Page 68 of The Long Way Home
The hypothalamus regulates hunger, thirst, body temperature…
My brain fills in the rest, but I can’t seem to retain it.
Rhett doesn’t speak. He just stays where he is, arms folded.
He watches me study for nearly thirty minutes. No scrolling. No checking his phone. Just… there.
And I let him. Because right now, I don’t have it in me to tell him to go.
“Alright, Sunny,” he says quietly, “how about we move this somewhere quieter? My roommates are out for the week, so it’s just me at the house. I’ll quiz you until you get it all down.”
I glance up, unsure if he is joking. “You want to quiz me? I thought all that ‘senior spring’ and ‘done with academics’ talk was just showing off your free time. You sure you want to waste it studying with me?”
He smirks and shrugs. “Yeah. I might be done with finals, but I’m not done helping you.”
“Wouldn’t you rather hang out with Josh?” I raise an eyebrow.
He starts gathering my scattered pens. “Josh is over at your dorm helping Margo with her marketing final.”
I groan and sink back in my chair. “Oh, great. So now I need a new place to crash tonight, too.”
“Just stay with me,” he says, like it is no big deal.
I gulp.
I don’t have many options. And I definitely don’t want to listen to Josh and Margo make out or complain about not being able to. Rhett twirls his keys on his finger like it’s just any other Thursday, not caring whether I say yes.
I sigh. “Fine. I guess you’re the lesser evil.”
His mouth twitches.
“I mean, you do have better snacks than Josh. And marginally fewer emotional breakdowns.”
“Marginally?”
“Let’s not get cocky.”
I pack up my books and notebooks, sliding the last flashcard into my bag with a sigh. Rhett grabs a couple of bags without being asked, and we head out together.
The evening air is cool against my skin. We walk down the library steps in silence.
Rhett’s house sits just past the edge of campus. Typical senior-guy digs: single-story, peeling paint, creaky screen door, just enough charm to keep it from feeling completely like a frat house.
Inside, it’s quiet. The low hum of traffic drifts through the windows. The living room feels lived-in. A worn couch sags in the middle of the room. Their coffee table is crowded with mugs and a few empty beer cans.
Photos line the walls. One shows him and Josh, arms slung around each other at a party, red Solo cups in hand, grins too wide to be sober. Another shows him, Josh, and their other roommates, Daniel and Noah.
“All right, test time,” Rhett announces, flopping onto the couch across from me. He gives me a mock-serious look and pulls a few index cards from his pocket, shuffling them.
He reads the first card, tone exaggerated. “Explain synaptic plasticity.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Wow, jumping right in with a tough one, huh?” Still, I inhale and let the answer rise from the murky exhaustion in my brain. “It’s the ability of synapses to strengthen or weaken over time in response to increases or decreases in their activity. It’s a key mechanism in learning and memory.”
Rhett nods, mouth twitching into a smile. “Looks like you don’t need to be eased into it, Sunny.” He draws another card.“Okay. What’s the difference between long-term potentiation and long-term depression in synaptic activity?”
I roll my eyes, already answering. “Long-term potentiation strengthens synaptic connections, making transmission more effective. Long-term depression weakens them, reducing efficiency.”
“Exactly.” His grin widens, genuine pride in his expression. “See? You’ve got this.”
