Rocket Science

by K. M. Neuhold

  I snort a laugh and shake my head and then hold my phone up to snap a picture of myself. My hair is wet and without my shirt on, the colorful tattoos covering my chest and arms are on full display. I wonder for a second if the kid will even recognize or remember me. It’s been years since we’ve crossed paths. I send the picture, and it shows as being seen immediately, the little dots bounce indicating he’s typing something, then they disappear, a few moments later they appear again, but I get tired of waiting for a reply, so I decide to get started on that nap I planned in the meantime.

  I unwrap the towel from around my waist and hang it on the back of the bathroom door, then make a beeline for my bedroom and crawl between my cool, soft sheets. Before I can close my eyes, my phone vibrates with another text.

  Einstein: Paxton, hi

  I smile, an odd sort of affection filling my chest for the little Nerdlet. That’s what took him so long to type and send?

  Pax: Hi

  Einstein: I’m sure Theo made me sound like I’m record breaking levels of pathetic, but I assure you, you don’t need to take pity on me. I appreciate the invite, but you don’t have to do this. I’ll tell him we hung out and had a great time, that way he’ll leave you alone.

  That would be the easier option, but for some reason, I find myself slightly intrigued to see what the grown-up Nerdlet is like. Call it a bad case of curiosity.

  Pax: No can do. A promise is a promise.

  Pax: One drink

  Again, in spite of the messages showing as read, he doesn’t respond right away. It’s an odd situation for me to be lying naked in my bed, staring at my phone, waiting for a message, and not have it be sexting. My dick could not be less interested in this situation, and yet, strangely, I continue to hold my phone and wait to see if Einstein is going to agree to meet up or not.

  When a new text finally comes through, I scramble to open it.

  Einstein: Fine. See you at 9.

  A triumphant smirk settles on my lips, and I finally set my phone back down, pulling a pillow against my chest and settling into sleep.

  *****

  Twisted Cherry is crowded, but I manage to spot an unoccupied high-top table and snag it while I wait for Einstein to show. My eyes scan the crowd reflexively, even though right now I’m more curious to see the Nerdlet than to find a piece of ass. Images of him from all those years ago fill my mind and make me smile. He always seemed to be lugging around a bag full of textbooks that weighed more than he did, thick-rimmed glasses in place and curly hair that was never in place. I wonder if he still wears the t-shirts with the science puns on them or if he still keeps his inhaler on a string around his neck to keep from losing it.

  I chuckle to myself at the thought and wave down the nearest waiter for a drink and then return to letting my attention wander. My gaze catches on a man as he wanders into the bar. He’s not my usual type, but damn if he isn’t pretty. His dark hair hangs in wild curls, flopping down over his forehead, his features are sharp, but his lips look full and soft, and I have no doubt they’d feel like heaven wrapped around my cock. He’s wearing a pair of jeans, a black t-shirt, and a light-colored blazer that might look out of place in a bar on anyone else, but somehow looks absolutely perfect on him.

  I have a hard time tearing my eyes off him, my dick growing hard in the confines of my jeans as I stare shamelessly, and he looks around the bar with a somewhat lost expression. He turns his head slightly, and our eyes meet, and a shy, awkward smile forms on his lips. My cock gets even harder as I return the smile, thoughts of the Nerdlet I’m here to meet fleeing my mind in favor of calculating the best method of seducing such a sweet little treat.

  “Paxton?” he asks, and my heart sinks.

  “Fuck me,” I mutter, reaching for my drink.

  Elijah

  I draw up short, my stomach twisting with nerves as Pax takes a long gulp from his glass, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. If I had any notion that he’d somehow become less attractive over the years, the photo he sent me earlier put that idea to rest. I nearly swallowed my tongue when the image popped up on my screen of my adolescent obsession clearly fresh out of the shower, possibly completely nude. The tattoos were a newer addition, and while I can’t say tattoos are something I would generally classify as attractive, they certainly looked good on Pax.

  I thought he recognized me when our eyes met, he’d smiled and seemed happy about my approach. But, after his angry utterance, I’m not so sure. I hang a few feet away from the table, waiting to see what he’ll say next. Perhaps he changed his mind about getting together. Did I miss a text calling the whole thing off? My hand itches to reach for my phone to check, but my nerves are strung so tight all I can do is stand there like a deer in the headlights and wait.

  “You grew up good, Einstein. I didn’t recognize you at first,” he says once he sets his glass down, a friendly smile on his lips now. He’s so much like how I remembered him, blue eyes full of humor like there’s an inside joke only he’s privy to. Oddly, it doesn’t feel like he’s laughing at me, more like he’s laughing with me, like I’m somehow in on the joke even though I haven’t heard it. He drags his hand through his dark hair, which is longer on top and buzzed short on the sides. It looks nice on him.

  “Really?” I look down at myself, wondering what could possibly look different about me. Sure, I dress a little differently now, but aside from that, I’m certain I look like I always have.

  He chuckles, and the sound is rich and warm, sending a small shiver through me.

  “Let’s get you a drink,” he suggests, flagging down a waiter and using his foot to push the nearest chair in my direction, an invitation to sit down, I would assume.

  I wait a few seconds, assessing the situation before deciding that yes, this is in fact an invitation to sit down. I slip into the chair and fold my hands on the table in front of me, more acutely aware of them than I usually am. Hands are an odd thing, so useful and yet perpetually in the way.

  “What can I get for you?” the waiter asks, and my mind goes completely blank. I’ve never been much of a drinker, and when I do drink, I typically always ordered whatever Theo was having. I glance at Pax’s glass and then back at the waiter.

  “I’ll have what he’s having.”

  “Sure thing, be back in a minute, sweetie.”

  The bar is loud, almost too loud to hear myself think, but there’s an awkward kind of silence that settles between Pax and myself. It occurs to me that although I’ve known him most of my life, the two of us have never had a direct conversation. My brain scrambles for something to say, panic setting in. This is exactly why socializing is agony. The only reason I managed a friendship with Theo early on was that he had a knack for filling silences like these.

  “So…um…” I shift in my seat, tracing the grains of wood on the table with my index finger.

  “I have to say, I’m a little disappointed you traded in your science pun t-shirts for a more adult wardrobe,” he says with a hint of amusement, and my face flames.

  I can’t believe he remembers the t-shirts I used to wear. And now it definitely feels like he’s laughing at me.

  “Please don’t make fun of me.” The words surprise me as they fall out of my mouth firmly, even if they are hardly above a whisper. “I know this is a pity hangout, but don’t be cruel.”

  His forehead crinkles, his eyebrows drawing together.

  “I wasn’t making fun of you,” he says. “I really did like the t-shirts, they were funny.”

  “Oh.” I’m not sure how it’s possible but my face gets even hotter.

  “So, tell me about yourself, Einstein. You’re clearly not the little Nerdlet I remember.”

  It’s the second time he’s called me Einstein. I remember the nickname from when we were younger, and I can’t believe he remembered it, but it also leaves me wondering if he remembers my actual name or not. If I wasn’t already so embarrassed, I might ask.

  “There’s not much to tell.” I s
hrug. “I’m in the PhD program for aerospace engineering at CalTech, which I think you already know. That’s about it.”

  “There’s no way that’s it,” he disagrees. “What about hobbies, boyfriends, deep seated insecurities you’re dying to share over a drink even though we both know it’s way too much information too quickly?”

  “Um, no to all three.” The waiter returns with my drink, saving me from any follow up questions. I reach for the glass and lift it to my lips, sputtering as soon as the first sip hits the back of my throat.

  Pax chuckles again, and I consider turning tail and running before I can embarrass myself further, but unfortunately that would be equally as humiliating. He waves the waiter over again, and I give a sheepish smile.

  “Can we add some Coke to this whiskey, help it go down a little easier,” Pax requests, handing my glass back over and shooting me a wink.

  “Sure thing,” the waiter says, taking the glass and disappearing into the crowd again.

  “Oh my god, he’s probably going to spit in my drink for causing him trouble,” I lament.

  “A little spit never killed anyone,” he reasons, and my mouth falls open. “I’m kidding. I’m a regular here, I promise he won’t spit in your drink.”

  The waiter returns quickly with my doctored drink, and it turns out the soda does help the whiskey go down a lot smoother.

  *****

  I’m not sure how long we’ve been at the bar or how many drinks I’ve had but my brain feels fuzzy and loose, my tongue seeming to have a mind of its own.

  “And here I thought you were smart all these years,” I tease, watching the way Pax’s face lights with amusement, his formerly neat hair now hanging a bit disheveled over his forehead, his cheeks slightly pink, I’m assuming from the alcohol.

  “I am smart,” he counters. “I graduated top of my class with a degree in engineering, just because I decided to pursue the sales side of things does not mean I’m not smart.”

  “If you were smart, you’d know that there’s no way the Millennium Falcon could do a Kessel Run in under twelve parsecs. It has one of the least aerodynamic designs I’ve ever seen.”

  “Not aerodynamic?” he repeats in disbelief. “Have you ever seen a frisbee? They’re plenty aerodynamic.”

  “A frisbee is not a spaceship, different things need to be considered,” I argue.

  “You’re right, considering that the spacecrafts in Star Wars are capable of lightspeed travel, I’d say that aerodynamics aren’t even what’s really in question. What you want to consider is photodynamics.”

  My mouth falls open as I find myself at a legitimate loss for words.

  “Furthermore,” Pax goes on, pausing to drain his latest drink. “If you look into Star Wars lore, a parsec is a unit of distance, not a unit of time, so one can assume Han was just talking out of his ass to sound like a hotshot, rather than listing actual specs for the Millennium Falcon.”

  “Wow,” I murmur, still dumbfounded. “Alcohol clearly makes me stupid, and also, you’re a total nerd,” I tease, letting the surprise infiltrate my voice. “I mean, I knew you were smart, but you’re a nerd.”

  “Shut up,” Pax says with a chuckle.

  “Does anyone else know, or are you completely in the closet?” I ask with mock innocence.

  “I’m not a nerd; Star Wars is completely mainstream,” he argues.

  “Yes but knowing that a parsec is a measure of distance rather than time is not mainstream.”

  “Are you hungry?” he asks, deflecting rather than acknowledging my statement.

  My stomach rumbles at the question.

  “Starving,” I say, standing up and wobbling on my feet. I grab for the table to steady myself and nearly take the whole thing down. “Dang, I am way too drunk.”

  Pax stands up gracefully. He’s had at least as much as I have, but he’s clearly better at holding his liquor than I am. He slings an arm over my shoulders and pulls me against him. My whole body heats at the contact.

  “There’s a killer burrito place across the street, let’s go.”

  Pax

  Whoever’s idea it was to open a late-night burrito place smack dab in the middle of all the bars on the street is clearly a genius. I have no clue if the burritos are even any good since I’ve never tasted one sober, but I do know they hit the spot after a fuckload of alcohol.

  “What’s good here?” Einstein asks, looking up at the menu and swaying on his feet.

  “Grab a seat, I’ll get the food.”

  He wobbles to the nearest table without protest, and I order our food. I keep an eye on him while I wait for our burritos to be up, and it becomes clear I’m not the only one who thinks he’s pretty damn cute. A table of guys who came from Twisted Cherry eye him and exchange what I’m sure are lewd comments. I wonder which of the guys at the table, if any, are his type. Theo did ask me to help him socialize after all, so the ponderance is relevant, or so I tell myself.

  Once our food is up, I grab the trays and carry them over to the table.

  “Here you go, Nerdlet,” I say, setting his down in front of him. He frowns up at me.

  “Do you remember my name?” he asks suspiciously.

  “Elijah,” I purr, the alcohol in my system unleashing my flirty side with full force. But I refuse to acknowledge the way his name rolls off my tongue or how cute he is when his cheeks pink.

  “Oh,” he says a little shyly, reaching for his food and digging in without another word.

  “This was fun; we should do it again,” I say as I dig into my own burrito. The words are a surprise even to me, but as soon as they’re out, I realize they’re true. Once he loosened up a little, this was a fun night, even if I didn’t end up picking anyone up to take home.

  “Get drunk and eat burritos?” he asks.

  “It doesn’t have to be this exact thing, but the general concept—hang out, drinks, food, building a bond that may someday be considered friendship.”

  And there’s that blush again.

  “Yeah, that sounds good,” he agrees, keeping his eyes on his food while a shy smile forms on his lips.

  “Good.”

  Chapter 3

  Elijah

  It feels like there’s a jackhammer inside my skull doing its level best to break out. I groan, rolling over in my bed and swallowing back the wave of nausea that washes over me. Bits and pieces of last night flicker back into my memory—drinks, so many drinks, Pax and I laughing and talking, burritos…

  The thought of the burritos has my stomach revolting in a violent fashion. I throw back my blankets and bolt for the bathroom with one hand over my mouth. Falling to my knees in front of the toilet, I wince as the cold tile touches my skin, and I lose the battle against my stomach, emptying its contents into the toilet. Once I’m sure I’ve puked up everything I’ve eaten in the last week, I rinse out my mouth and pathetically shuffle back to my bed, grabbing my phone off the nightstand as I go.

  Elijah: I’m never drinking again

  Theo: Lol, omg did you actually leave your apartment???

  Elijah: Your brother texted me and said we’d have ONE drink. The man is Satan. He got me drunk and took advantage of me.

  Theo: What?!?!?!

  Elijah: Not like THAT. Calm down. He kept buying me drinks is all I mean. We actually had an ok time. At least I think we did. I had a good time, and I’m sure Paxton was humoring me and was glad to finally be rid of me when he poured me into an Uber sometime around two in the morning.

  Theo: Jeez, don’t scare me like that again. I thought I was going to have to buy a plane ticket to come out there and fuck my brother up.

  Theo: And I’m sure he had fun too. You’re a fun person, E, you just need to let loose a little.

  Elijah: Oh, I was plenty loose last night.

  I wince at the memory of calling Pax an idiot. He didn’t seem too upset by it though, and he did say he wanted to hang out again, although I’m sure he was just being polite.

  I pull m
y blankets up to my chin and close my eyes again, not interested in anything other than more sleep and whatever will stop the pounding in my head. My phone vibrates again on the bed next to me, and I reach for it, expecting another text from Theo, most likely including some kind of sexual innuendo I’ll only partially understand. My heart jumps into my throat when I see who it’s actually from.

  Pax: How are you feeling this morning? I got the impression you aren’t normally much of a lush.

  Elijah: Pretty sure I’m dying

  Pax: That’s unfortunate. Try some aspirin and a glass of water, it may turn out to be a miracle cure ;)

  Elijah: Ok, I’ll do that once I can move without wanting to puke again

  Pax: Where do you live?

  Elijah: Near campus, why?

  Pax: Because I’m planning to stalk you, and it’ll be a lot easier if I get your address

  My stomach gives a little flip at his teasing, my fingers hovering over the keys, my mind desperately trying to come up with something witty to say in return. I’m not delusional. I know my stupid little teenage crush isn’t going to come to anything, but it would be nice to have a friend out here in California. If I could somehow become the kind of person who knows the right things to say, who’s funny and confident, maybe Pax really would want to be my friend. But no matter how hard I wrack my aching brain, I can’t come up with anything funny to say in return, and the longer I wait the more awkward a reply will be. Instead, I just text him my address. Why he wants it, I can’t begin to guess.

  It shows that the message was read, but he doesn’t respond, so after a few minutes I close my eyes and let myself fall back asleep.

  The sound of my buzzer jolts me out of sleep sometime later. I search my sleep fuzzy brain, trying to remember if I ordered something from Amazon because I can’t imagine anyone other than UPS ringing my bell. Maybe someone else in the building forgot their key and randomly pressed my buzzer hoping I’d let them in. My head falls back onto my pillow, and I sigh tiredly, trying to decide if it’s worth it to get up to see who’s at the door. The buzzer sounds again, and I throw my blankets back and reluctantly get out of bed. I’m sure my hair is sticking up in every possible direction, and I’m not wearing anything aside from my t-shirt from last night and my boxers, but if it is UPS, I can just buzz them in and let them leave whatever it is I forgot that I ordered outside my apartment door until I can put some pants on.