by Max Monroe
Soon, all of this could change, though…
After months of going through a barrage of tests, medical exams and physicals, psychological assessments, phone conferences, and in-person interviews, I’ve officially reached the final candidate round for NASA’s Astronaut Selection Program.
It’s between me and nineteen other men and women.
And no one knows exactly how many will be chosen.
“So, Luke, any NASA updates?” Thatch asks, taking a drink from his shiny, gold-embossed glass filled with expensive bourbon.
Can he read my fucking mind?
“Nope,” I answer with a slight shake of my head. “Not yet.”
“How many interviews have you had in Houston?” Kline asks.
“Two.”
“The final round,” Trevor chimes in helpfully and pops a piece of complimentary bread into his mouth. “You’re going to hear from them soon, my man. You’re a shoo-in.”
“I don’t know about that.” I shrug. “The competition is pretty steep. I’m up against guys with ten years of experience flying fighter jets for the navy.”
Trevor just grins at me. “Yeah, but you have a master’s in engineering from Columbia, thousands upon thousands of flight hours under your belt, your dad was pretty well-known within NASA before he died, and you’re in better shape than Rambo. I’d bet my next paycheck you’ll be living in Houston by early next year.”
“Which bookie should I sign the check over to?” Thatch teases helpfully. Trevor laughs.
“I hope you’re right, dude.” I shrug again and take a sip of my beer.
Truthfully, I really fucking hope he’s right. This is what I’ve been working for since I was eighteen. This is why I get up at the crack of fucking dawn every morning to run six miles around the city and weight train. Everything I do, everything I’ve accomplished, has been solely focused on getting into NASA’s Astronaut Candidate training program.
This is the dream. The one my father and I started to talk about when I was seven, just two years before he and my mom died in a head-on collision with a drunk driver on their way home from a work party at Johnson Space Center in Houston.
I like to think he’d be really proud of me and how close I’ve managed to get to that dream—our dream. God, I can still remember being six years old and him sneaking me into the famous NASA control room. I was mesmerized. Hooked. Determined.
“Is now the time I should disclose that I’m close friends with someone on the board?” Milo Ives offers with a little smirk on his lips, pulling me from my trip down memory lane.
It takes a minute for his words to sink in, but when they do, I furrow my brow. “Wait… Do you mean NASA’s Candidate Selection Board?”
“Yep.” He nods. “You know, the board that has the final say in who gets into the program.”
“Milo, you motherfluffer,” Thatch says through a chuckle. “How did I not know this?”
It’s Milo’s turn to laugh. “Considering NASA is one of my company’s contracts and we’ve just recently revamped all their security servers, I think you should have assumed I probably knew a few people on the inside.”
“So, what are you saying exactly?” I ask, and I kind of hate that hope is already blooming in my chest.
“I’m saying that you have every reason to be optimistic.”
“Yeah?” My phone vibrates in my jacket pocket, and I’m half tempted to pull it out and check it. But I ignore the urge and focus on the important conversation at hand.
“Oh, c’mon, Ives!” Cap chimes in and slams his hand onto the table. “Why are you beating around the fucking bush with this shit? Just spit it out.”
Quincy laughs. “You are slow-rolling him a bit, Ives.”
Milo just rolls his eyes. “Because we’re talking about NASA, and everything in NASA is fucking classified.”
“You suck, dude,” Thatch retorts. “You suck big donkey dick right now.”
“I second that,” Cap agrees. “And this is exactly why we need to bring book club back. No doubt, we’d get Ives to crack under pressure if we were still having our regular meetings.”
“Fluffing right!” Thatch exclaims, but Wes is quick to cut them both off.
“No!” he shouts. “No more fucking book club.”
“Book club?” Trevor asks and glances around the table in confusion. “What are you guys talking about?”
“Something that never needs to be brought up again,” Wes retorts.
“We’re talking about a book club that was started by Cap for the sole purpose of getting himself laid,” Trent Turner explains through an amused laugh.
Cap waggles his brows. “It worked, by the way.”
“Yeah,” Kline Brooks chimes in with a knowing smile. “It worked so well that you ended up marrying her.”
“So, maybe I’m a little slow on the uptake, but what on earth does a book club have to do with getting laid?” I can’t stop myself from asking, and Theo Cruz bursts into laughter.
“Cap had us reading romance novels so he could use the ideas from the books to win over his now-wife.”
“My gorgeous Ruby,” Cap adds with a soft smile. “The best fucking woman on the planet.”
“Wait…you guys are being serious?” Trev questions, a smile already making itself known on his face. “This isn’t a joke?”
“No,” Wes grumbles. “And let the record show, it was the worst experience of my life.”
“You’re so full of shit,” Thatch retorts. “You loved it.”
Wes rolls his eyes. “I loved our poker nights. Not that fucking book club.”
“Speaking of poker nights,” Thatch comments and looks pointedly at Kline. “You know you’re not allowed to cancel on poker night. Ever. Yet you have for the past two weeks. What’s the story, Klinehole?”
“Oh, I don’t know. My job. My wife. My girls. You know, important life shit.”
“Pfft. Yeah, right, Special K. Pretty sure you were just getting tired of ole Thatcher here handing your ass to you every week.”
“Or maybe he was getting tired of hearing ole Thatcher talk in third person like an idiot,” Harrison suggests, and Thatch scratches the side of his face with his middle finger.
“Shut up, Harry. I think we all know you wouldn’t have been able to win the heart of the Raquel Weaver without the knowledge you gained from book club.”
“It still boggles my mind that he’s married to her,” Cap mutters. “Like, of all the fucking people in the world, one of Hollywood’s most famous actresses chose this schmuck.”
“What can I say? I got real fucking lucky.” Harrison just shrugs, laughs, and takes a sip from his bourbon.
When my phone vibrates in my suit pocket again and again and again, I find myself tuning out the conversation and pulling out my phone to find several more texts from Ava.
The first message? Check out these guys and tell me what you think of them. They seem nice, right?
Six screenshots of TapNext profiles of guys with names like Brian and Frank and Abe follow.
Frankie boy is shirtless in his profile pic, Abe’s bio talks about how much he loves his cat, and Brian, well, fuck…his goddamn collar is popped, and he spends three paragraphs talking about his boat. Is she serious when she says she thinks they look nice?
Me: Do you really want to date a guy named Brian?
She responds right away.
Ava: What’s wrong with the name Brian?
Me: It’s a boring name, Ace. Not to mention, all the Brians I’ve ever known have been the friend in the group that no one really wants to be friends with. There’s got to be some sort of reason for that. Plus, he’s crazy about boats, and you won’t even go in the water at your parents’ lake house.
Ava: You know that’s because I don’t like to feel the weird, squishy ground between my toes when I’m in the water. Boats are a totally different story.
Ha. She’s right, I guess. I type another message quickly.
Me: You’re r
ight. The problem with boats is motion sickness.
She gets motion sickness if she even glances at her phone on the subway.
Ava: It doesn’t matter. I’ve already scheduled a date with Brian. Tomorrow.
I sigh. Fucking Brian the Boat-Lover. I don’t even have to meet the guy to know Ava is too good for him.
“Everything okay, bud?” Thatch asks, and I glance up to find everyone at the table staring at me.
“Yeah.” I swallow, tucking my phone into my pocket and screwing my face back into my best professional smile.
“You sure?” His smirk quirks up the corners of his mouth. “Because that was a lot of sighs for one man to release in the span of two minutes.”
“It’s nothing, really,” I assure everyone. Ava and her antics are nothing new in my life.
“Luke, my man, I’ve seen that look a hundred times before, and it almost always revolves around lady troubles. Possibly a little lovers’ quarrel?”
I laugh outright. “It’s nothing like that. Just some questionable decisions by my best friend Ava.”
“His best friend who might as well be his girlfriend,” Trevor adds, and I roll my eyes.
“Come on, man, not this song again. Ava and I have been friends since college. Just friends. That’s it. Just like you and me.”
“Uh-huh. Sure. You and Ava are not friends like you and I are friends, bro.” Trev grins. “I’ve watched you walk away from at least a hundred hot-as-hell women over the course of our friendship, and every time, it was because you were too worried about Ava.”
I wish I could refute his claim, but honestly, there have been a lot of women over the years I’ve ignored because I was preoccupied with something Ava-related. But that’s just what being a good friend is. Right?
Cap tilts his head to the side. “So, let me get this straight. You’re having best friend problems…” He pauses and searches my eyes. “And your best friend is a girl named Ava?”
“Yeah?” I respond, perplexity apparent in my voice. “And?”
Theo smirks over his glass of whiskey. “Well, in my experience, the male-female friendship dynamic rarely, if ever, stays just friends. It almost always leads to more.”
Cap snorts. “Yeah, especially when you’re just friends with someone’s fucking little sister.”
“What?” Trev questions, and Theo lets out a half sigh, half chuckle.
“Cap is referring to the fact that I married his sister.”
“My baby fucking sister,” Cap interjects.
“Jesus, you guys have quite the stories, you know that?” Trev retorts on a laugh. “Every time we hang out with you, I find out all sorts of new, interesting shit.”
“When it comes to these bastards, I have stories for days, son.” Thatch winks. “But we’ll have to save those for another time. You know, when we’re not so focused on trying to figure out why Luke is pretending he’s not in love with his best friend Ava.”
“Oh, come on!” A wolflike, incredulous laugh jumps from my lungs. “I’m not in love with Ava. It’s not like that with us. Like I said, we’ve been friends since college. Damn near fifteen years of just friendship.”
“Oh, okay. That explains everything.” Thatch nods, but I can tell he’s still not convinced.
“Trust me on this. Ava and I are just friends.”
“Okay.” Cap shrugs it off. “So, if you’re just friends with her, what has your panties in a bunch right now?”
“My panties aren’t in a bunch. Ava has officially entered the wild world of dating in the TapNext realm, and I can tell it’s heading for disaster. I’m preparing to clean up the mess. That’s all.”
“Did you hear that, Kline?” Wes responds in amusement. “His best friend is using your little dating app.”
Kline smirks, and I cringe. Shit. I don’t know why I forgot that TapNext was his company’s app, but I did. I hope he doesn’t take too much offense and, you know, fire me.
Thatch rubs his hands together with a smile, and Kline shrugs. Thankfully, it seems he doesn’t care about my less-than-flattering take on his life’s work. He’s maybe a little annoyed that he’s going to have to listen to Thatch and Wes volley back and forth about it, but that’s it. “What’s the situation?” Thatch questions. “Drug dealer? Pedophile? Who’s she matching with, dude?”
Kline shakes his head and takes a swig of his drink before muttering, “We background check, T. Don’t be ridiculous with this shit.”
Thatch laughs and turns back to me. “So, what is it? Why is this going to be a disaster?”
“She’s going on a date with some guy named Brian. His profile is full of popped-collar pictures and waxing poetic about his boat.”
Trent snorts. “Popped collars? Have we gone back in time fifteen years?”
“Yeah,” I huff out. “It’s like reliving all her douchebag college boyfriends all over again.”
All the guys share a noticeable look, so much so that I have to ask, “What? What is it?”
I mean, I know the whole guy-girl friendship thing isn’t exactly the norm, but that’s all Ava and I are. Just friends. We have been for years.
Kline is the only one to answer. “It’s nothing, really. You don’t have to worry, though. Dating app or not, I have a feeling everything with your friend Ava will work out just fine.”
November 3rd
Ava
At a little after seven, I step through the rustic, wooden doors of Emilio’s, a popular Italian restaurant located in the center of Little Italy. The establishment is packed to the gills, and I search around the medium-sized, softly lit space in search of my first official TapNext date—Brian Grove.
Otherwise known as Boat-Lover Brian to my best friend Luke.
I’m not sure why he’s making such a big deal out of this guy having a boat. Hobbies are a good thing. It shows he has something to work toward. An interest to occupy his time.
My stomach twists as I rub my fingers together—an old habit I started as a kid when my nerves are running wild—and search the restaurant for my date. To be honest, I know he has blondish hair and a clean-shaven face, but the rest of the details of his face are…foggy.
I try to pull up the app to take another look at him just to refresh my memory, but my phone refuses to load it for some reason. Something about the construction of the building must be jamming the data signal or something because my actual cell service seems to be just fine.
I spot a blond-headed man at the bar, but when I look closer, I realize he’s an obvious twenty years older than my date. Or your date is twenty years older than he claims to be…
No. No, that can’t be it. Please. I just need to keep looking.
Another blond head shines in the light from above a table, and my stomach flips over on itself with anxious excitement. I get up on my toes to take a better look.
Shit. Never mind. Unless Brian has a wife and two kids, I highly doubt that’s him.
Maybe I should just text him. See where he is that way. I unlock my phone and open my messages, but before I can start another thread with Brian’s number, a blue dot pops up next to Luke’s name.
Luke: You want to grab some dinner tonight? I just got back from LA and can be changed in five minutes.
Me: I can’t. I’m on a date. Almost.
Luke: Oh shit, that’s right. I forgot that was tonight. Wait, what do you mean, almost?
Me: Well, I’m at the restaurant, but I’m having a hard time locating my date.
Luke: WTF? He’s not there???
Me: No, he’s here. I’m pretty sure anyway. I’m just kind of having a hard time remembering what he looks like.
Luke: What? LOL. You can’t remember what your date looks like, Ace?
Me: Shut up. I have a general sense, but there are a lot of people here! It’s harder than you think. I was just about to text him, but I’m not sure I want him to know I’m having this hard of a time if it turns out he’s, like, right next to me or something.
L
uke: Just look up his profile.
Me: I tried, but I’m not getting enough data service in here. Do you think…maybe you could sign in to my account and look him up for me?
Luke: Jesus.
Me: Does that mean yes?
Luke: Fine. Hold please.
Luke: Okay, I’m in.
Me: WHAT? HOW? I didn’t tell you my sign-in info yet.
Luke: LOL Ava, I’ve known you for nearly half of my life at this point. I guessed your sign-in info. Btw, you need a stronger password.
Me: LUKE
Luke: Ok, Boat-Lover Brian’s characteristics… Ruggedly douchey. Pompously strong jaw. The nose of a rhino.
Me: You’re ridiculous. Just send me a picture!
It takes a minute, but finally, Luke sends the picture of Brian through so I can scrutinize it.
His hair is far darker than I thought, and his slightly scruffy jaw proves he’s not exactly clean-shaven, but he’s still good-looking in a boy-next-door kind of way. I’m not sure how it should make me feel that he’s not at all what I thought he looked like, but I decide not to let it bother me.
Thankfully, when I give the room another once-over, I spot the real Brian Grove in the far back corner, sitting at a table with a white cloth and tealight candles flickering in the center.
He smiles and rises from his chair as I make my way toward him, evidently recognizing me immediately.
Yikes.
“Ava, right?” he asks, and I nod.
“You must be Brian.”
“I am. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” His smile grows, and when he leans a little too close to my face, my heart starts to pound erratically.