Rocket Science

by K. M. Neuhold

  “We going to sit here all day or what?” Theo asks impatiently, redirecting Pax’s attention away from our staring contest.

  We pick up Alex on the way, and he climbs into the backseat beside me with a dish in his hand and a smile on his face.

  “This is so exciting. I haven’t gotten a Thanksgiving dinner in two years,” he says.

  “Why not?” I ask.

  “Family stuff,” he answers with a shrug.

  We pull up to a stoplight, and Pax does the rearview mirror thing again. I swear I can almost read his dirty thoughts, he’s looking so hard at me, and I can’t pretend like I don’t like it. Alex elbows me and waggles his eyebrows and then makes a crude gesture with his hand and his mouth that I think is supposed to symbolize a blowjob.

  My eyes widen, and I dart a quick glance toward Theo, who luckily doesn’t seem to be paying attention.

  Seph greets us enthusiastically when we arrive, hugging each of us and telling us about how she’s been slaving over a hot stove all day. Like last time, she seems to be dressed on theme like a fifties housewife, complete with a frilly apron.

  “Come in, come in.” She ushers us inside. “I’ll show you guys where to put the dishes you brought. Elijah, do you want to go to the kitchen to let Bishop and Hudson know everyone’s here now. They said they were getting drinks, but they’ve been gone for ages, so I think they were just avoiding me giving them any jobs to do.”

  “Sure.”

  I walk into the kitchen and stop in my tracks at the sight of Bishop pressed up against the refrigerator by Hudson, who seems to be doing his best to devour Bishop’s face. Their hands all over each other, soft sounds of pleasure coming from both of them. To my horror, my cock starts to get hard. I’ve never been a fan of porn, not finding much appeal in watching other people get sexy together, but something about watching the two of them is definitely doing it for me. Maybe the obvious passion between them? It’s not mechanical; it’s pure heat.

  “What do we have here?” Pax says with amusement from behind me, and Hudson and Bishop ricochet apart like charged electrons.

  “Shut the fuck up, dude,” Hudson says, wiping his hand over his mouth. Bishop blushes and dips his head but doesn’t say anything.

  “I wasn’t going to say anything,” Pax says, holding his hands up and fighting a smile.

  “Good, don’t.” Hudson glares at him.

  “Wine, anyone?” Bishop asks, clearly deciding to go with the pretend like nothing happened approach.

  “I’ll have a small glass,” I agree, not because I want any but because I want to help him shift the focus off the kiss we just walked in on.

  “What’s taking you guys so long?” Seph calls.

  “We’re coming,” Hudson calls back, shooting us one last warning glare before skirting around us and walking out of the kitchen.

  As soon as he’s gone, Bishop’s shoulders sag.

  “Sorry about that,” I say quietly, taking the glass he offers me.

  “It’s fine. It’s better that we were interrupted anyway.” He pours another glass and passes it to Pax and then starts on a third, presumably for himself. “I tell myself over and over things will never be different with Hudson, but then the next time he makes a move, I fall for it all over again. It’s stupid.”

  “That doesn’t sound stupid,” I assure him, feeling awkward about the level of intimacy in this conversation, but trying my best not to show it. Should I reach out and pat his shoulder or something? He just revealed something deeply personal. That means I should do the same so he feels like we’re on the same level, right? I glance over at Pax for guidance, and he just looks pissed.

  “If he’s jerking you around, I’ll have a talk with him, tell him to stop being a dick if you want,” he offers.

  “Oh god, no.” Bishop shakes his head quickly. “It’s fine. I’ve known him my whole life; I can handle him. Thank you though.”

  “Anytime,” Pax assures him. “Seriously, say the word and I’ll take care of it.”

  “Thanks, we should get out there before Seph sends in a search party.”

  The dining room table looks like a centerfold from Martha Stewart, and the food smells mouthwatering.

  We all take our seats with Seph at the head of the table.

  “I want to thank you all for coming. I’m thankful for great friends both new and old,” she glances at each of us. “And I hope you all enjoy dinner.”

  A chorus of thank yous goes around the table, and we all dig in.

  Pax

  “Oh my god, I’m never going to eat again,” I groan, leaning back in my chair to make room for my now bloated stomach.

  “Everything was so good, Seph,” Theo says, and everyone murmurs in agreement.

  “We should all go around the table and say what we’re thankful for,” Seph suggests and is met with groans. “Shut up, I made dinner; now you all have to do what I say.”

  “I knew food this good had to be a trap,” Hudson complains.

  “Hush, Bishop, you start.”

  Bishop gives a generic response about being thankful for friends and his health. Nothing real. Nothing like what he was saying in the kitchen. The pain in his eyes earlier hit me square in the chest and made me wonder just how well I know my friends. I always suspected there was something between the two of them, but it’s clearly infinitely more complicated than I ever guessed.

  Hudson’s answer is just as generic, and then it’s my turn. Without my permission, my eyes dart across the table toward Elijah, and my stomach flutters. I want to say that I’m thankful for the way he’s reintroduced me to my inner nerd, that I’m thankful for all the firsts he’s trusted me with so far and any that might be yet to come, that I’m thankful for whatever time we have together no matter how it will end. I can’t say any of that, so instead I paste on a cocky smile.

  “I’m thankful for blowjobs.”

  “Oh, that’s a good one,” Hudson says. “I’m changing my answer. Fuck friends, I’m thankful for blowjobs too.”

  Everyone laughs, but Elijah’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. We finish going around the table, and I barely bother to listen to anyone else’s except for Elijah’s, which is short and generic too.

  “I’m going to use the bathroom,” Elijah says once we’re done with giving thanks. I watch him as he walks out of the room.

  “I need another drink,” I announce, getting up quickly and going after him.

  I catch him at the end of the hallway, just outside the bathroom.

  “Einstein,” I say in nearly a whisper. He glances over his shoulder, surprise in his eyes when he sees me. Grabbing his arm, I drag him into the bathroom and kick the door closed behind us.

  Pushing him up against the sink, I thread my fingers through the thick curls of his hair and kiss him. There’s nothing but lips and tongue and scorching passion as our mouths meet, my cock growing hard so fast it nearly makes me dizzy. He moans quietly into my mouth, the sound vibrating against my tongue and making me even harder.

  “What was that for?” he asks breathlessly, reaching up to fix his glasses once I manage to tear my mouth away from his.

  “I’m thankful for you,” I confess. “I needed you to know.”

  His eyes widen, and he swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “You are?”

  “Yeah, Nerdlet, I am.”

  “I’m um…I’m thankful too. For you, I mean.”

  I smile and press another lingering kiss to his puffy lips.

  “I’ll see you back out there.” I wink at him and slip out of the bathroom to head back to the group.

  “Where’s your drink?” Alex asks when I return to the dining room.

  “Hmm?”

  “Your drink,” he says again. “You said you were going to get a drink.” The question seems innocent enough, but there’s a spark of mischief in his eye that tells me it’s anything but.

  “Oh, right, I forgot it.”

  “You went to the kitchen for a drin
k and then forgot the drink?” he presses.

  “Yup,” I say curtly, turning on my heel and going to the kitchen.

  This time when I head back into the dining room, Elijah is there again, helping clear the table with all my friends. He looks relaxed and at home in a way I wouldn’t have thought was possible months ago when we first started hanging out. He looks up and smiles at me, my chest filling with that same warmth I felt at the observatory a few weeks ago. Something’s happening between us, and I have a feeling it’s a hell of a lot more than I bargained for, but I’m nowhere near ready to acknowledge it. As soon as I examine these feelings and give them a name, everything else will fall apart.

  Chapter 23

  Elijah

  “Plans with your man this weekend?” Alex asks as we leave our last class for the day. It’s been a week since Thanksgiving, and it’s been weird ever since Theo went home. He was only here five days, but it made everything about California feel different, more like home.

  “He’s not really mine,” I argue, as much as a reminder to myself as to him. “But he has plans with his other friends this weekend, so I don’t have anything going on.”

  As soon as I say it, I wish I’d lied and told him I’ve got something fabulous planned. There’s no way I can handle another party, especially without Pax there to keep me from freaking out.

  “Oh my god, this is perfect. You have to come with me to speed dating tonight.”

  “Speed dating?” I repeat skeptically. “I didn’t even know speed dating was still a thing.”

  “You’d be surprised. I think people like that it’s like retro,” he explains. “And I clean up at these things. Nerds are very in right now. Hipsters feel like geniuses when they fuck a rocket scientist.”

  “That’s great, but…um…I’m not sure speed dating is really for me. I mean, Pax and I aren’t serious, but we did say we wouldn’t be with anyone else, and even if we hadn’t, I don’t really want anyone else,” I ramble, cutting myself off by biting my bottom lip once I’m sure I’ve gotten my point across.

  “You don’t have to take anyone home. It’s fun to talk and flirt, and there are no expectations at all, so it’s pretty low-key.”

  “I don’t know,” I say again, grappling for a way to tell him it’s a hard no.

  “Come on, it’ll be so much fun. Please, please, please.”

  I guess it couldn’t hurt, if there really aren’t any expectations. I hope a bunch of guys are ready to be disappointed by the most socially awkward speed date they’ve ever been on.

  “Fine,” I sigh.

  “Yay, oh my god, this is going to be amazing.”

  “What do I wear?” I ask, looking down at my usual attire. Pax always seems to like it, but that’s no guarantee anyone else will.

  “You look perfect just like this,” he assures me. “But why don’t you come over to my place and help me get ready? I’m just a few blocks away so we can walk if you want.”

  “Sure,” I agree, letting him loop his arm through mine and guide me in the direction of his place.

  His apartment is a lot like mine—tiny, crowded with furniture, textbooks and papers everywhere. But he seems to have a flair for decorating I absolutely do not possess. There are paintings on the walls and little decorative pillows on the couch, as well as other little knick-knacks on every surface. It’s nice.

  “Have a seat, I’ll model a few things for you, and you can help me decide.” He waves at the bed, and my skin heats at the memory of Pax watching me get changed.

  “I don’t really know anything about fashion,” I warn him. “Which is why I wear pretty much the same thing every day.”

  “You look hot as fuck in your blazers and jeans.”

  “I do?” I look down at myself again, trying to see my clothes in a different light and failing.

  “Hell yeah. Why do you think you’ve got that man so sprung on you?” He flings open his dresser and starts pulling stuff out.

  “So what?” I ask.

  “Sprung,” he repeats. “Infatuated, enamored, beguiled, besotted, head over heels, my friend.”

  I dip my head to hide a smile, warmth spreading over me at his assessment, even if I know he’s wrong.

  “It’s not like that,” I argue reluctantly. “We’re just…casual.”

  “It’s always casual…until it’s not,” he says knowingly as he strips his shirt over his head and reaches for a new one to put on.

  “What do you mean?” I ask, nerves and excitement fluttering inside me.

  “Okay, so sometimes I get bored of only ever reading academic textbooks. I like to relax by reading romance. No judging.” He shoots me a warning glare, and I hold my hands in defense.

  “I wasn’t judging. I’ve never read any romance, but it’s cool if you like to.”

  “It’s amazing; you should try it,” he declares. “But anyway, they all start with the main characters being all this amazing, mind-blowing sex doesn’t mean anything, and by the end of the book they’re all schmoopy and in love.”

  “I’m not sure real life works like that,” I point out reluctantly.

  “You never know.”

  “Something tells me that even quantum mechanics theory would have a hard time explaining an eventuality where Paxton falls in love with me.” I let out a self-deprecating laugh, my chest feeling a little heavy.

  “Well, I’m going to hold out for your Happily Ever After anyway,” he decides with a shrug, holding his arms wide so I can take in the first option of his attire. Then, he strips it over his head and reaches for another.

  “Why?” I ask.

  “Why what?”

  “Why are you holding out hope for me?”

  “Because we’re friends, and that’s what friends do,” he explains, donning another shirt.

  “Oh.” I would say more, but a lump of emotion forms in my throat, so I leave it at that and focus on helping him decide on what to wear, because I’m pretty sure that’s what friends do.

  Pax

  A Friday night without Elijah feels wrong. And the fact that it feels wrong is making me more than a little uncomfortable. I pull my phone out to check for any missed messages from him and find none. Does that mean he has something better to do tonight, or is he being thoughtful and leaving me to have time with my friends?

  Half the bar is sectioned off for some kind of speed dating event tonight, which means it feels even more crowded than it really is. And loud. And I’m fucking old apparently.

  “Since when is speed dating even still a thing?” I grumble, taking a sip from my drink as someone bumps into my from behind.

  “It’s gotten pretty popular again, actually. I think a lot of people are sick of online dating,” Bishop says. “You’d be surprised how many people can show up to an event.”

  “Hold on, it sounds like you’ve been to one,” Hudson says, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at Bishop, who shrugs.

  “Once or twice.”

  “Once or twice?” he repeats. “What to find a boyfriend or something?”

  Bishop’s face remains impassive, but the slightest twitch of his cheek gives him away. Not that Hudson sees it, playing right into his hands instead.

  “Why not? I’m single.”

  “Yeah, great,” Hudson growls, slamming his empty glass down on the table and going to get another one.

  “Not sure if making him jealous on purpose is the best strategy,” I advise Bishop once Hudson is gone.

  “Agreed,” Seph says.

  “I’m not trying to make him jealous. He has nothing to be jealous of. We’re friends; I can date who I want. It’s not like he hasn’t slept with nearly every gay man in the city.”

  “You could talk to him about how you feel,” Seph suggests.

  “There’s nothing to talk about. Leave it alone.”

  Hudson returns, and I pull out my phone to check it again.

  “Stop looking at your phone.” Hudson snatches my phone out of my hand and shoves it in
to his pocket.

  “Hey,” I protest.

  “Nope, you’re done.”

  “I was just checking—”

  “You were looking for an excuse to ditch us early and go crawl into the bed of your favorite new toy.”

  I bristle, my jaw clenching. “He’s not a toy,” I grind out between my teeth.

  “Wait, is he your boyfriend?” Bishop asks excitedly.

  “No, he’s not my boyfriend.”

  “That’s good, because he’s on a speed date right now,” Seph says.

  “What?” I whip my head around, and sure enough, on the other side of the partition, seated at one of the many tables with some big, beefy man across from him, is my little Nerdlet. And he’s blushing. I clench my jaw so hard I nearly break a tooth. That blush is mine; it’s not for some random fucking asshole in a bar.

  I grunt, putting my drink down with more force than intended, the contents sloshing up over the sides and spilling onto the table.

  “What’s the big deal? He’s not your boyfriend,” Hudson says with amusement.

  “Shut the fuck up, asshole.”

  The guy who’s with Elijah reaches across the table and brushes his fingers over the back of Elijah’s hand.

  “Oh, hell no.” I make a move to storm over there and rip the dude to fucking shreds, but Bishop’s hand on my shoulder stops me.

  “You can’t go over there; you’ll look like a possessive asshole.”

  “But—”

  “I know,” he says, and the sympathy in his eyes lets me know he really does know how I’m feeling. “But if he’s really not your boyfriend, it’s only going to make things weird.”

  A bell sounds, and the dude gets up from the table, the tension in my body easing a fraction. But the man who takes his seat doesn’t seem to be any better. If anything, he’s worse because I can tell from a glance that he’s exactly Elijah’s type. My Nerdlet blushes again, pushing his glasses up his nose as he awkwardly holds his hand out to introduce himself to his date. A small smile forms on my lips in spite of myself. Jesus, how can he be so fucking cute?