Rocket Science
Page 1
Rocket Science
Emily Mayer
Copyright © 2020 Emily Mayer
All rights reserved
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
To my sisters, Katharine and Laura.
My very first and very best friends.
1.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
I could feel my right eye starting to twitch to the rhythm of Kyle’s pen. Since I couldn’t reach over and knock the pen out of his hands, I pressed two fingers into the muscles above my eye hoping to make the twitching stop.
The chat icon on the tablet in front of me bounced, alerting me to an incoming message. I snuck glances around the conference table to confirm that everyone was focused on their own tablets, not me or our fearless team leader droning on about budgets, and clicked the message.
Janie: Dude, it’s hella cool that you can move one eyebrow like that. You look like the Grinch right now. Only less green obvi.
I shot a look across the table at Janie, who attempted to wiggle an eyebrow at me. Janie was my work bestie, and let me tell you, the competition for that coveted spot was pretty stiff. It was between her and Carl, the guy from IT who told everyone way too much information about absolutely everything. He always hooked me up with the newest tech, though, which counted as friendship in my book. Janie was an accountant at Spatium so we weren’t usually working together, but a twist of fate otherwise known as maternity leave had placed Janie on the same project I was working on.
Spatium was developing a powerful launch vehicle which would be capable of transporting large quantiles of cargo and human beings long distances, and would be fully reusable upon reentry. The ultimate goal was taking people to Mars, but we had a contract with NASA’s Commercial Crew Program that was slated to begin next year. That translated into a big budget requiring an accountant to keep costs in line with projections: Enter Janie.
I was one of the aerospace engineers working on the project. Our project leader insisted on holding weekly status conferences even though everyone on this project talked to each other pretty much daily, which meant no one needed an update so no one paid attention during the meetings. Once every few months, the CEO or some other very important person would show up from the corporate floor, and then we would all pretend like these meetings were super-informative. Today was not one of those days.
Me: I’m not controlling it! I will buy you cookies from Lola’s for a month if you knock the pen out of Kyle’s hand.
Janie: Don’t tempt me, Lennon. You know I love those cookies more than life. More than this job. What is space compared to cookies, amiright?
Me: Lola’s does have the best oatmeal raisin cookies.
My stomach made a loud rumble that I was pretty sure could be heard from space. I looked up in horror, pressing a hand to my abdomen as if that would silence the beast that had taken up residence in there. Thankfully, everyone was too busy not paying attention to take notice of a weird noise. It helped that our team leader, Dr. Schramm, was a notorious throat-clearer.
Me: Why does he make these meetings right before lunch?
Janie: I don’t know. Why do you like oatmeal raisin cookies? The world is just filled with unsolvable mysteries, Lennon. Embrace it. Btdubs, I totally heard your stomach.
Me: Great. Do you think Theo heard?
Theo was the love of my life. We were meant to be together. He just didn’t know it yet. To date, we had exchanged around 572,916 words. It sounds impressive, I know. But considering the average person speaks between 125 to 150 words per minute and the average employed adult in the United States works approximately 1,811.16 hours per year and I had been working with Theo for a little over two years, I was not making much progress toward our impending nuptials.
Janie: Aww, babycakes, you could fall out of your chair and Theo wouldn’t notice. He’s too busy chatting up his GIRLFRIEND to notice what’s happening in here.
And then there was that. Theo’s girlfriend, Sam, was a chemical engineer specializing in polymers. In a sad twist of fate, I was actually responsible for bringing them together. I have never been the best at social situations, so at a company mixer we were all forced to attend, I completely panicked when Theo started talking to me. Scrambling for something to say, I pointed out Sam and proceeded to list all the things they had in common. What I lacked in social skills, I made up for in sales. Since then, Janie had made it her personal mission to remind me that Theo had a girlfriend.
Janie: They’re making dinner plans to celebrate their SIX-MONTH ANNIVERSARY tonight. Basil at 7.
Dang it. I loved Basil. They had the best Italian. I glanced up to see Janie sneaking glances at Theo’s tablet. She was conveniently seated next to him, well convenient for creeping purposes anyway.
Me: Who suggested Basil?
Janie: Why do you want to know that? Ugh, you want to know if Theo suggested it so you can add a shared love of Basil to your list of reasons why you are meant to be together, don’t you?
Me: What? No. I just like complete data sets.
Lie. I wanted to add it to the running lists of reasons Theo and I were a perfect match. Janie snorted from across the table.
Janie: Lucky for you, this meeting is about to end.
“Okay, folks, looks like we all have a busy rest of the week—” Dr. Schramm cleared his throat and began collecting his stack of papers— “so I won’t keep you.”
Everyone shot out of their seats and made for the door like their sanity depended on it. Janie waited for me to catch up before joining the mob.
“Want to grab lunch?” she asked, as if she didn’t already know the answer to that question.
“Yes, definitely.” My stomach let out another grumble for extra emphasis.
One of the many perks of working for Spatium was the amazing cafeteria. The company hired actual chefs who prepared entire menus every week.
My phone buzzed in my hand as we made our way on to the elevator. I pulled it out and felt a smile tug the corner of my mouth up when I saw the name.
Harrison: Did you try that protein shake I put in your refrigerator?
Harrison was my older brother. Even though he was only four years older than me at the ripe old age of thirty, he acted like he was my keeper and a sixty-year-old man.
Me: Yep. It tasted like dirty socks trying to disguise themselves as chocolate.
Three little dots let me know Harrison wasn’t prepared to let the subject drop. I could almost picture him sitting in his tattoo station wearing his signature scowl while typing his response. He’d bought his tattoo shop from his mentor two years ago, and it was his baby. As far as siblings went, we couldn’t have been more different. Harrison was an amazing artist whereas I couldn’t even color in the lines. He’d majored in art at UCLA while interning at Bad Wolf Ink for four years. He was almost a foot taller than me and built like he lived in the gym while I was built like a bean pole that didn’t get enough sunlight. Harrison always told people that I got all the brains and he got all the brawn, but he was super smart in his own right. You just had to look at the success of Bad Wolf Ink to know he was a secret smartypants.
Harrison: You need to stop skipping breakfast.
My fingers flew across the screen forming a reply, but before I could hit send, another message appeared below it.
Harrison: Your fancy coffee shit doesn’t count.
Me: Sir, yes sir.
I couldn’t help smiling as I imagined Harrison rolling his eyes while reading my response. Ah, siblings—gotta love ’em.
“So,” Janie said, loudly enough to be heard over the noise in the cafeteria, “have you thought anymore about the dating site I showed you?”
“Sure.” I hoped my noncommittal response would be the end of the dating discussion.
I did not want to have this conversation with Janie again. She may have tended toward ‘nerd’ on the spectrum of behaviors, but she was beautiful and outgoing. Her dad was Korean and her mother Swedish, and the result was pretty much perfection in physical form. With long caramel-colored hair, stunning almond-shaped eyes that were the color of melted chocolate, and a complexion like porcelain, Janie never lacked for attention from the opposite sex. If she wasn’t one of the nicest people I’d ever met, I would have been required to hate her on behalf of all of us physically inferior beings.
“And?” Janie prodded, placing a salad on her tray next to some yogurt.
“I’m still thinking about it,” I mumbled as I made room on my own tray for a basket of French fries. I was feeling like a little comfort food. Between Theo’s anniversary planning and this dating talk, I was starting to feel a defeating combination of sad and pathetic.
I followed her to the cash register, swiping my ID and shooting a weak smile at the cashier. But my reprieve was short-lived. As soon as we sat down at an empty table, Janie continued her lecture.
“I know you love complete data sets, so here are some data points about online dating.” She spent the entire lunch trying to convince me online dating was an excellent idea, while I shoveled French fries into my mouth and mentally named my future cats. By the time we left the cafeteria and parted ways, I knew exactly what I needed—and it wasn’t an online dating service.
2.
Dulce de leche cheesecake cradled protectively in my arms, I started walking the block and a half from the only parking spot I’d been able to find near my apartment. Our building’s tiny parking lot had been “under construction” almost the entire time I’d lived in the building, so I used the daily walk to justify things like eating an entire cheesecake. I’d spent the drive home planning the perfect wallow night. Who needed a partner to share your life with when you had cheesecake and reruns of Buffy the Vampire Slayer? Not me. I barely thought about the fact that Theo was probably busy getting ready for his anniversary dinner with someone who was not me.
“Lennon!”
I turned my head to see Paige bouncing toward me, a smile stretching wide across her perfect face. I’d met Paige when I was moving into the building. She lived at the end of the hall in an apartment that was almost identical to mine. Paige was a yoga instructor and did some modeling on the side. Her blonde hair had been styled into a high ponytail that bobbed enthusiastically with each step.
I slowed down and waited for her to catch up, which didn’t take long thanks to her boundless energy and long legs.
“Hey girl! Ohhh, what’s that?” she said, peering down to check out the box in my arms.
“Dulce de leche cheesecake from Lola’s.” I hugged it a little tighter to my chest when I caught the wistful look that crossed her face at the mention of cheesecake. Paige claimed to be a vegan but was always declaring it cheat day. We all knew that wasn’t how veganism worked, but no one called her out on it.
“What’s the occasion?” she asked, finally tearing her gaze from the box to dig out her building keys. She unlocked the door and held it open for me.
“No occasion.” I tried to sound nonchalant as I walked past her.
Paige was firmly on Team Online Dating with Janie. I regretted introducing my friends to each other. I was questioning my need to have a social circle at all.
“You just decided to eat an entire cheesecake by yourself today?” Paige’s question was laced with skepticism.
I was suddenly grateful that walking up the first flight of stairs left me slightly out of breath. Climbing the two flights of stairs to our floor every day was my cardio. Catching my breath gave me the excuse I needed to order my thoughts. I didn’t really feel like talking about my feelings—I felt like retreating into my apartment and eating them. But despite her inherent peppiness, Paige was relentless and would probably not leave until she knew I was okay. And I was at least socially aware enough to understand that a pastry box for one person was the universal sign for emotional distress.
“You are giving off some very sad energy right now. I can sense your aura’s in serious distress. What’s going on?” Paige asked, scanning me from head to toe.
I sighed. “Theo and his girlfriend were planning their six-month anniversary dinner at work.”
Her large blue eyes widened in concern. I knew with one hundred percent certainty that the box in my arms was the only thing keeping Paige from throwing her arms around me. She was a firm believer in the healing power of human contact.
“Oh Lennon, I’m sorry.” She squeezed my arm. “I know what we need!”
“We?” I yelled at her back. She was already halfway down the hall.
“Yes, we! You’re not wallowing all alone,” Paige called over her shoulder, pushing open the door of her apartment and disappearing from sight.
I grumbled to myself as I opened my own door but left it unlocked for Paige. I smiled, thinking that somewhere Harrison’s blood pressure was spiking and he couldn’t figure out why. He texted me almost-nightly reminders to make sure my door was locked.
A few minutes later, Paige opened my door waving a bottle of wine.
“Ta-dah! No pity party is complete without wine. Well, any booze will do but hard liquor might actually kill you and it’s Wednesday.”
I wasn’t much of a drinker. I had been the exact opposite of a partier in high school, and my group of friends in college weren’t big drinkers. The result was a very low threshold for intoxication.
Paige went straight to the kitchen, getting glasses for wine and making herself right at home.
“I’m just going to go change,” I said, ready to admit defeat. I’d be sharing my pity party—and, more than likely, my dessert.
I quickly slipped out of my bra and into my favorite oversized MIT sweater and a pair of leggings. Most of the time, I wished I was better endowed in the chest region—I was lucky to fill a B cup—but there were times I didn’t hate it. I could admit that being able to free-boob it was a perk. I wandered the two feet from my room to the couch where Paige was waiting with two glasses of wine and two forks.
“I just went ahead and assumed we were past plates. Are we going with sad songs or a sad movie?” she asked, taking a sip of wine.
“I was going to watch Buffy reruns.” I picked up a fork and took a large bite.
“That’s… an interesting choice,” Paige said around a forkful of cheesecake. I didn’t have the heart to point out that it contained large quantities of multiple forms of dairy. I may have wanted to be pathetic alone, but I knew Paige was being the very best kind of friend—the kind who refused to let you be alone.
“Yeah, I was in the mood to watch some supernatural creatures get stabbed.” I washed the cheesecake down with a drink of wine, the two forms of sweetness combining in a way I liked. “This wine is good.”
“Whoa, that’s dark.” Paige ignored my comment about the wine and clicked on the last episode of Buffy I had watched. “But I can get behind some girl power, butt-kicking action.”
We made it
about three minutes into the episode before Paige was back with more questions.
“So, Theo and Sam are still going strong?” she asked tentatively. I nodded my response, taking another drink of wine. “How do you feel about that?”
I lifted one shoulder slightly. “Not great, obviously. I know I need to accept that Theo’s probably going to marry Sam and make smart, beautiful babies, and I’ll probably die alone with my cats who will inevitably eat my corpse when their food supply runs out.”
Paige blinked at me a few times before throwing her arms around me. She squeezed me tightly while shaking her head.
“You’re not going to die alone.” She released me. “Even if you and Theo weren’t meant to be together, there’s still someone out there for you. You just need to stop living in a fantasy world—”
“Says the vegan eating cheesecake,” I mumbled.
“—and put yourself out there,” Paige finished, completely undeterred by my interruption. “Have you thought any more about the dating website Janie suggested?”
Sweet baby Patrick Stewart, why was the universe trying to kill me today? I fingered the worn hem of my sweatshirt.
“I don’t think online dating would work for me. I don’t do well with strangers, especially when there are expectations defined by social convention.” I admitted, embarrassed. I knew the heat I felt creeping up my neck wasn’t from the alcohol.
“Dating does have a lot of rules, but that doesn’t mean everyone has to—or even wants to—follow them. Most of them are super stupid anyway. And the whole point of online dating is that you wouldn’t be strangers by the time you meet. You can get to know each other through the magic of the internet before you meet each other face to face.”
I knew her argument had merit. It was the same one Janie had made at lunch, but the idea of meeting someone from the internet in person made me feel physically anxious.
“I just don’t think it’s for me.” I wiped my sweaty palms on my leggings. “Besides, I don’t think I’m any less awkward over the internet.”