Advanced Physical Chemistry

by Susannah Nix

  Malik broke into a grin when it was her turn to order. “God, I love Monday nights. It’s the only day of the week I don’t mind working a double.” He tilted his head, trying to see into the container. “What’d you bring this week?”

  She slid the contraband toward him. “Peanut butter bars.”

  “Hey, those are for everyone,” Caleb said, coming out of the kitchen with a fresh dispenser of iced coffee. “No hogging them all this time, Malik.”

  Penny’s stomach lurched. They should put a bell on him so he couldn’t sneak up on people like that. She needed time to gird herself before confronting his handsomeness up close.

  “What’ll it be?” he asked, taking over at the register as Malik wandered off with the peanut butter bars.

  “Mango tea.” If she drank coffee this late it would keep her up half the night.

  Caleb gave an apologetic grimace. “We ran out. I’m making more, but it’ll be another five minutes or so.”

  “That’s okay. I’m in no hurry.” She handed him her credit card and added the usual twenty percent tip to the bill.

  “Go sit,” he said when she pushed the receipt toward him. “I’ll bring it out to you when it’s ready.”

  Penny grabbed a handful of napkins and joined her friends in the back corner. They’d already devoured half the peanut butter bars and were chatting excitedly about the previous night’s episode of Game of Thrones. Everyone in the group watched the show except Penny, who wasn’t a fan of all the violence and gore.

  From what she could gather, a major character had died last night, which seemed to happen almost every week. Also something involving incest, which—again—seemed to be a frequent occurrence.

  “These peanut butter bars are outrageous,” Olivia said, changing the subject. “I don’t know how you do it.”

  Penny dug in her bag for the baby hat she’d been knitting on Friday. “It’s just chemistry and following instructions. But thank you.”

  “How are you holding up?” Vilma asked, quirking a motherly eyebrow at her.

  “I’m fine!” she replied a little too brightly.

  Vilma’s eyebrow slanted into skepticism.

  “Honestly!” Penny said. “I’m feeling good about the breakup.”

  “She’s feeling so good, she’s given up men,” Jinny said.

  Cynthia lowered her knitting and laid a concerned hand on Penny’s knee. “Honey.”

  “It’s a good thing,” Penny said, spacing out the mint green stitches on her circular needles. “And it’s not forever. I’m just taking some time to enjoy being on my own for a while.”

  “I think that’s very healthy.” Cynthia gave an approving nod as she picked up her own needles again. She was knitting a complicated intarsia sweater for her husband’s birthday, and her lap was covered with a half dozen different colored yarn bobbins.

  Penny didn’t mention that she’d been feeling lonely and horny. Not even a week into her no-men resolution, and she was already sick of being single. It was fine though. She just needed to get used to it again. That was what smutty fanfic was for.

  Esther leaned forward for another peanut butter bar. “Penny thinks she’s too nice, and that’s why she keeps getting cheated on.”

  “Oh, honey, no.” Vilma’s head tilted in sympathy. “They cheated because they were cheaters. It’s their problem, not yours.”

  Penny shook her head, keeping her eyes on her stitches. “Even if that’s true, I bear some responsibility for dating so many of them. I keep choosing cheaters for some reason, and that’s on me. I’ve obviously fallen into a bad pattern and I need to break out of it.”

  “Do not change yourself for men,” Esther said around a mouthful of peanut butter bar. “It’s not worth it.”

  “Okay, but…” Penny hesitated, trying to organize her thoughts. “What if I want to change? What if I’m tired of being the nice girl? What if I want to try being the fun girl to see what it’s like? Maybe it’s better.”

  “It’s not better,” Jinny said. “Trust me.”

  “And you are fun.” Cynthia nudged Penny with her elbow.

  Penny wrinkled her nose. “I have schedules for my schedules. I think I need to practice loosening up a little for my own benefit, if nothing else. Try being more spontaneous. For example—” She glanced at Esther. “How often do you hand-wash your bras?”

  Esther blinked. “You’re supposed to hand-wash bras?”

  Jinny rolled her eyes. “Don’t ask her, she’s a statistical outlier.”

  “Okay, how often do you hand-wash your bras?” Penny asked Jinny.

  “Once a week,” Jinny said, looking down at the lacework shawl she was knitting.

  Penny narrowed her eyes. “Be honest.”

  “Okay, every other week,” Jinny admitted. “But I own a lot of bras.”

  Penny turned to Olivia. “What about you?”

  “Every few weeks, maybe—but I take my work wardrobe to the dry cleaners every week. I think I should get bonus points for that.”

  “And you?” Penny asked Cynthia.

  She shrugged. “Once a month—but I don’t wear bras every day.”

  Penny couldn’t imagine walking around without a bra, even in the privacy of her own home. When she’d weighed more, she’d even had to wear a bra to bed at night while she slept.

  “Vilma?” Penny glanced at the older woman. “How about you?”

  “Never,” she said. “I have one of those lingerie bags so I can throw them in the washing machine.”

  Olivia twisted her mouth to the side. “I don’t see what this has to do with you not being fun.”

  “I hand-wash my bras twice a week, you guys.”

  “Okay?” Olivia said, still looking confused.

  “Twice a week! A fun person does not spend two nights of every week hand-washing delicates.”

  “But bras are expensive,” Jinny said. “You should take care of them.”

  “Maybe I’m tired of always doing what I should,” Penny said with a sigh.

  Esther’s eyes lit up and she pointed a finger at Penny. “You need one of those boob sling towels!”

  “What’s that?” Vilma asked, looking up.

  “It’s like a sling for your boobs that goes around the back of your neck,” Esther said. “But it’s made of towel material, so it’s soft and cozy and absorbs all your underboob sweat. It’s for wearing when you get out of the shower or around the house.”

  “Sounds weird,” Cynthia said, wrinkling her nose in distaste.

  “It would be nice to walk around my house without a bra,” Penny said wistfully. “And without underboob sweat.”

  Jinny shrugged. “I do it every night.”

  Esther scowled at her. “You people with your reasonably-sized boobs can’t understand what it’s like for the rest of us.”

  “Do you do that thing where you tuck your shirt under your boobs?” Penny asked Esther.

  “Yes!” Esther nodded vigorously. “All the time!”

  “I think this boob sling sounds like heaven,” Vilma murmured as she sipped her wine.

  “That’s exactly what I’m talking about,” Penny said. “That’s what I need.”

  Cynthia’s brow furrowed as she reached for her own wine. “A boob sling?”

  “Yes!” Penny gave a decisive nod. “I mean, literally yes, I need one of those. But also metaphorically. I need to get out of my rut and try more things that are different and weird.”

  Jinny looked up, grinning. “Are we talking about sex now?”

  “Maybe, but it doesn’t have to be.” Penny glanced toward the counter and caught Caleb staring at her. She hastily fixed her eyes back on her knitting. “It could be anything, as long as it’s different.”

  “You moved out here,” Olivia said. “That was new and different.”

  Penny shook her head. “But I only did it because Brendon would have broken up with me if I hadn’t. It was the safe choice. Or I thought it was, anyway.” She’d been mo
re scared of losing him than moving to a new city. That wasn’t courage, it was desperation. And then she’d lost him anyway.

  Penny might have a name that sounded like a storybook heroine, but she’d never acted like one. She’d never been the type of girl who’d follow the rabbit down the hole to Wonderland, or climb out a window after Peter Pan, or go on an unexpected journey with Gandalf and a band of unruly dwarves. She was the girl who left playtime early to do her homework and straighten her room. She’d never take a risk on an uncertain venture. Not on purpose, anyway. That was the problem with life: even the sure things could pull the rug out from under you. So what was the point of always playing it safe?

  “I want to be more spontaneous,” Penny said. “Take some risks instead of always sticking to the safer path. I want to hike the steep path and have adventures.” She needed to be like Bilbo: stop fussing over the dwarves’ dirty dishes and go chase dragons with them instead.

  “I prefer the safer paths.” Vilma’s gaze drifted to Penny. “There are fewer rockslides on the safe paths.”

  “But the views are better on the steep path,” Penny said. “I want better views.”

  Esther looked confused. “Are we still talking about men?”

  Penny sighed. “I don’t know, you guys, I just feel like I need to try something different. Instead of rearranging my life to suit someone else, I need to focus on getting what I want.”

  “It sounds like what you want is more sex,” Jinny said with a knowing look. “And I applaud that.”

  “Not just more sex,” Penny said emphatically. “Better sex.”

  “Here’s your tea,” Caleb announced at Penny’s elbow

  They really need to put a bell on him, she thought as her face heated.

  He leaned over to set her mango tea on the table and nodded at her knitting as he straightened. “What are you making?”

  “Oh. Um.” Penny smoothed it out so he could see. “It’s a baby hat.”

  “Is it for Roxanne?”

  “No, I’m making her a blanket. This is for one of my cousins.”

  He nodded and glanced around the table. “You guys need anything else?”

  “I think we’re good,” Penny said. “Thanks.”

  His hand brushed her shoulder as he turned to leave, and Penny felt her heart lurch.

  “What was that?” Olivia hissed when he was gone, her eyes widening.

  “What?” Penny said, keeping her eyes fixed on her knitting.

  “Hottie Barista being all friendly with you.”

  Penny shrugged. “I’m a regular. I get special treatment.”

  “I’ll say.” Esther lifted her eyebrows. “He touched your shoulder.”

  “And smiled,” Jinny added. “He never smiles.”

  “He did not,” Penny said. “You’re exaggerating.”

  “He was totally flirting with you,” Jinny insisted.

  “No, he wasn’t. Don’t be ridiculous.” He was just being friendly. Platonically friendly.

  Olivia shook her head. “I’ve never seen him talk to anyone unless he had to.”

  Cynthia directed a smirk at Penny. “There’s your adventure right there.”

  “I’ll bet he smells great.” Jinny sighed dreamily. “He looks like he’d smell nice.”

  “But not too nice,” Cynthia said, still smirking.

  “Yeah, just a little dirty.”

  “Just the right amount of dirty.”

  Penny shushed them. “Guys, he’s right over there. And he’s a person, not a piece of meat.”

  Esther snorted. “I’ve seen no evidence to support that claim.”

  “It’s definitely weird,” Jinny said. “Hottie Barista never talks to anyone.”

  Penny frowned at her knitting. “His name is Caleb, and he talks to me sometimes.”

  “I rest my case,” Jinny said, arching a smug eyebrow.

  “It’s only because I’m in here every day.”

  “I always assumed he was a robot,” Olivia said thoughtfully. “A beautiful, lifelike robot.”

  “He is very attractive,” Vilma said.

  “You should hit that,” Jinny said, nodding at Penny.

  Esther shook her head. “Mmm, bad idea.”

  Jinny turned to look at her as she reached for her wine. “Why? He’s gorgeous.”

  “Reason number one: hot guys are never any good in bed.”

  “Ouch,” Cynthia said. “Damn. What about Jonathan?”

  “Yeah.” Jinny shot Esther an accusatory look. “Are you saying he’s bad in bed, or are you saying he’s not hot?”

  Esther rolled her eyes. “Neither. He happens to be fantastic in bed and he’s hella cute. But he’s also smart and sensitive and funny and those are the qualities that make him a good lay. Hottie Barista, on the other hand, is an empty vessel. Guys like that don’t have anything going for them but their looks. You seriously think there’s anything in that pretty head of his other than his own ego? Doubtful.”

  Penny wanted to defend him, but she knew if she did, they’d just double down on the idea that he was flirting with her.

  “What’s reason number two?” Vilma asked Esther.

  “Don’t shit where you eat.”

  Penny scrunched up her nose. “Gross.”

  Esther shrugged. “You come here every day, right? He might as well be a coworker. Bad idea.”

  “Hey!” Jinny protested. “Yemi and I work together.”

  “No, you don’t,” Esther said. “You work in the same building, but you don’t work together. If you broke up, you’d hardly ever see each other. Not that you’re breaking up,” she added hastily. “You guys are obviously perfect for each other and you’ll be together forever.”

  “Thank you,” Jinny said.

  Esther turned back to Penny and hooked a thumb at the counter where Caleb was working. “You bag that prize and then what? You really think he’s got long-term boyfriend potential?”

  Penny didn’t even think he had fleeting encounter potential. The entire hypothetical lacked plausibility.

  “Unless there’s a happily ever after in your future,” Esther went on, “you’ll have to deal with an awkward encounter every time you come in here.” She shook her head sadly. “Better just to find a new favorite coffee shop.”

  “I don’t want to find a new place to meet,” Vilma said. “I like it here.”

  “They have wine,” Cynthia pointed out.

  “That’s what I’m saying.” Esther turned back to Penny. “I mean, sure, he’s hot. But is he hot enough to deal with the consequences?”

  Jinny gazed across the room at Caleb. “Maybe.”

  As Penny watched him wipe down the counter, she let her mind wander over the possibility. In detail. Luxuriating in the fantasy. Imagining his mouth and his hands on her. His hard body pressed against hers. His warmth everywhere, filling her up…

  Nope. Ridiculous. It could never happen.

  “This conversation is absurd.” Penny shook her head to clear away the images. “I’m off men, remember?”

  “Sure you are,” Jinny said. “We’ll see how long that lasts.”

  Chapter Six

  It was raining on Wednesday. It never rained in Los Angeles.

  It had been overcast when Penny set out for Antidote on foot, but she’d assumed it was just marine layer like always. She changed her tune when the clouds started dumping water on her.

  She was two-thirds of the way to Antidote, so she quickened her pace and kept going rather than turn back toward home. It couldn’t possibly rain for long; she’d just wait it out at the coffee shop.

  By the time she ducked in the door, she was soaked to the skin.

  “It’s raining!” she announced as she squeegeed water off her face.

  “Yikes,” Elyse said.

  “What are you doing out walking in the rain without an umbrella?” George asked, swiveling on his stool to frown at her. He was the only customer this morning. The rain must have kept everyone else aw
ay. Everyone with any sense, that is.

  “It wasn’t raining when I left the house!” Penny shook out her arms, sending droplets of water flying in every direction. “It never rains in LA!” Her shoes were waterlogged and water dripped off her skirt onto the doormat like the drip line of a tree.

  “Stay there,” Caleb said and disappeared into the back.

  “Now you know better,” George said. “It only mostly never rains.”

  Penny tried to squeeze the water out of her hair. It dripped down her back in a cold stream that made her shiver. “I used to check the weather every single day, you know. But it always said the same thing, so I quit.”

  “Los Angeles rain likes to sneak up on you. And no one knows how to drive in it. You’re lucky you weren’t run over.”

  Caleb came back with a stack of clean dishtowels. “It’s all we have,” he said apologetically.

  “No, this is great. Thank you.” Penny grabbed one and toweled off her face and chest.

  His gaze came to rest on her décolletage as she patted it dry. Thank goodness her dress had a bright, busy pattern, because the way it was sticking to her could have been very indecent otherwise.

  Caleb cleared his throat and bent over to lay a towel out on the floor. “Step out of your shoes onto this.”

  “I’m not allowed to be barefoot in a restaurant,” she protested.

  “I promise not to call the health department on you—this time.” He put his hand under her elbow to steady her and nodded at the floor. “Come on.”

  She let herself lean on him, her fingers closing around his large forearm—the very same forearm she’d gazed at longingly so many times—as she slipped out of her shoes. Too bad he’s wearing a sweatshirt, she thought as she stepped onto the dry towel, scrunching her wet toes in the cotton, or else I could be touching his bare skin right now. A shiver raced down her spine at the thought.

  He thrust the stack of towels at her, then scooped up her shoes and began drying them off. She reached out to stop him. “Oh, no! You really don’t have to—”

  He waved her off. “I don’t want to have to mop the floor behind you, do I?”