Page 86 of The Girlfriend Agreement (Conwick U #1)
Pi is a paradox: irrational yet unavoidable. Kind of like falling in love with someone you once thought you hated.
December
The next month is a whirlwind. Between classes and studying for finals before Christmas break, almost every available moment is spent with Damian working on his proposal.
Some nights, we chip away at it in his dorm room, sprawled side by side on his bed like two research goblins—him on his laptop scouring public data, industry reports, and economic papers, and me half buried in spreadsheets and numbers—only breaking to occasionally frisk each other or caffeinate.
I alternate between perfecting an affordability formula—one that doesn’t just look at a person’s income, but takes into account variables like debt, existing medical expenses, dependents, and cost-of-living adjustments to determine what they can actually afford—and a price elasticity model that balances affordability for patients with long-term sustainability for the company, ensuring that Hallazgo remains profitable while allowing the initiative to grow and help the people who need it.
A few nights into our collaboration, I realized that Damian was watching me work, his eyes focused on the way I moved through the numbers with ease.
When I met his gaze, I saw something in it—a sort of unbridled curiosity, like he was trying to figure me out.
At first, I dismissed it, chalking his reaction up to the usual skepticism people always show when they witness me solving complex equations so quickly.
But then I glimpsed that look on his face again—the question in his eyes, like he wanted to understand—and without him saying a word, I found myself explaining the way my brain works.
I told him how numbers and formulas aren’t just numbers to me—they’re colors and physical shapes in the world, like math-based art only I can see.
And that’s when it occurred to me…Damian wasn’t surprised by my answer. He didn’t ask follow-up questions or even blink at my explanation. He merely smiled as I spoke and nodded, as if he already understood on some level, and I was just filling in the blanks.
His reaction to my synesthesia was not what I expected…
or anticipated, not with the memory of my father still so clear in my head.
Of him walking away. I hadn’t realized until then how much I’d been holding onto my fear of people not understanding me, of them judging me for something I can’t change or control.
Something that just makes me…me. But Damian didn’t react the way I feared.
He just accepted me without condition or hesitation… the way I wish my father had.
And I think it was in that moment that I truly grasped that not all men are like my father.
That Damian isn’t like my father. Because instead of the frustration and confusion my dad often exhibited when I was a child—not just that he couldn’t understand me, but that he couldn’t even be bothered to try—I saw an unfiltered awe in Damian’s eyes, quiet but genuine.
He looked at me like I was something not just wholly unique but special .
Someone to be cherished. And for the first time since this agreement began, I really allowed myself to believe he wouldn’t ever walk away.
As the days and nights blur together, with each of us immersed in our own dedicated corner of the project, it becomes clear that the hard part isn’t the math; it’s the constant hunt for the right data to back it all up.
Fortunately, a lot of information is accessible online—industry pricing and sales data, studies and surveys on patient affordability and existing patient assistance programs, copay and deductible trends, as well as insurance denial claim rates specifically related to the drugs Hallazgo produces.
We even scour crowdfunding sites like GoFundMe for real-world examples of people struggling with healthcare costs, which fuels our motivation when we see just how widespread the problem really is in our country.
But despite what we’re able to find, what we don’t have is access to Hallazgo’s financial department or internal data—not until Damian actually starts his employment there, which is still several months away, assuming it happens at all—so the best we can do is construct a theoretical framework of what the program might look like using what information we can glean from those publicly available reports, financial disclosures, census data, and studies, as well as the insider information Damian is able to persuade out of industry professionals who agree to meet with him because of his name.
And a lot of people agree to meet with him, eager for the chance at a partnership with the industry-leading Hallazgo brand, which has traditionally focused on high-margin specialty drugs and exclusive insurance agreements over exploring its corporate social responsibility, showing us plenty of untapped potential is out there if the company were to branch out.
When Damian first asked me to help him with the proposal, I underestimated just how much he had already planned and considered.
For someone who’s made a habit of only coasting when it comes to his schoolwork, I’m taken aback by how clever he is, and beyond impressed when it becomes clear he knows a lot more about this industry than I had expected.
He wasn’t joking when he said he had ideas for ways to make the program profitable and appealing to the company’s board of directors, and with every research university department head and hospital executive who shows an interest in what we’re setting out to achieve, the more I believe this can actually work and become something real. Something good .
And each time I glance at Damian while we’re working, those dark eyes set on his laptop screen or on the dozens of medical and economic journals scattered around him, I find I love him a little bit more—not just for what he’s done for me and my mom, but for what he’s attempting to accomplish now.
The kind of man he’s aiming to become. More than anything, I love him for taking this risk, for reaching for something.
For chasing the dream he holds onto so tightly, even if there’s the risk his father might reject it.
What matters is that he’s trying , that he cares , which means way more to me than any amount of money.
During these weeks of research, I glimpse a side of Damian I haven’t seen before, and I quickly find that Ambitious Damian is the sexiest version of Damian by far.
He’s intelligent and calculating in a way that’s often masked by his sarcasm and general demeanor, and getting this chance to see him—really see him—opens a floodgate inside me that I don’t know how to close.
Some days, I feel like I could go mad with how badly I want him. Other days, I don’t bother resisting. I simply lay down whatever I’m working on, push his laptop aside, climb into his lap, and show him just how much his drive and determination turn me on.
When we aren’t cooped up in Damian’s dorm, we relocate to the library, or on the days when Gina has work, we come back to my house in-between classes and in the evenings, so I can keep an eye on Mom.
Following her collapse last month, she was released from the hospital after twenty-four hours without needing a transfusion or any further complications, but the fear that it could happen again lingers like a bad taste in my mouth; I refuse to take any chances by leaving her alone for too long.
Luckily, Mom doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, I think she even likes Damian despite learning about the bet.
I’m sure it helps that I told her about his family drama, so she knows there’s a rebellious aspect to his past behavior.
Plus, he’s a perfect gentleman in her presence, the epitome of charm.
He’s polite, attentive, and even cooks us dinner most evenings (I hadn’t been aware he could cook, although I guess I’m not really surprised after meeting his abuela, who is an absolute mastermind in the kitchen).
And I can tell she respects what he’s doing—that she has an emotional stake in what he’s setting out to accomplish with the initiative.
I suppose it’s hard to dislike someone who is actively trying to financially help people with chronic and terminal illnesses, especially when one of those people is you.
And I know she feels grateful to him for paying her hospital bill, even if she keeps insisting that we need to stop taking his money.
Still, the more time he spends at my house, the more I’m convinced it isn’t anything he does that sways my mom’s mind in his favor so much as her seeing me happy.
And I am happy. I’m freaking ecstatic, and it took feeling this elation to realize just how not happy I was before.
I wasn’t unhappy, per say—there were plenty of good and meaningful things in my life—but in a lot of ways, I was just surviving the day to day, like Damian was, treading water with no land in sight.
But now, I’ve finally found my way to solid ground, and with every step onto the shore, I’m leaving behind the endless, exhausting pull of the tide.
It’s terrifying, knowing how easily and suddenly life could snatch this away, but in those moments of fear, I remember what Ronnie said to me at the hospital—how I shouldn’t let this second chance slip away just because I’m scared. And in those moments, I cling even tighter.