The dog must have been trained at some point in her life, either that or she’s too embarrassed to move, because she stays right where Mark wants her, not even being distracted by the bunnies or the flashing of the camera lights.
For the next ten minutes, I’m Mark’s puppet. Move here, move there. Every time I’m repositioned, I try to scan the area for Rebecca, but now that the bright lights are on and facing me, I can’t see much.
My last pose is sitting on the bottom edge of one of the rocket boosters, holding a bunny on my shoulder while the mutt sprawls out over my lap. I’m pretty sure it’s the winning pose because Mark is beaming and even the Barbies stop ogling my abs long enough to look impressed with the set-up.
“The Christmas lights are really illuminating the interior of the rocket,” Amanda calls out.
I want to turn around and see what they’re seeing, but once again, I don’t want to screw up the shot. Especially as it seems I’m almost done.
And once I’m done, I can see Becca.
Eleven
Acute Avoidance
Rebecca
I’m not too proud of myself right now.
I’m hiding out by the exit, right behind the bright, overhead lights that Mark set up. I can see Ryan, but he can’t see me. Not unless he wants to be blinded by high wattage.
I didn’t intend to hide out. All day I’ve been looking forward to seeing him. All week I’ve missed him.
Then Bodie makes a joke about curfew and I overhear two photography students talk about how much they want to play with Ryan’s firehose, and I’m relegated to a wallflower on the very photoshoot I put together.
It doesn’t help that another one of Mark’s students slathered Ryan down in oil, or that Ryan and oil girl shared a laugh over something, or that he put his hand on her shoulder and smiled before she walked away.
“Dr. Sato, there you are.” Millie, the shelter manager comes over, holding one of the bunnies. “I didn’t see you. Have you been here long?”
“I didn’t want to get in the way.” I ignore her question, not wanting to sound like a pervy loser, watching from a distance.
“Does Ryan know you’re here? He’s been asking for you.”
“He has?”
She frowns. “Of course. The first thing he asked when he arrived was where you were. He must have asked ten times since then.”
“That’s a wrap!” Mark shouts, his voice echoing off the metal walls.
I feel like an ass as I watch Ryan’s shoulders deflate. I’ve been so concerned with how I felt, I didn’t think about how much work it was for him to pose so long, or if he was uncomfortable. After all, I’m the one who got him into this.
The students and other volunteers surround Ryan, gathering lights and props and ushering the cute rescue pup away from the rocket.
“Thanks, Millie.” I go up on my tiptoes, trying to see Ryan over everyone’s heads. “As soon as they’re done clearing the area, I’ll let Ryan know I’m here.”
“Before you do, can you hold Thumper for a minute? I need to run to the lady’s room.” She holds the plump gray bunny out, the animal’s long back feet dangling.
“Sure.” I grab her, holding her nose to mine. “Thumper, huh?” Her nose twitches against mine, tickling it.
“Dr. Sato,” I turn to see Mark striding my way. “Good to see you.”
I tuck Thumper under one arm and hold out my other. “Nice to see you too, Mark. Everything looked great.”
“Not hard to do when you’ve got a good-looking model and a great location.” He pulls out a card from his back pocket. “Could you give this to Ryan? Things ran a little late and I need to pick my husband up from the airport. But don’t worry, my students will pack up the equipment, make sure everything is as it was before we arrived.”
I take the offered card. “Okay.” It’s a license. Ryan’s license.
I must look confused, because Mark taps the plastic in my hands. “Needed to get his stats for the calendar. Height, age, all that stuff.”
“Oh. Yeah. That makes sense.” But what isn’t making sense are the numbers on the card. I tilt it one way, then another, thinking the lights are playing tricks on my eyes.
“Thanks. I’ll send you the proofs later tonight. Early morning at the latest.”
“Okay.” But I don’t look up, don’t wave at him or even acknowledge the apology someone throws my way when they jostle me on the way out the door. My eyes are transfixed on the government issued identification card in front of me.
A card that states Ryan is twenty-eight years old.
I’m not sure how long I’ve been sitting in my car, stroking Thumper’s fur like an evil villain plotting the world’s demise, but long enough to become so entranced in my thoughts that I nearly throw Thumper through the sunroof when Millie taps on my window. “Jesus!”
When it finally registers that I will not, in fact, be murdered, and that Millie is just trying to get my attention, I roll down the window.
“Sorry, Dr. Sato. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“No, no.” My heartbeat slowly regulating. “My fault. I zoned out.”
“I was just wondering if you’re trying to take Thumper home with you?”
“Hmm?” I look down at the bunny in my lap. “Oh, no. Sorry, I was just cuddling the little girl.” I roll up my window and get out of the car. “Here you go, Millie. Sorry about that.”
“No problem, hon.” She takes Thumper. “They’re almost done cleaning up. Ryan’s still there.”
“Ah, yes. I better go in then.”
Heading over to the van where the other shelter volunteers are, she calls out, “Night, dear,” over her shoulder.
I guess there’s nothing left but to go inside. Ask Ryan about his license and… well, I don’t know what, but I’ll figure it out. It isn’t the best plan, but it’s something.
I push the heavy metal door open and find Ryan standing close to the oil girl. Both their phones out.
Ryan looks over her shoulder to her phone. “There, now you have my number.”
His phone rings.
She smiles up at him. “Now you have mine.”
“Great. Give me a call and we’ll get together.”
She tucks her long hair behind her ear. “I’d like that.”
The door slams shut behind me, making Ryan look my way.
“Doc.” His smile is huge. “You made it!”
Doc. Not Becca. Not even Rebecca. I’m not sure why that seems like a big deal to me all of a sudden. Lots of people call me Doc. But in this moment, it seems like he’s distancing himself from me in front of this other, interested, younger woman.
“Yea—” I clear my throat. “Yes. I’ve been here the whole shoot.”
He frowns. “Why didn’t you say hi, or let me know you were here?”
“I didn’t want to interrupt.”
His eyes narrow, like he’s starting to pick up on the fact that I haven’t moved closer. That my voice is flat. That I’m a few seconds away from crying. Over what, I’m not sure. Being lied to? Being reminded why he and I were a bad idea from the start? Standing in front of the person I thought wanted a serious relationship, only to find out he’s twenty-fucking-eight years old.
“Hey. Are you okay?”
Probably sensing the tension, the oil girl steps back. “Okay, then. I’ll catch up with you later, Ryan. Thanks again.” Then she’s gone, and it’s just Ryan and me, the tourist hours long over.
“She seems nice.” I wince at how my words make me sound that much more pathetic.
“Yeah. Her name’s Amanda. She’s—”
“Mark gave me this to give to you.” I fling his license and watch it sail between us, hitting him in his chest, then falling to the ground.
Brow pinched, he squats down and picks it up. “My license?”
“They got what they needed from it. Height, eye color, age.”
He stills. “Becca, I was going to tell—”
“Save i
t.” My hands are shaking. They never used to shake. That’s what made a lot of my professors try and push me into being a surgeon. Steady hands. Being able to remain calm during high pressure situations. I could perform heart surgery during a tornado and remain unaffected.
And yet this man, this boy, has reduced me to tears and jitters.
Fuck this. I turn to leave.
“Becca, please, just let me explain.”
“It’s Rebecca.” My voice strengthens as I let my anger fill me up. “No. Actually, it’s Dr. Sato to you.”
“What?” The incredulity in his voice just makes me madder.
“Thank you for volunteering your time for the Space City Shelter calendar.” My professional mask slips on like a well-worn glove. “The shelter and I appreciate all that you’ve done.”
“Why are you talking like that?”
“Please thank the rest of the station for me.” I stalk back toward the door, walking as fast as I can, but refusing to run.
“Becca, please wait.” His boots fall heavy on the cement behind me. I make it outside and halfway to my car before his large hands engulf my shoulders, spinning me around. “I know I messed up. I know I lied. But I was afraid you wouldn’t give me a chance if you knew. You were so freaked out by me being younger, I thought if I took that out of the equation we could move forward without any distractions.”
“Distractions like Chloe? Like Amanda?”
His head snaps back like I slapped him. “What are you talking about?”
God, I hate myself right now. I sound desperate, hurt, and so much like my mother. I feel sick.
“Never mind.” I shake off his hand and stride toward my car again, but the big oaf just follows me.
Ryan
“What the hell is happening?”
I get that I misled her. Okay, okay, let’s call a spade a spade— I lied. But I don’t understand this reaction. Why is she so willing to end what we’ve started? All over a few years.
I know women have more pressure put on them due to aging and looking a certain way. Ana would blame the patriarchy, but Becca doesn’t seem the type. She isn’t vain, or self-conscious about her body. Plus, she doesn’t even look that much older than me.
I catch up and lean on her car door, aware it’s kind of a dick move. But maybe if I can calm her down, we can talk through this.
“Becca.”
She crosses her arms, her eyes boring into my chest. Probably imagining burning a hole through it.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you how old I was. I honestly didn’t think it was that big a deal.”
She snorts. “If you didn’t think it was a big deal, why lie?”
Fuck. “Okay, you got me there. I guess I didn’t think it was a big deal, and I thought after we got to know each other, you wouldn’t think it was a big deal.”
She arches one brow. I’m turned on and chastised at the same time.
I raise my hands apologetically. “Obviously I was wrong. And I am sorry.”
She pulls her lip under her teeth. And if I’m not mistaken her eyes are tearing up.
“Baby. Please forgive me.” I reach for her.
She steps back. “It’s not just the lie.” Her eyes are shifting everywhere but to mine, her usual steady hands fidgeting.
“What do you mean?” I drop my arms, though it kills me not to touch her right now. “What else is there?”
“Your age, Ryan.” She throws up her hands, like it’s obvious. “You’re too young. I need someone more mature. Someone…” She gestures wildly with her hands, and if it wasn’t for what she’s saying, it’d be funny. “Someone on my level.”
“Your level?” I feel gut punched.
Her head bobs a few times. “Yes. I thought… I thought we were at the same point in our lives, but we’re not. I don’t have time to mess around while you figure out what you want.”
My stomach ignites with a burning anger I’m not used to. I speak slowly, trying to steady my temper. “You think that because I’m younger than you, I don’t know who I am? Or what I want out of life?”
She’s so caught up in herself she doesn’t hear the warning tone in my voice. “You may think you do, but—”
“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” I snap.
She flinches, pulling up short.
“What gives you the right to stand there and tell me how I feel isn’t how I feel? How many clichés and stereotypes are you going to throw in my face?”
“I—”
“So I’m too young to know if I want to commit or not? How old is old enough, huh?”
She doesn’t answer. Her eyes are wide and unblinking.
“I know who I am, Rebecca. And I know what I want.” I run my hand through my hair, then lean back and stare at the stars, trying to collect my thoughts. To calm down.
Neither of us speaks for a moment. The only sound is the distant murmuring of guards at the security check and the soft whoosh of cars on Saturn Drive.
I take a deep breath. “Maybe the problem isn’t my age. Maybe you need to figure out what you really want, ’cause from where I’m standing, the only one stuttering over us is you.”
She shakes her head so hard her ponytail whips back and forth. “That’s not… I didn’t mean…”
“I’m not waiting here for you to figure out how to apologize. Or to filter through that smart mind of yours and figure out what else you want.” I run a hand through my hair again, pretty sure it looks as wild as I feel. “I’m not going to lie. I’m really fucking pissed. And I’m smart enough to know that when I get angry, which by the way, is usually really hard for me to do, I need to cool the fuck down before I say something I’ll regret.”
I dig my keys out of my pocket. “But let me be clear, in case there is any confusion.” I take a step toward her and for once she doesn’t retreat. She seems frozen in place. “I don’t regret a damn thing when it comes to you. Not even the lie about my age. Because that little security blanket I created let you drop those walls you’ve built up so high. It let you get to know me without pigeonholing me in some box. It made you give me a chance. Give us a chance.”
“But…”
“Think back, Becca. Who labeled us and made us exclusive?”
“Well, you, but—”
“That’s right. Me.” I slap my hand to my chest. “I’m the one ready to take the next steps. I’m the one sure of our relationship. The only one second-guessing anything is you.” I step back and away from her car door.
My breathing is heavy, but I force myself to calm down. Not to say anything more. I want her to want me. Which I know is a lyric to some nineties song, but it isn’t any less true.
When she doesn’t say anything, I walk away, each footfall loud and echoing.
I’ve had to run through burning buildings, carrying over forty-five pounds of gear with an adult slung over each shoulder. Even so, my feet have never felt as heavy as they do right now.
Neither has my heart.
Twelve
Overhauling
Rebecca
“What crawled in your vagina and died?”
I choke back a gag reflex. “Jules, you can’t… that’s not even a thing.”
We’re in Building 9, where the full, life-sized International Space Station mock-up is located. And we’re supposed to be concentrating on her exercise schedule for her space flight in January.
I focus my attention back on the hidden treadmill strapped against the wall.
Jules leans against the Tranquility module wall, careful not to touch any switches. “You’re saying that it isn’t plausible that something could crawl up—”
“Enough!” I wave my hand behind me while I start unstrapping the equipment. “I swear you’re going to make me throw up.”
She steps up next to me and takes over. Space is limited in the ISS. Think tiny house living, but more scientific. Everything is made to be broken down and strapped off to the side so there’s more room for astronauts to man
euver between modules.
“If a little death in the vag is enough make you sick, you could never hack it as an astronaut.” Jules’s tone implies that that’s the ultimate insult. Which, I guess for her, it is.
“I don’t want to be an astronaut, Jules, so my gag reflex is just fine as it is.”
She scoffs, using the tethered straight pins to lock the equipment in place. “That’s just crazy talk. Who doesn’t want to be an astronaut?”
A deep voice breaks in. “Me.”
We both push the assembled treadmill down, which will be a lot easier in zero gravity, and turn to see Ian Kincaid standing in the adjoining module, Unity. He waves a manila folder of papers in the air. “I have the new specs for—”
“Why the hell would you not want to be an astronaut?” Jules scowls at the handsome engineer. He gives off a strong Kennedy vibe. Seeing as his father’s a senator, I guess that makes sense.
Ian flashes his teeth at Jules’ outrage, his movie star smile in direct competition to the stark white walls of the ISS. “Not everyone wants to go to space, you know.” He hands me the file.
Jules crosses her arms and huffs. “That’s just stupid.”
Ian shrugs, smile still in place. “Let me know what you think, Doc.” He throws a salute our way, now reminding me of Captain America.
We watch him exit the mock-up, neither of us pretending that we aren’t checking out his ass in his nicely fitted dress slacks.
When he’s out of sight, Jules sighs. “I had well-thought-out plans to hook him up with Jackie. But this blatant lack of ambition is not—”
“Hey.” I push her shoulder. “I don’t want to be an astronaut and I’m plenty ambitious.”
“Huh.” She rolls her eyes. “I guess that’s true.” She flicks some of the switches on the panel next to her, powering up the treadmill for the simulation we’re running. “Still. Everyone knows astronauts are awesome.”
I bite my lip to keep from laughing. Seeing Jules’ pride take a hit shouldn’t be so amusing, but it is. “Yes, Jules. You are awesome.”
Space Age- Houston, Prepare for Launch Page 9