Rocket Science

by Emily Mayer

  Lia was the first one to see me return, and she gave me a sympathetic smile which I returned as I made my way around the seats to Paige. Sebastian had returned to the group with a very pretty woman who was wrapped around him like a boa constrictor trying to crush lunch.

  Paige hopped out of her seat and grabbed my arm to drag me a little distance from the group, making me teeter unsteadily on my heels.

  “I am going to kill him, Lennon,” Paige growled. The death glares she was shooting over my shoulder would have made Harrison proud. “I’m so sorry. I swear he’s not usually such an asshole. He comes to my yoga classes to help with an old injury, and I swear to you, he’s the nicest guy. This is a total Jekyll and Hyde situation.”

  I shrugged my shoulders. “It’s no big deal. I’m sure he’s just having a bad day. Anyway, I don’t think my insides appreciated that Indian food, so I’m going to head home.” I mentally high-fived myself for how steady my voice sounded.

  Paige’s eyes snapped to mine. “I’ll go with you. Just let me say goodbye real quick.”

  “No.” I shook my head, trying for a reassuring smile. “You should totally stay. I’m just going to go home and go to sleep. Or die on the toilet, and you really don’t want to see that.”

  “I’m not letting you go by yours—”

  I cut her off. “Seriously, Paige, I already ordered a ride and everything. Don’t waste that dress.”

  “You’re not a waste,” she stated firmly. See? Perfect example of amazing friends.

  “I know. But it would be a waste for you to leave with me.” I left out the part where I would bury myself under all my covers and plan how I could live the rest of my life without leaving the safety of my bed.

  She squinted her eyes and gave me an assessing look. “Okay, but text me when you get home so I know you made it safe and sound.”

  “I will,” I promised. My phone dinged, letting me know my ride was close. “My ride’s almost here.”

  She gave me a quick hug, saying one more apology-laced goodbye. I watched her make her way back toward the table, and accidentally made eye contact with Sebastian for a second. His gaze narrowed, propelling me back toward the door and out into the quiet.

  I let out a relieved sigh when I saw a silver Honda Accord pull up to the curb. A quick check on my phone confirmed this was my ride. I slid inside the car and greeted my driver.

  I wish I could say that when I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the window, the predominant emotion I felt was pride. But mostly, I just felt disappointment. The same sense of disappointment followed me into my apartment as I slipped out of my dress and slid into bed, not even bothering to wash off the makeup. My hand traced up and down my scar in a silent reminder that I was lucky—so lucky—and had survived way worse than a bad night out.

  8.

  I didn’t have much time to wallow on Sunday, which I suppose was for the best even though I totally could have justified a mountain of waffles and a good Netflix binge. Sunday was family dinner day, and truly one of my favorite days of the week. Harrison picked me up around two, and we drove to our mom’s house to spend the rest of the day. I was more than happy to slip back into the comfort of routine after last night. There was something to be said about predictability. Even Harrison’s not-so-subtle questions was delightfully predictable.

  By Monday morning, I barely remembered stupid Sebastian Kincaid and his stupid perfect face, which is exactly what I told Paige when I got her tenth apology text. Well, minus the stupids, obviously.

  I stopped to get a latte on my way to work as a reward for only hitting snooze twice as well as for wearing one of my new dresses. I found Monday mornings worked best when they involved a rewards system. I spent the rest of the morning reviewing the data from our latest round of testing on engine components. Numbers were swimming behind my eyelids by the time Janie knocked on my desk to get my attention.

  “Hello? Earth to Lennon.”

  I snapped my head up from my computer and adjusted my glasses. “Sweet mother of pearl, you scared the crap out of me Janie!”

  “I thought you were dead.” Janie plopped down in one of the extra chairs in my office. “It’s almost one and I hadn’t heard from you about lunch.”

  My stomach rumbled right on cue. “I guess I lost track of time. Did you already eat?”

  “Nope. I was waiting on you. I want to hear all the details about Saturday! You and Paige looked ah-mazing, by the way.”

  I weighed my options. I could tell Janie the same half-truths I’d told Harrison yesterday, or I could tell her the whole truth and relive the embarrassment. Having to make these kinds of decisions was another entry on the growing list of reasons to never leave my apartment, except for work and food. And to pick up my future cat family from the shelter. I sighed.

  “It was kind of disaster, but I did discover that I love manicures.” I held up my hands and wiggled my fingers.

  “What? What happened?” Janie’s brow furrowed in concern.

  “I’ll tell you about it on our way to lunch,” I offered, suddenly absolutely starving and needing the fortifying power of carbohydrates.

  I filled her in on the events of Saturday while we walked. By the time we made it to the cafeteria, Janie was deciding whether it would be better to murder Sebastian or break his legs. At one point, I attempted to defend Sebastian by pointing out that he probably wasn’t expecting to be set up either, but Janie just snorted and pointed out that I didn’t react like a gigantic ass clown. I didn’t necessarily enjoy being his defender when I was still clinging to my somewhat irrational anger, but I also didn’t want to spend the next decade visiting Janie in prison.

  While Janie was busy plotting revenge, I scoped out the lunch offerings and filled my tray. I followed Janie to the cash register to wait in line while she highlighted the merits of castration.

  “Oh my gosh, it was so romantic! I thought dinner at Basil’s was going to be our celebration, so I was just so surprised that he’d booked us a hotel room.”

  Oh for the love of Cheetos, you have got to be effing kidding me. Why, why, why was the universe determined to hate me?

  “Oh hey, Lennon,” Sam said, smiling at me. “I love your dress.”

  And I love your boyfriend. “Thanks.”

  Sam gave me a smile, and I felt a completely unreasonable urge to karate chop it right off her face. She looked at her friend and said, “Lennon is actually the one who introduced me to Theo.” Turning back to me, she said, “I was just telling Lauren about our romantic anniversary weekend.”

  My insides were shriveling up like a grape in the sunshine. I fought the urge to point out that there was food in my refrigerator older than their relationship, but you didn’t see me celebrating.

  “Oh… uh… that’s great.”

  Janie must have sensed my distress. She whipped around and eyeballed the small space between Sam and me before wedging her body into the gap.

  “Hey, Sam, good seeing you.” Janie smiled, wrapping a hand around my tray-free arm and yanking me forward. I barely managed to swipe my ID badge and smile in apology at the frazzled cashier. “Happy people are the most annoying people on the planet. Like, keep your happiness to yourself. It’s Monday. Don’t force your happiness on other people. I mean, do either of us look like happy people right now?”

  I wasn’t actually sure Janie required an answer, but I shook my head anyway, slumping into an empty chair and setting my tray down.

  “So, what do you want to do about this Sebastian situation?” Janie asked, taking a bite of her panini. Her eyes were alarmingly intense.

  “Uh…” I picked at my fries. “What do you mean, ‘do about’?”

  “Are we going to murder him? Because I was thinking it would be better if I unleashed some of my mad Taekwondo skills on him, so he can never play soccer again. Although I’m totally down for the whole castration angle too.”

  I stared at her, a limp French fry dangling from my fingers. I blinked, wait
ing for her to add a “just kidding” or laugh, or do something that indicated she was just listing punishments as a sign of solidarity.

  “Okay, first, you might be slightly deranged, and I’m legitimately worried about what’s happening in that head of yours. Second, we aren’t doing anything. Sebastian’s just a jerk. Third, even though I am seriously concerned for your mental health, I’m still making you an honorary aunt for the colony of cats I’m adopting.”

  “I’m your ride or die! You say there’s a body, and I create a fake identity, use that identity to rent a van because I can’t fit a body over five foot six into the trunk of my Prius, and show up with a shovel. No questions asked. But let’s circle back to the colony of cats for a second, because that sounds a lot crazier than plotting murder.” Janie waved her finger at me for emphasis. I was momentarily stunned by the amount of detail in her plan to dispose of a body. No one can come up with that kind of detail on the fly. I made a mental note to never, ever make Janie angry.

  “Cats make excellent pets! They’re relatively independent but still provide the basic requirements of companionship. And lots of influential people have extolled the virtue of cats. Ernest Hemingway adored his cat. Abraham Lincoln fed his son’s cat with a gold fork at White House dinners,” I pointed out triumphantly.

  Janie rolled her eyes. “Yeah, wow, great examples. Look how well things ended for them.”

  “I don’t really think it was Tabby’s fault Lincoln was assassinated.” It was my turn to roll my eyes.

  “All right, let’s slow the crazy train down here—”

  “You were the one just casually talking about murder!” I interrupted, throwing my hands up.

  “Shhh!” Janie hissed. “Stop screaming about murder before someone reports us both to HR. Now, don’t be mad, but I had a little free time on my hands this weekend, so I went ahead and created a profile for you on PairBond.”

  PairBond was a dating site designed specifically for people in STEM careers, aka nerds. Janie pulled her cellphone out and slid it to me, actually looking slightly nervous as I picked up the phone.

  My eyes bulged when I saw the picture she had chosen for “my” profile. It was a manga character in a tight leather jumpsuit that was unzipped almost to her navel, revealing unnaturally large breasts.

  “Janie, why is my profile picture a picture of Kallen Kozuki?”

  “Uh, because she’s a total badass. And there aren’t that many manga characters with red hair. Plus look at her boobs in that jumpsuit! I’d hit that.”

  I rubbed at my forehead, smearing a little French fry grease on one of my lenses, and sighed. This lunch was getting exhausting. I just wanted to eat my mound of fries in peace—was that too much to ask of the universe? I sighed again, giving the rest of the profile a cursory glance before handing the phone back to Janie.

  “Fine. I’ll do it, but you are using a real picture of me,” I relented, deciding it was better to lose the battle and win the war. I might have a profile but that didn’t mean I had to do anything with it.

  Janie bounced in her chair, clapping her hands together gleefully. She hit a button on her phone.

  “PocketRocket69 is live and looking for love.”

  I winced. “On second thought, keep the picture.”

  9.

  At Paige’s yoga class on Tuesday night I tried to shake off the funk I had been in since lunch on Monday, but even Paige’s soothing reassurance that everything was unfolding as it should wasn’t enough to lift my spirits. The slew of weird responses I had received from my profile on PairBond wasn’t helping the situation. I’d learned that people were still using the abbreviation ‘DTF’ and that an alarming amount of men thought it was acceptable to send unsolicited pictures of their anatomy. Why anyone thought a picture of their penis would seal the deal was beyond me. Penises were strange-looking, like some weird one-eyed species of naked mole rat without legs.

  I knew I was at rock bottom when I seriously considered calling my mom on Wednesday after work for one of her speeches. The tests we’d run on a simulator for one of the thrusters that morning hadn’t gone well, and I was scrambling to figure out where we’d gone wrong. I could hear my mom telling me she didn’t raise any failures, and she absolutely would not be happy to know I was spending so much time thinking about dating lately. The downside of a Mama Walker classic was that they never lasted less than thirty minutes. She was like a runway train once she really got going.

  I decided that what I really needed was to get out of my apartment. A new National Geographic magazine had come yesterday, so I grabbed it and one of my favorite issues of The Watchmen, stuffed them both into my bag, and headed toward one of my favorite places within walking distance. Spout was a cozy tea shop about a block away from my apartment building. It was my favorite place to go in the evenings when it was way past the acceptable hour for caffeine. I didn’t really care for tea, but they made a cinnamon apple tea that tasted just like hot apple cider, and all their chairs were repurposed wingbacks.

  I pushed through the door and made my way to the counter. There were only a handful of people inside, including a knitting group sitting in the chairs around the fireplace. While it didn’t necessarily make sense to have a fireplace in this climate, I loved how cozy it made the atmosphere in here whenever they had it lit. Curling up in front of a fireplace with a warm beverage and a good book was one of the things I actually missed about winters in Massachusetts. In fact, it might have been the only thing on that particular list.

  I placed my order and scanned the room, looking for the perfect place to curl up for a couple of hours. I strategically chose a table tucked into a quiet corner where I could still see the fireplace. Reaching into my bag, I pulled out the magazine and graphic novel, deciding to start with the magazine. My phone vibrated on the table next to my cup. I looked down and saw a text from grandpa and a notification from the PairBond app.

  Grandpa: Lennon, do an old man a favor and let me know what the odds are on the Dodgers vs Angels next week.

  Me: This wouldn’t be for the illegal gambling ring you’re running out of the senior center, would it?

  Grandpa had been busted multiple time for sports betting at the senior center. He was one bust away from a lifetime ban. I went to ESPN.com and pulled up the stats from last year for both teams anyway.

  Grandpa: Of course not. I’m just having a friendly conversation with Saul about baseball.

  Me: If you say so. The Dodgers are likely to win if Alexander pitches.

  Grandpa: Good, good. How many runs do you think they’ll win by?

  Me: That’s oddly specific for just a friendly conversation.

  Grandpa: No one likes a snitch, kid.

  Me: Dodgers win by 2 runs.

  Grandpa: That’s my girl! Love you.

  I shook my head, switching to the dating app to check the new message. I squeaked when a hand wrapped around yet another penis filled my screen. Hitting delete, I snuck a guilty glance around to make sure no one had seen my screen. I was one dick pic away from deleting this app.

  My attention turned to the National Geographic magazine sitting beside my tea. The cover pictured a radio telescope pointed at the night sky with the caption “WE ARE NOT ALONE.” I smiled. This was exactly what I needed. Maybe the universe was finally ready to give me a break.

  Grandpa was actually responsible for my love of NatGeo. We used to read them together and imagine all the adventures we would go on when my heart was fixed. Those magazines had been a means of escape for me, and now they were a comforting tradition. Grandpa and I both still read them, and we would exchange notes every month.

  Even though I was excited to read the feature story about scientists’ latest efforts to find extraterrestrial life, I started from the first page. I always read each new issue cover to cover, never going out of order. I sipped my tea and got lost between the familiar pages.

  “Is this seat taken?” asked a deep voice with a distinctly British accent. My he
art rate spiked in response.

  My eyes slid to take in denim covering muscular thighs and up to heavily tattooed forearms. My gaze flicked upward and then back down to the open magazine in my hands. As if there was some temporary disruption between the optic nerve and the thalamus, my eyes registered Sebastian Kincaid standing beside my table, but my brain could not process the sensory input. I blinked a few times, adjusting my glasses, before looking back up at the man standing beside my table. Sebastian apparently gave up on waiting for a response and slid into the chair across from me, placing a steaming mug on the table.

  “What are you reading?” he asked casually, as if it was completely normal for him to be sitting across from me at Spout. As if he just hadn’t sent my world toppling off its axis again.

  Without taking my eyes of the pages, I lifted the magazine slightly so he could see the cover. My heart was beating frantically in my chest while my mind reeled. What was he doing here? This couldn’t be a chance meeting. There was no room between my racing thoughts to form responses let alone to verbalize them.

  “National Geographic? Huh, I didn’t know that was still around. Is that a comic book?”

  I peered over the edge of the page, watching as one large hand reached across the table and turned the book to face him. Ink covered his arm, creeping onto hands that were so distinctly male. The ink on his skin contrasted with the ink on the cover, and I wondered what his skin would look like next to my pale skin. And then I wondered why I would be picturing our skin together at all. My hormones may have forgotten about Saturday night, but my brain still remembered.

  “The Watchmen? This any better than the movie?” He flipped through the pages, stopping at various points to look at something that caught his eye. “I’ve never been into comics, but I like the Marvel movies.”