Imperfect Chemistry

by Mary Frame

I awake slowly, coming into awareness in bits and pieces. My leg is asleep. It takes me a few more seconds to come to the realization that my leg is asleep because something heavy is on it. There’s also a slight breeze wafting over my head in a rhythmic pattern.

  I blink my eyes open and all I can see is Jensen’s gray cotton shirt right in front of my face. That’s not a breeze, that’s Jensen breathing. I pull my head back a few inches to try and determine the situation. His face is inches above mine and his eyes are closed. His arm is lying over my midsection and our legs are entangled. How did this happen?

  I attempt to extricate myself, but he mumbles something inarticulate and pulls me even closer. Now we’re pressed against each other and I can feel the proof against my stomach that men really do wake up in the morning aroused against their own volition. Even though part of me is alarmed, other, more unfamiliar sensations course through me. My stomach flips, my breathing comes out faster and I have the unmistakable urge to get even closer and kiss him, morning breath and all.

  No. I take a deep breath and remind myself that I have control over my emotions and body. Nobody controls how I feel except me.

  The thoughts fly away as soon as Jensen’s hands start moving up and down my back. And then even farther down, cupping my backside and pulling me up a little so his morning stubble scrapes against my face, his lips brushing past mine and heading straight to my neck.

  Oh, wow. This is different. His mouth moves down across my neck, to my collarbone and then back up to my ear and down again, nibbling, sucking, kissing, one of those actions is happening at any point, but I’m not really sure on the specifics since my body has suddenly become a haze of sensation.

  Still kissing various parts of my body, he gently moves towards me, forcing me to my back in order to settle on top of me between my thighs. He’s kissing down my collarbone and lower and lower and even though we are both fully clothed, the position is intimate enough that bolts of pleasure course through my legs and I arch against him and squirm so that his erection hits me right there and holy moly nothing has ever felt so—

  Music. Jensen’s phone is going off next to the bed and it’s enough to pull me from the physical spell he’s weaving over me. He removes his lips from my body and stares down at me with heavy lidded eyes and an expression that makes me want to throw his phone against the wall hard enough to stop the noise.

  “Jensen.” Whose breathy voice is that? Surely not mine.

  The music stops momentarily only to start up again immediately.

  Jensen’s groans and his body collapses on top of mine with dead weight for a couple beats before he yanks himself away and leans over the side of the bed to grab his phone.

  “Hello?”

  I take the moment to gather my thoughts and straighten my clothes. My shirt has somehow ridden up on the bottom to the point where my bra is exposed. How did that happen? I sit on the edge of the bed, my back to Jensen, running my fingers through my long hair, making sure it’s not sticking straight up since I slept without a hair tie. Not that I care what I look like. Because I don’t. I never do.

  “Yeah, Mom. I know. There’s no way I can get to the airport today.” He sounds a bit aggravated. “Just don’t worry about me.”

  Jensen sits up with the phone still pressed to his ear and turns in my direction, his eyes roving over me. I stop messing with my hair and slink out of the bed and down the hall to the bathroom. I really have to pee.

  There’s no window. I hit the light switch, but the power is still out. I shut the door, pee in the dark, and when I’m done, open the door to let light in while I wash my hands and attempt to tame my hair.

  When I head back to the living room, Jensen is still on the phone, his back to me. I lean awkwardly against the wall at the end of the hallway. I’m not sure I should go anywhere near the bed. It’s turned into some kind of vortex of hormones. I might get sucked in and never get out.

  “Uh-huh. I love you, too. Bye.” He hangs up, sighs, and then as if just remembering I’m around somewhere, his shoulders tense and he spins around. When he sees me lurking in the hallway, he relaxes.

  “Do you want breakfast?” he asks.

  “More hot dogs?”

  He smiles. “I have a better idea.”

  Fifteen minutes later, we’re bundled up and ready to face the outside world. It stopped snowing and the sun is shining, but it’s not putting off enough warmth to melt much, if any, of the snow.

  I went home to get my winter gear, and when I knock on Jensen’s door again, he opens it quickly and steps out, covered head to toe in a beanie, scarf, gloves, jacket and boots.

  “Where are we going?” I ask.

  He holds up a couple pairs of snowshoes. “We’re going for a walk.”

  Snowshoeing is a lot harder than it looks. For one, you have to step sort of wide and slow and you still sink a little into the snow. There’s a bit more resistance than regular walking. So by the time we make it to the end of our alley, I’m panting and sweating inside all my layers of clothes.

  “Are we there yet?” I manage between breaths.

  Jensen is walking slightly in front of me and he turns and flashes me a brilliant smile. “Isn’t this great?”

  “If you say so.”

  He turns out of the alley and into the street. It’s obvious a snow plow has been through this area. While they successfully cleared the street, they also piled more snow onto the sidewalk, which means we are now muddling through lumpy, hilly snow. I’m watching my feet to make sure I don’t end up on my face or rear end when something hits me on the shoulder.

  I gasp and look up. Jensen’s stopped in front of me, smiling.

  “Did you just throw a snowball at me?” I ask.

  “Yep,” he says, still smiling. “What are you gonna do about it?”

  I shrug. “Nothing.” I know this game. I have older brothers.

  He seems a little disappointed but turns around and we keep moving. It’s nearly impossible to sneak up on someone in snowshoes, so after a minute I stop and say, “Hey, I think my shoe is loose, will you help me?”

  He walks back to where I am, face serious, and bends over to tighten the shoe. And that’s when I shove a handful of snow down the back of his jacket, under his shirt.

  He yelps and too late to realize I’ve miscalculated our positions and his willingness to play in the snow. He’s kneeling in front of me at the perfect level to pick me up, and he uses it to his advantage. He shoves his shoulder into my stomach—not painfully, I am too bundled up to feel more than a slight push—and throws me into a cold pile of snow, landing halfway on top of me.

  I scream and laugh as he tries and fails to get snow under my clothes.

  “How many layers do you have on?” he asks, picking at the small gap at my throat with his thickly gloved fingers.

  “Too many,” I manage to get out, still laughing as his fingers dig into my sides with enough force to penetrate the thick pad of clothing covering my body.

  “Definitely too many,” he says, his voice lower than normal and I wish I could see his eyes, but he’s wearing sunglasses and so am I. I’m glad for them—the sun hitting the snow is brighter than a camera flash that never goes away—but I want to know what he’s thinking.

  After a moment of lying on top of me, he stands up awkwardly since he has to position his snow shoes, then he pulls me up and we continue down the block to the corner convenience store.

  The store is open, but the shelves are nearly bare. We take off the snow shoes before entering, leaving them against the wall outside. Once inside we grab a few packages of white-powdered and chocolate mini donuts, a bag of chips, some juice and two bags of jerky before heading back out into the snow.

  Jensen carries the goods as we shoe back to the duplex.

  “Hey. Someone plowed here while we were gone,” I say when we turn onto our alley and the four feet of snow that was here less than an hour ago has been shoved to the side.
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br />   “Why is the plow still here? And parked in front of our duplex?” He gives me a perplexed look.

  “Oh, no.” I recognize the dark head leaping from the truck and walking around to head up the stairs to bang on my door.

  “What is it?”

  I face him and offer a weak smile. “My brothers.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  I have frequently been questioned, especially by women, of how I could reconcile family life with a scientific career. Well, it has not been easy.

  –Marie Curie