Rocket Science

by Emily Mayer

  The truth was, I was just Lennon—a little quirky and a lot nerdy. I wanted Sebastian to like me, the me with all her strengths and all her weaknesses, not a glossed-up version. If he couldn’t like me just as I was, it would completely suck and probably break my heart a little, but I would have to find a way to be okay with it. No one was worth being half of yourself.

  I braided my hair across the crown of my head (thank you, YouTube), letting the rest hang down my back, and added a little makeup before slipping into my clothes. I shoveled down some Lucky Charms and an apple toaster strudel, because health, just in time. Sebastian texted me that he was here just as I was putting my dishes in the dishwasher. I made sure Boomer had enough water and then gave him a hug and kiss—against his strong opposition—before heading out the door with a little extra pep in my step.

  I opened the door and stopped in my tracks. Sebastian was leaning against a car that made me believe in love at first sight. The man leaning against the car was not bad either, but that car…! That. Car. I walked over to him, taking in the sleek aerodynamic body, which had been painted a bold red.

  Running my hand lovingly across the car, I turned an accusatory look toward Sebastian, who was holding the door open for me. I slid in, stink-eye still in full force, and watched him walk around the front of the car before turning an admiring eye to its interior.

  “You didn’t pick me up in this bad boy last time,” I said before he even had the chance to buckle his seatbelt.

  He gave me a confused look. “I did not. I have a few cars.”

  I chose to ignore the “a few cars” part of his response because the craziness of that statement would be obvious to a solid 98% of us mere mortals.

  “Yes, but this isn’t just any car.” I turned in my seat to face him, a wide, wide smile stretching the muscles of my face. “This is the 2019 Audi TT RS, the only five-cylinder engine commercially available.”

  He shifted the car into gear and I almost moaned. Holy torque, Batman. He accelerated, shooting me a naughty grin that suggested he knew exactly what this car was doing for me. This time I let the gasp slip past my lips.

  “Did you hear that firing sequence? 1-2-4-5-3. OMactualG.”

  “It’s pretty brilliant, yeah?” There was a hint of laughter in his voice, along with something else I couldn’t quite put my finger on, especially with half my brain literally melting over this car.

  “Brilliant? Brilliant? That doesn’t even… Sebastian, did you know that people have been modifying this bad boy and hitting 8 on the drag strip? We are sitting behind 354 pound-feet of torque.”

  Sebastian shifted in his seat and cleared his throat. “So you like my car?”

  “I don’t like it, I love it! Don’t even get me started on the updates they made to the body kit to give this model an even more streamlined design.” If this were a television show, those cartoon hearts would have been pouring from my eyes. I might have discovered the one thing I found more attractive than Sebastian.

  “The 400 horsepower doesn’t hurt either,” he chimed in, lovingly caressing the dash.

  “Yeah,” I sighed dreamily. “My grandpa would love to get his hands on this engine. Hey! Do you think I could take a little peek under the hood sometime? I promise I won’t touch anything. Okay, that’s a lie. I promise I won’t mess with anything.”

  I was prepared to beg, borrow, and steal to get my paws on that engine, which might be necessary since my request appeared to physically pain Sebastian. He adjusted his position again, making me wonder if the driver’s seat was uncomfortable to sit in.

  “Yeah, absolutely. Any time, love.” His voice sounded gruff. Some people were super weird about their cars. Who was I to judge? And honestly, if this were my car, I didn’t know if I’d be thrilled with the idea of someone poking around under the hood. “You mentioned your grandpa; is he into cars?’

  “Yeah, he loves cars,” I answered, half-distracted and covetously eyeballing the torque, boost, and power gages. My environmentally friendly car had none of those things, but the gas mileage totally made up for it. Yes, totally made up for it, because saving the Earth was sexy—or at least it had been until five minutes ago when I’d felt the rumble of this monster.

  “Is that where you get your love of cars from?” His question forced me out of my lustful thoughts about his car.

  “Definitely. My grandpa and uncle actually own a garage. Harrison and I spent a lot of weekends there as kids when my mom had to work. He always used to have a project in his garage at our house, too, and he let me help with them. He’s probably the reason I became an engineer.” Without my being aware of it, my hand had been absently tracing the scar bisecting my chest. I lowered it back to my lap. “Now he mostly tinkers with appliances that people bring him to fix.”

  We rode in silence for a while, me listening to the sounds of the engine being piped into the cab, and Sebastian thinking about who knows what. I was the one who ended up speaking first.

  “What about you? You obviously have an appreciation for superior automobiles.”

  He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye.

  “I’m not an aerospace engineer by any stretch, but I do have a healthy appreciation for a well-made car.”

  I looked over at him, trying to sort through the dozens of questions swimming around in my head, all vying for airtime.

  “Where did your love of cars come from?” I paused, trying to think of the right way to phrase what I wanted to say next. “I guess I’m imagining most of your focus being on soccer. Er, football.”

  The corner of his mouth ticked up.

  “You’re not entirely wrong. There’s a show on the BBC that was popular when I was growing up, Top Gear, that my dad loved. We only had one TV growing up, so we all watched whatever Mum or Dad wanted to watch in the evenings. I watched a lot of Top Gear when I was home.”

  “Before you went to the youth training camps?” I asked before my brain could catch up with my mouth. I felt the heat crawl up my neck and flood my face. If I had a time machine, I would have gone back ten seconds so Sebastian would never find out what a stalker I had turned into since meeting him.

  He tore his eyes off the road to hit me with a cocky grin. “You looked me up.”

  I looked down at my hands, suddenly very interested in what was happening with the hem of my shirt.

  “It was a purely academic endeavor. I had no idea who you were and that bothered me, so don’t let it go to your head.”

  He huffed out a laugh. “Thanks for that. You know how to chop a bloke off at the knees.”

  I made a mental note to look up the expression ‘to chop one off at the knees.’ From the context clues, I assumed it had something to do with humility, a concept I wouldn’t have thought Sebastian was familiar with until I’d gotten to know him.

  We made it out of the hellish LA traffic onto an open stretch of highway. Sebastian effortlessly navigated around the few cars in front of us and then accelerated with an ease that made me feel lighthearted.

  “You didn’t learn how to drive like that from a TV show.” My voice came out sounding breathless, with an unmistakable note of awe thrown in. I couldn’t even be sorry about it. He had earned that awe.

  He just smiled and rested his elbow on his knee in a pose I found inexplicably sexy. I leaned my head against the head rest, rolling my head slightly so I could take Sebastian in without being too obvious about it. He was dressed casually, in a dark blue Henley and a pair of jeans that gripped his thighs in a way that made me irrationally jealous. The dark blue of his shirt highlighted the ink that was visible on his forearms thanks to the haphazard way he had shoved up the sleeves. Everything about this man was so effortlessly handsome, from the way it looked like he had simply run his fingers through his hair to the light stubble that dusted his strong jawline. Even his cologne was just strong enough to make my ovaries sit up and take notice, but not so strong that it filled the small interior of the car. And I was alone with him in this
powerhouse on wheels, making easy conversation and sneaking eyefuls.

  I was suddenly very much looking forward to the car ride ahead of us.

  35.

  Thirty or so minutes later, we turned onto Will’s street. I took in the driveway already filled with cars, and the line of cars that stretched down one side of the street. Shorts. I hadn’t even thought about the parking situation—but in my defense, I hadn’t expected Sebastian to pick me up in such an expensive car. Not that the Porsche Cayman he had picked me up in for our football game was small change either, but I was used to seeing Porsches cruising the streets of LA.

  “Oh no—Sebastian, I’m so sorry. If you drop me off, I’ll run in and ask Will if you can park in a neighbor’s driveway.”

  “What are you on about? There’s plenty of room on the street,” he said, sounding genuinely confused by the panic evident in my voice.

  “You cannot park this car on the street! What if someone tries to steal it? Or sideswipes it? What if a kid hits a baseball and it breaks a window? What if—”

  “Lennon, relax, love. It’s just a car. Nothing you listed is fatal.” He expertly maneuvered the car between a Honda with patches of rust and an older model Ford.

  These were my people, and I was afraid Sebastian was going to be as out of place amongst them as his car so clearly was. I hesitated a minute, trying to force myself to calm down, before exiting the vehicle.

  “I love this car. Do you remember when we were little, how kids used to say ‘If you love it why don’t you marry it?’ I would, Sebastian. I would marry this car even though I’m positive that would be illegal in all fifty states and probably some territories,” I told him as he joined me on the passenger’s side. I meant every single word. I’d put a ring on it in a heartbeat.

  He let loose an incredulous laugh that I felt all the way in the tips of my toes. He placed his hand on the small of my back and gently propelled me away from the real love of my life and toward the driveway.

  “I tell you what, I’ll let you drive home if you feel up to it.”

  If I was lucky, one day I would be telling our kids the story of how their parents met. I imagined they would ask me when I knew I loved their dad, and I would tell them it was this moment. The moment he offered to let me drive the car I couldn’t afford in this lifetime or the next twelve. My poor heart never stood a chance.

  We made our way up the driveway in silence. Sebastian was walking so close to me that I could feel the heat from his body being absorbed by my own. It was doing nothing for the horde of bats that were pinging around in my stomach. I suddenly couldn’t remember why I’d thought inviting him was a good idea. I knew this was not Sebastian’s idea of a good time, but I was a greedy, greedy Gus who wanted more time with him. And maybe—if I was being honest—I wanted to see if he would try to fit into my world like I was trying to do for him.

  A huge cutout picture of Gandalf—the Grey, not the White—was taped to the door along with a sign that said “You Shall Not Pass (just kidding, come on in).” Will was always so fantastically nerdcore. I snuck a quick glance at Sebastian to see if he was completely horrified.

  “Wow, he’s really gone all out,” Sebastian commented, opening the door for me and giving me a smile completely devoid of judgment. I released a small breath that might have sounded like a laugh.

  “Yeah, Will’s kind of famous for his themed movie and game nights. I’ve been to a Marvel Marathon and a Game of Thrones night that were pretty intense. I saw two Cerseis get into a fight with a Daenerys.” Someone dressed as Frodo walked by, offering us a hello as he went. I watched Sebastian take in the Frodo impersonator and the other people scattered through the part of the house we could see, who were all sporting different costumes.

  “Should I have dressed up? I feel like the one kid not wearing a costume at Halloween.” He looked down at his normal clothing and then over at my Tolkien shirt. I could have sworn he looked a little nervous.

  I blame what I did next on the deep understanding I have for the feeling of being the odd one out. I threw my arms around his abdomen and squeezed him to me. I felt those strong arms wrap around my back, pulling me even closer. I let myself linger there for one beat and then another, loving the way I was surrounded by the warmth of him. I leaned back just enough to unbury my face from that glorious chest.

  “You look perfect. I’m not really into cosplay or LARPing. There’s nothing wrong with it.” I shrugged, feeling the need to defend my people. “It’s just not my thing.”

  One hand left my back to straighten my glasses.

  “That’s good, because I’m not too keen on the idea of dressing up like a hobbit, if I’m honest.”

  “Lennon, you made it!” Will’s voice burst my bubble.

  I stepped out of Sebastian’s arms to greet Will. It did not escape my notice that one of Sebastian’s hands found its way to my hip. Will was dressed as Gimli, which was a fantastic choice for him. He was vertically challenged with unruly red hair and a matching beard. If I hadn’t known better, I would have thought he had been preparing for this moment all his life.

  “Hey, Will. Your costume is pretty amazing.” I motioned to Sebastian. “This is my friend Sebastian. Sebastian, this is Will. He belongs to the same dojo as Janie.”

  Sebastian stuck out his hand. “Nice to meet you, mate.”

  “Great accent!” Will batted his ax out of the way to shake hands with Sebastian. “Where are you from?”

  “Manchester,” Sebastian replied matter-of-factly.

  “Awesome. I studied abroad in England for a semester and it was amazing. I’d love to go back. Do you guys want a drink? Marley and I started brewing our own beer and we made a special miruvor brew for today.” He waved us into the kitchen where half of the Fellowship were involved in a boardgame.

  “I’d love to try it!” I leaned toward Sebastian to whisper, “Marley is Will’s wife and miruvor was a special drink given to Gandalf by Elrond, Lord of Rivendell.”

  Judging by the expression on Sebastian’s face, that speech did nothing to clear up his confusion.

  “So should I drink it or not?” he whispered back to me.

  “Definitely. In Lord of the Rings, miruvor had the power to grant renewed vigor and strength. I don’t know what the version brewed in Will’s garage is capable of, but I’m betting it will at least give you a mild buzz.”

  Sebastian chuckled, his breath setting my perpetual fly-aways into motion. Will handed us each an unlabeled bottle.

  “So, Sebastian, what brings you stateside?” Will asked before Sebastian had a chance to take a drink.

  “I was traded to the Novas from United.”

  “Cool, you play soccer. I used to dabble myself,” Will said, fake dusting off his shoulder. I have never wanted to throat punch someone more in my life, and I’d grown up with Harrison. My head swiveled from Will to Sebastian, desperately thinking of something to say to distract from Will’s totally idiotic comment.

  Sebastian looked momentarily taken aback, but recovered much more quickly than I did. He gave Will one of his half-grins that somehow managed to convey interest without a trace of the condescension he was entitled to, because clearly whatever the hot sauce Will had dabbled in, it was not even remotely equivalent to being a professional player.

  “Yeah? Always happy to meet a fellow footballer. What’d you play?” Sebastian asked. I wondered if it was his years of interacting with fans that allowed him to continue this conversation with a smile on his face.

  Will blinked at him. “Uh, I played soccer.”

  “It’s actually called football, so…” I felt the need to correct Will, and my hackles were starting to rise. I took a sip of my ale and my esophagus promptly did a ‘heck no’ and rejected the pungent liquid. I sputtered into my elbow, tears welling in my eyes. Holy mackerel, this stuff was truly terrible. Sebastian was giving me a concerned look, and I motioned to the bottle in my hand with a discreet shake of my head.

  “I mea
nt, what position did you play?” Sebastian turned his attention back to Will, which gave me a chance to wipe at the tears in my eyes. This stuff was not giving anyone vigor or strength.

  “Oh right,” Will laughed. “I’m a few ales in already, if you know what I mean. I mostly played goalie.”

  “What up, my fellow uncostumed homies!” Janie appeared at the top of the basement stairs. She was wearing a hunter green tank top that said “Where the Halflings Are” that I was very jealous of. It had the picture of the Wild Things at the rumpus, but the Wild Things were hobbits. So fantastic.

  I rolled my eyes but couldn’t keep the smile off my face. “Your shirt is amazing! Sebastian, this is my friend Janie. She also works at Spatium, in accounting.”

  Sebastian shot her one of his signature grins. Based on the look on her face, Janie was not immune to its effects either.

  “Nice to meet you, Janie.” He stretched out his hand for a handshake, but Janie ignored his outstretched hand and reached over to squeeze one of his biceps.

  “Wow, these are nice. Not used to this sort of musculature around here.”

  “Janie!” I exclaimed, smacking her hand away. Sebastian was watching her with a bemused expression, much to my relief.

  “I want to apologize but I’d be lying, so how about I just get you both something non-toxic to drink.”

  “That is an acceptable peace offering,” I said, taking the bottle from Sebastian’s hand and placing them both in the garbage.

  “I feel like I should have some say in this, since it was my biceps,” Sebastian pointed out.

  “Trust me, I just saved your life,” Janie said, handing us both new drinks sporting a brand-name label. “It’s an ale so it still goes with the theme, but it won’t strip your insides like turpentine,” she continued. “Greg and I saved you two a spot on a couch downstairs. Unless you want to join a twelve-hour board game?”