uneven smile back on his lips.

"Fine." I scowled at the mess on the table, remembering the pink slip that landed me in this situation to begin with. "You've got one hour, so pay attention. I'm only doing this once." I reached into my backpack for a spiral notebook, a calculator, and a pencil. The waitress came by and cleared away the plates, refilling our water glasses while I scrawled out a simple equation.

Al + O2 Al2 O3

I turned the paper toward Reece. "This is a chemical equation. Aluminum and oxygen are the reactants. The product is aluminum oxide. Your job is to balance it."

Reece nodded and watched, like maybe he was actually interested.

"We need the same amount of aluminum and oxygen on both sides. So how would you do that?"

"Easy." He grabbed my pencil and drew a two in front of the symbol for aluminum. Then slapped the pencil down, triumphant.

"Okay, hotshot. So you've got two aluminums on the reactant side. Now how do you balance your oxygen?"

He frowned over the notebook. Then he scratched 1.5 in front of the oxygen, but held on to the pencil this time, a little less sure of himself.

I'd seen that coming. It was a common mistake. It was human nature to look for the quick fix, not necessarily the right one, and Reece was no exception. "That would work if you could have half of an atom, but you can't. Atoms are indivisible. You can't cut an atom to make it fit into an equation."

He stared at me for a long moment. "Why not? Isn't that what you're doing?"

I looked at the equation, confused. "What are you talking about?"

"Changing your name just to fit in?" Reece studied me through the rain-slicked ends of his hair. "I mean, aren't you glad you're not a Jennifer or a Susan? Why do you hate your name so much?"

What the hell? He had no idea how it felt to grow up with a name like Nearly. "Isn't it obvious?"

"No." He kept digging, ignoring my don't-go-there glare. "What's the story? A name like that has to have a story."

I dropped the pencil and slouched back in the bench. "I was born premature, and I almost didn't make it. My mother didn't have a name picked out, but when the doctor told her they 'nearly' lost me . . ." I rolled my eyes over the air quotes. Why the hell was I telling him anyway? Just chemistry. That was the deal. I didn't have to tell him anything about me. "Stop changing the subject," I said, poking the equation with a finger. "Besides, we're not just talking about changing the name of an element. Even if it were possible, your solution would change the fundamental nature of the element. It would be like turning it into something else."

Reece looked from the paper to me, trying to look serious, but the gleam in his eye gave him away. "So you're saying an errant-and maybe slightly unbalanced-element can't fundamentally change?"

"That's what I'm saying."

He leaned over the table. "Even if it really, really wanted to?"

I drummed my fingers, patience wearing thin. "Can we please just focus on the equation?"

"Okay, fine." He slouched back against the booth. "So the elements are different. Big deal. Why don't we just put the elements together as they are, and mess with outcome later?"

I wasn't biting. This was all a big game to him. "You can't do that. The aluminum oxide molecule is what it is. You can't change the elements within a compound to force the fit."

He tossed the pencil down. "Are you always so rigid?"

"This is chemistry. The rules don't bend for good behavior."

"Well, it's a shitty rule." He glared at me across the table. "I'm just trying to get to know you."

"Getting to know me wasn't in our agreement." That was his agreement with Nicholson, and I'd be damned if I wanted any part of that.

"What if I want to change our agreement? What if I wanted to take you out sometime?"

"You're not my type."