Sir, yes sir! I turned to take the one empty seat left in the room (apparently nerds show up on time to things) and stopped cold. There, sitting three rows away, and next to the exact seat that I had to take, was Carter O’Connor.

There were two possible days to take this exam, today and the week after. Of course we’d picked the same day. Why hadn’t Eliza warned me that he’d be there? She probably didn’t know, I thought.

“Hey, man.” I plopped the packet on my heavily graffitied desk. “Guess all the studying with me paid off,” I tried to joke.

He paused, considering actually speaking to me. Finally, he nodded back. “Good luck.”

I bubbled in my name on the exam sheet. I yearned to turn to Carter and start making fun of the exam proctor. I didn’t.

“Good morning, everyone,” the proctor finally said. “The exam will have four sections, each forty-five minutes. Do not skip ahead to the next section . . .” he rattled off the terms for every standardized test in existence. “Turn off your cell phones. No talking. Your time starts now.”

Packets shuffled as everyone raced to begin the first section. I sighed and went to Question #1. My heart pounded in my throat—I had no idea what I was reading. It’s okay. Deep breaths.

My testmates scribbled in their exam books, well underway with their answers. Carter glanced over. Seeing how nervous I was, he nodded. Either to say I could do it, or to say I was wasting time. No matter, it helped me pull myself back together and begin the freaking test.

That. Was. Exhausting. By the end of the three hours, my stomach growled like I was officially starving out of my life, while it was barely lunchtime. I packed up my stuff and turned on my phone to see a few emails and a voicemail from Eliza. While the rest of the test-takers filed out, her message played.

“Hey, superstar.” Her voice was loud on the receiver, especially in the mostly empty classroom. “Wanted to say good luck today! So good luck! Love you.”

I smiled. That was cute.

Carter stood at the front of the classroom, right by the door, waiting for me.

“You hitting the road now?” he asked.

“Probs. Traffic’s gonna suck on the way back.”

Carter nodded, like he was in the same boat. “Hey, real quick, want to grab lunch?”

What?

“Yeah,” I said, “of course. Where were you thinking?”

Carter led me to a pizza joint next to the school. Because where else could we have our first discussion together in months?

Pizza was the great equalizer.

We each ordered a slice and a Coke. Carter picked out a booth by the window, and I have to say, it felt very Godfather-y. This was the part where I was either about to be warned about impending death, or he was about to demand wads of cash.

“I’m going to get right to it,” said Carter, looking down at his pizza. He was uncomfortable because he was being direct, but not meeting my eyes. Carter was the OB person who had told me that directness is all about looking someone in the eye.