“Not even a little bit,” Abuela says. “Renzo and I will just stay here at the hotel and wait for you kids to come back.”
“I don’t know when that will be,” I tell her. “Are you sure?”
“As long as they have cable, I’ll watch my telenovelas while Abuelo watches midget tag team wrestling or whatever nonsense he’s into these days.”
My grandfather grumbles, “I need a nap first.”
“Do you mind if we take your car?” I ask my grandmother after he leaves. “Ben and I were thinking of renting one, but if you’re not using yours, we might as well use that.”
Grabbing the keys out of her purse, Abuela hands them to me with a wink. “You know your grandfather and I had sex before we were married.”
I have no words.
“It’s a natural part of life, nieta. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”
Ben walks in at that moment, so Abuela turns her attention to him. “I was just telling Sera that I support the two of you having relations before you’re married.”
His gaze shifts nervously between her and me before saying, “Uh … thank you?”
Abuela walks up to him, stands on her tippy toes and kisses him on the cheek before adding, “Welcome to the family, Ben.” Then she walks down the hall to join Abuelo.
I have no idea in this world how to make things normal between me and Ben again. Not only did I literally jump the man’s bones, but my grandmother has pretty much insinuated that we’ll be announcing our engagement soon.
Ben says, “I suppose after we leave the Space Center today, we should go pick out rings.”
What?!?
His eyes twinkle with merriment as he adds, “I assume the scene this morning was your way of proposing?” He stares at me in earnest for a moment, then finally lets me off the hook by laughing.
“Oh, ha ha!” I grab a handful of napkins from the counter and throw them at him. “This morning was the singular most embarrassing moment of my entire life.”
He forces his features into an exaggerated frown. “That’s too bad. I was going to say it was a highpoint in mine.” He picks the napkins up off the floor. “You ready to go?”
I dangle the car keys in front of him. “I figured we’d take my grandparents’ car. That way they won’t be driving around today.”
“Do you mind grabbing breakfast there? I want to spend as much time as I can at the mothership.”
Smiling at him, I say, “You’re like a little boy in a candy shop there, huh?”
“It’s pretty much my everything,” he says, sounding like a starstruck teenage girl talking about her favorite rock star.
We don’t say much on the drive to Cape Canaveral, but it’s not a weird silence like you might expect after I threw myself at him this morning. Instead, it’s a pleasant quiet, like we’re simply enjoying being together.
After parking, we walk toward the main entrance. I get the same thrilling rush I always got as a kid coming here. Walking under the giant letters that spell “Explore,” with an array of past rocket ships displayed in the rocket garden just beyond fills my being with such hope and excitement about the stars, I can barely stand it.
When Ben gives our names to a woman behind the counter, she types away at her computer before saying, “Ah, yes, Dr. Williams, someone will be arriving in a few minutes to greet you.”
I nudge him in the arm and say, “You’re a VIP here, huh? How cool is that?”
“I’m pretty sure it has more to do with Wake Up America! than with me.”
Then we both hear a voice call out, “Benjamin Williams, as I live and breathe!”
A nice-looking man approaches us with a big smile on his face. I’m about to offer him a wave when Ben mutters beneath his breath, “Anyone but him…”
“Friend of yours?” I ask.
“Not even close.”
Twenty-Eight
Ben
Well, this is just perfect. Patrick Ennis, the Darth Maul to my Obi Wan, is here. He and I went to MIT together and we always battled for the top spot in every class. I have such a strong hatred for this man, that I paid the MIT yearbook editor a hundred dollars to put only Patrick’s first initial under his picture, so it ended up spelling “P. Ennis.” Immature I know, but he had just told a girl I was trying to date that I only had one testicle and it kept me from performing like a man, so…
Anyway, three years ago, we were both up for a lead researcher position here at Kennedy, and sadly, evil won that day. I was really hoping to avoid him while I was here because I can’t stand another “friendly” conversation about how much better his life is than mine. He’s all over the astrophysics forums going on and on about his “Star Life in Florida.”
“Patrick,” I say with a quick nod. “Good to see you.” FYI, that’s said in the same tone that I’d use to declare, “Yay, liver and onion on my hot fudge sundae.” I’m not asking him how he is because I don’t really care, and I also don’t want to give him an opportunity to gloat.
“You too,” he answers. “I see they’ve got you doing a dog and pony show on morning television.” He bursts out laughing like it’s the best joke he’s heard in his life. But I suppose in a way, it is. My face heats up as I realize he’s seen me in my banana pants. God, strike me dead right now. I mean it. Right. Now.
“Just doing my part to further NASA’s public profile.”
“You sure about that, Dr. Banana Pants?” he asks, then slaps me on the arm as if to mean he’s just goofing around.
If I’m near this man for another second, I may snap and karate chop him right in the neck. “Anyway, we’ve got to run, but you are … exactly as I remember you,” I tell him with a deadpan expression.
Ignoring my attempt at brushing him off, he says, “I never thought I’d see your ugly mug here at Kennedy. What, are you on vacation so you thought you’d come for a tour?” He laughs at his own joke while I contemplate his slow and painful dismemberment.
“I’m here for the TRAPPIST-1 Conference.”
He’s already so bored, he’s not even looking at me. Instead, he’s eying Serafina like she’s a freeze-dried salmon treat and he’s Mr. Spock (my cat, not the television character). “Nice,” he answers, even though he clearly couldn’t care less. “This must be your lovely co-host, Serafina Lopez.”
He picks up her hand and brushes a kiss on her knuckles like he’s Rico Suave. Serafina yanks it away with a look of total disgust. He tells her, “Oh, you’re as feisty in person as you are on TV. I like that.”
Before I can put him in a full nelson and bang his head into a wall, Serafina loops her arm through mine and says, “So does my Benny.”
His face falls and he points back and forth between us. “You expect me to believe you’re with him?”
“I don’t care what you believe,” she says. “As long as I wake up every morning next to this stud muffin, that’s really all that matters.” She glances up at me and bats her eyes before turning back to him. “I can’t get enough of him. In fact, we didn’t even make it into the bedroom last night, did we, sugar lips?”
I could kiss her for this. Instead, I smile at her before turning my attention to Patrick. “It’s true. We spent the night on the living room floor in our suite.”
“Gross,” he says, but I can tell by his expression, he’s filled with envy.
Serafina says, “When I want him, I have to have him right that second. Doesn’t matter where we are.”
Patrick looks decidedly nauseous and it’s all I can do not to laugh out loud when Serafina adds, “I don’t suppose you’d mind if we used your office today? You know, in case Ben gets a break from the conference?”
“I’m not … no … ew … you can’t … I don’t allow that kind of thing in my office.” Patrick adds, “There is no sex in my office. I mean, I’m the only one who can have sex in my office. Me, alone.” He says that just as two women with NASA lanyards around their neck walk by. They both start to giggle, and Patrick turns br
ight red.
“It’s a lot more fun with a partner,” I tell him.
“So much more fun,” Serafina says, resting her head on my shoulder. “Anyway, I’m starving, babe, and you promised me breakfast before you have to get to work.”
“Right,” I tell her. “She needs to replenish her energy for later. See you, Pat. Have a good one.”
With that, I take Serafina’s hand and we start in the direction of the cafeteria, both of us trying desperately not to laugh until we’re out of earshot. Holding her hand gives me such a warm feeling, like hot cocoa on a cold winter day. Oh boy, I’m in trouble here.
When we round the corner, I don’t let go of her, even though I should. “Thank you for that,” I tell her in a quiet voice.
Serafina grins up at me. “You’re very welcome. That guy needed to be brought down a peg or six.”
“You accomplished that swiftly and effectively.”
“It’s the Libra way.” She takes a step toward me and for a split second I think we might be about to kiss right there in front of the Orbit Café, but a family walks out and nearly runs us over. Talk about a buzzkill.
With my hand on Serafina’s back, I lead her into the restaurant. We enjoy a quick breakfast of scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast, while we rehash the fun we had sticking it to Patrick.
“How long do you suppose it’ll be before everyone in the building knows he has sex with himself in his office?” she asks as she slathers some strawberry jelly onto her toast.
“Hopefully, by lunch time,” I tell her with a grin.
“Fingers crossed.” She takes a bite of her toast.
“What are you going to do around here all day?” I ask her.
“I’m going to walk around with the film crew and talk about the early connections between astronomy and astrology,” she says, her face morphing into trepidation.
I’m pretty sure she’s expecting a snide comment from me, but at the moment, I have no desire to try to persuade her away from the dark side. “That’ll be really fascinating for the viewers.”
“You mean the wackadoodle ones, right?”
“No, everyone. I’m sure you know far more than I do about astrological connections,” I tell her. “I kind of wish I could skip my thing and go around with you.” Huh, oddly enough, that’s true.
“Really?” Serafina asks, giving me a skeptical look.
“Really.” Yup, I’ve got it bad because that’s the least logical thing I’ve ever said.
“Does that have anything to do with our early morning wake-up call?”
“While that was very nice, I’m actually interested in what you have to say.” Grinning, I add, “But … this morning’s … activities didn’t hurt matters.”
Serafina smiles at me and blushes a little, then she shakes her head a little as if trying to get back her focus. “Okay, the film crew should be showing up any minute, so I better go out front to meet them.”
“Right, yeah,” I tell her, unable to look away. “I should also go to that thing I’m here for…” What again? I’ve gone totally blank.
“The TRAPPIST-1 Conference?”
“That’s the one.”
We both stand and I take our trays to the garbage. After unloading everything, we walk out and turn to each other. I completely forget where I am and who we really are to each other, and almost give her a quick peck on the lips before catching myself.
Sera bites her bottom lip. “Text me when you’re done, and we can figure out where to meet.”
I nod my head mutely. I want to kiss her. Badly. But this is not the time or the place. “Have a great day,” I tell her as I watch her walk away.
Suddenly I know without a shadow of a doubt that I will kiss this woman properly before we leave Florida.
Twenty-Nine
Serafina
I spend the morning and the first part of the afternoon with a producer and cameraman who are on loan from a local affiliate. I talk about the planets that govern the different star signs and how their position in the heavens affects the personality traits of the people who were born under them. I share how amazing it is when you connect with the zodiac because it not only helps you understand yourself, it helps you to grow as a person. There’s no word from Ben until two in the afternoon.
DrBananaPants: Hey, just finishing up. How about if you meet me by the Saturn V rocket and I can tell our viewers the details of how we can launch such a massive rocket into space.
* * *
LibraGrl: Sounds great, we’ll meet you there.
I tell Drake, the producer with board shorts and a ponytail, what the plan is, but instead of looking enthused, he says, “Yawn. No one tunes into morning television to hear a lecture.”
He looks around for a second, his eyes landing on the area where families are dressing up in space suits and having their pictures taken against a green screen. “That!” he says, “That’ll be fun for the audience.”
He’s not wrong. I’ve done this before and it’s a real hoot. The green screen image is transcribed onto outer space backdrops. In one scene they’ll show you in the shuttle; in another you’ll be standing on the moon with an American flag, and they’ve even added one where you’re floating in space.
But poor Ben is going to be disappointed. “Drake, what if you just film the segment about jet propulsion and let Waltraut decide what to use?”
“Kind of a waste of film.”
“How can you know unless you give it a try?”
That seems to have worked because he gives me a shrug that I take as a yes. Ben shows up moments later looking positively delectable. His eyes are burning so bright you’d think he was at Disneyland, not NASA. Although, I suppose for him, this is better than any amusement park. “Hey,” he says, extending his hand toward the producer and camera guy. “I’m Ben.”
“Drake,” the producer says before motioning toward the cameraman. “He’s Tizz, but you don’t need to know that. Just look at the camera and talk to it like it’s your mom.”
“Okay then,” Ben says while positioning himself underneath the Saturn V rocket. “I’ll just talk a little bit about action force versus reaction force and then maybe get into ballistic curves.”
“Can you do it in under thirty seconds?” Drake asks. “Because I can guarantee you people will be changing the channel if it goes longer.”
“No, it’s a complex topic and, to properly lay it out for people, you need at least a couple of minutes.”
“Then let’s move on, okay, Beck?”
“It’s Ben, and I thought the whole point of my being on Wake Up America! was to excite the American people about space travel.”
Urgh. Poor Ben sounds so disappointed.
“You know what will excite them about space travel?” Drake asks.
Ben’s eyes light up. “Newton’s three laws of motion?”
“No,” Drake says, wrinkling up his nose like he just walked in the bathroom after Abuelo was in there. “Seeing you and Serafina dressed up like astronauts. If they can imagine the two of you in space, then they might start imagining themselves. That’s the way to cultivate interest in NASA.”
“You want us to play dress up?”
“A hundo p, man. That’s the way to go.”
Ben looks at me and whispers, “What does that mean?”
“A hundred percent,” I whisper back.
“Playing dress up though? That’s for kids.”
I take his hand and pull him toward the other side of the massive building. “Come on, we’ll have fun, I promise!”
Drake says, “Wait up. Tizz, roll film while they walk over there. Let’s get a real feel for how much fun it is to be at NASA.”
“People come here to learn,” Ben tells him in a schoolmaster tone.
“Wrong,” Drake says. “People come here to imagine. You gotta feed that sense of wonder, man.”
Before Ben can contradict him, because believe me, the look on his face says he’s ready to rumble, I give
his hand a little tug and start toward the photo area. “Come on, Dr. Banana Pants,” I tease him. “Let’s show the American people what a good sport you are.” Even though he seems reticent, he lets me lead the way.
When we get to our destination, Drake talks to the people running it and gets us bumped up to the front of the line. We’re led to a staging area where there’s a rack of costume space suits for us to pick from. Ben looks totally aghast. “We can’t put these on. Do you know how many people wear these things?” Then he looks at the helper and asks, “How often do you clean these?”
The kid shrugs his shoulders. “Got me. But it’s not like they ever really get dirty. People are only in them for a couple of minutes.”
I’ve already picked a jumpsuit out and am putting it over my clothes. “Come on, Ben; it’ll be fun.”
“But I’m wearing loafers. No astronaut would ever wear loafers.”
“I’m wearing sandals,” I tell him. “If you’re worried about looking authentic, you’ll be light-years ahead of me.”
“You can’t wear sandals in space,” he practically shouts. Meanwhile, I look at the camera and see that Tizz is filming all of this. I nudge Ben and point to the camera and wave. “Do it for the fans, Ben.”
I hear him curse under his breath before he forces a smile and says, “Okay … Fun times ahead.” He looks like he’s in actual pain while he puts on his white space suit. The helper leads us to the green screen and says, “In the first shot, we’ll want you to lie down and hold hands with each other. That’ll be your jumping out of the shuttle picture.”
“No one actually jumps out of a space shuttle,” Ben tells the kid. “First, you’re harnessed to a tether that’s connected to the ship and then you gingerly step out into space. There is no jumping.”
“Dude, whatever.” The kid is obviously not impressed by this knowledge.
Ben and I assume the position we’ve been ordered to take, the whole while my co-host complaining, “We don’t even have space helmets on. We’d die within seconds of being exposed to deep space.”
Text Wars: May the Text be With You ... (An Accidentally in Love Story Book 3) Page 15