The Science of Loving (4 page)

“I can’t believe you just did that.” I glanced around hoping no one had noticed, only to find Danny watching us; apparently fascinated by our exchange while a couple of her friends gave me hard looks. He enveloped me in a hug, laughter rumbling out of him. Not the polite chortles that I was accustomed to, but a full-bodied laugh that started in the belly; so contagious you wanted to laugh along even if you weren’t in on the joke. As his laughter wound down to a caressing chuckle, I subtly sniffed his cotton tee shirt. God, he smelled good. Traces of fabric softener and deodorant tickled my nose as he cuddled me, his hand cupping the back of my head.

“So Angie.” I squirmed as he tried to catch my eye. “Who are you?” His question was like a slap.

“Nobody special.”
Unlike you
.

Bending down must’ve been uncomfortable because he straightened, and trapped my face between his palms. He slid his thumbs under my chin, tilting it up. I studied the harsh cast of his features, his grip didn’t allow me to look anywhere else. Perfection didn’t belong there. On any other face his lips would’ve been too wide, too full, but on him they were necessary to balance the stubborn squareness of his jaw, the high bridge of his nose and his large flaring nostrils. Black, finely arched eyebrows added an intensity to deeply set eyes that looked cruel until you saw the humor sparkling in their depths. Even his ears were big, but anything smaller would’ve looked misshapen on that large, shiny head.

He was a beautiful pagan god with the voice of a serial killer, but that didn’t make him any less god like. It just meant rather than dying in some dank basement or isolated cabin, I’d die bound on an altar as part of some gruesome sacrificial rite. Exsanguinating while he stood over my naked body with my blood dripping from an obsidian blade.

As we studied each other, all my insecurities bubbled to the surface. I knew I wasn’t the type men like him were attracted to, not on my own. My looks were unremarkable; although, I’d been told if I tried harder, I might be able to fake pretty. My interests were incomprehensible, and conversation with me was mind numbingly dull. Fruit flies weren’t exactly sexy. I closed my eyes, knowing I needed to get out of here before I made a bigger fool of myself.

I stood in front of her, my hands gripping the counter on either side of her legs to keep her from being jostled. Somebody had done a real number on her. The way she said ‘Nobody special’ broke my heart—
who made you feel like you were nobody?

I closed my eyes, rubbing my nose in her soft hair. I didn’t know what shampoo she used, but it smelled really good, like fresh melon. I bent down, pushing my forehead against hers; I wanted her to look me, but she resisted—
oh honey, we’re going to have to work on this shyness of yours—
I held her face so she couldn’t hide. She had such expressive eyes, and when a blush stole sweetly across her cheeks, I knew I was a goner. I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to dine on her lips and worship every inch of her body.

I shook my head. “You can do better than that, sweetness.”

“I grow fruit flies.”
Okay, wasn’t expecting that.

“Fruit flies?” She shrank.
What does she think I’m going to do?

“For medical research, they possess about seventy-five percent of the genes commonly associated with human diseases. Right now we’re studying the ones involved with muscle disorders.”

“Hey, that’s cool. So you’re a scientist?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, she’s way more than just a science geek,” Danny chimed in, leaning a hip against the island next to us. “She’s like this mechanical genius. She can fix just about anything. That’s how we met.”

“Oh yeah?”
Oh, sweetness, there’s much more to you than meets the eye.

“I guess I’m handy.”

“Handy? Picture this.” Danny started in like she was Rod Serling and this was an episode of
The Twilight Zone.
“It’s late afternoon. It’s raining. Waiting on the side of the road is a stranded motorist when fate decides to intervene in the form of a tiny girl driving a muscle car.”
Hold on, she drives a muscle car? Okay Danny, I may have to forgive you for Ashley.

Danny left
The Twilight Zone,
continuing normally. “So, I got the hood up and I’m looking at my engine. Why? I don’t know. I don’t know shit about engines—hey, Lurch, we both know you’re not any better—anyway, this midget comes over and asks if I need help. I’m stuck on the side of the road in the rain. Hello, of course I need help. ‘All right,’ she says. Just like that; like it’s no big deal.”

At this point Danny’s shaking her head in wonder. “So she tells me to get in the car and try to start it. The car kind of coughs and rattles. When it starts shaking like a wet dog, she tells me to turn it off and does something behind the hood. She yells for me to try again. And damn if the bitch didn’t start right up. Then she tells me we have to go to Pepboys. Once we get there, she goes inside and comes out a few minutes later with some car stuff and starts ripping the guts out of my car. Gotta tell you, I was kinda worried when those wires started flying. She was savage… She put the new ones in, and it’s run great ever since.”

Danny’s smug expression told me I was gaping, but you have to understand, my family’s mechanical ineptitude falls on a catastrophic scale: Fires, floods, explosions. We’re so bad, my grandfather once called a priest to perform an exorcism on his tools. “So, you’re a gear head.”

“I like older cars. They’re simpler to work on. The newer ones are all about computers and you need specialized tools,” Angie said. She’d stopped fidgeting; she was definitely more comfortable talking about cars. Unfortunately, Danny was right; I could barely pump gas.

“So what kind of car do you drive?”

“A ‘67 Shelby GT 500. It’s a mustang.”

“So wait, you grow fruit flies to study muscles and you drive a muscle car?” I put her hands on my guns and flexed, rattling off the cheesiest line I could think of. “I guess I’m gonna have to hit the gym if I want to keep you interested, what with your obsession with muscles and all.” Her blush was so pretty I decided I was going to make her blush every chance I got.

“I really do need to go.” She pushed at me trying to get enough room to slide off the counter.

“But tomorrow’s Saturday.” Danny pouted. “What’s so important that you can’t stay and get shit-faced with us?”

“Oh, I have this meet and greet for work tomorrow. It’s going to be awful.”

“It’s a party right? How bad can it be?”

“My mom’s in charge.”

“Oh.”

“Something wrong with Mom?” I asked Danny.

“Remember that movie
Mommy Dearest
?”

“Oh, come on, she’s not that bad. Wire hangers have never been an issue.” Angie looked up at me. “She has a habit of ambushing me at these things with guys she thinks are perfect for me. She’s just a force of nature, and it can be a bit overwhelming.”

“You just need someone to give you shelter. So, what time are you picking me up?” I looked down at her as if it was a done deal—
that’s right, sweetheart; you’re not leaving until you agree to go out with me—
and there was no way I was letting some asshole her mother found anywhere near her. She looked at Danny all wide-eyed and flustered—
no help there sweetness—
Danny was all but doing a victory dance. I moved back slightly so she could get off the counter. I left just enough space so she had to slide against my body then trapped her against the island. I wasn’t oblivious to the effect my body had on women, and I wasn’t above using it—all’s fair, right? “Time sweetness?”

“Ummm… 11:00?” She was talking to her feet again.

I pulled my upper body back to look at her as I pinned her with my hips. “What was that, sweetheart?”

“Would 11:00 be all right with you?” she stammered, glancing up then away.

I smiled. “11:00 would be perfect.”

“Okay, then…” She tried to rally her confidence as she squeeze by me. “Thanks for the blowjob.”

I chuckled, giving her a one armed hug, nuzzling her hair. “Sweetness, I’d be happy to give you all the blowjobs you can handle.”

I walked her out to her car. Even in the dark I could tell it was a sweet ride, all shiny paint and chrome. I couldn't wait to see it in daylight. I opened the door then helped her with the seatbelt after she got in, just so I could smell her hair one last time.

I grinned; I think she was in shock. “Breathe.” She was about to learn her mom wasn’t the only force of nature.

Danny was gloating at the door when I came back. “Quietly hot. Yeah, I get that now.”

“Uh huh, and she has a great personality too.”

“C’mon sis,” I said, hooking my arm around her neck, “This calls for another Blowjob.”

CHAPTER TWO

Red Dresses and Rock Stars

I was a mess. I tore through my closet in an underwear-clad rampage. My underwear was the only part of my wardrobe I didn't agonize over, and it wasn’t because no one ever saw it. I had really nice underwear—really nice. It became my secret obsession after a teenage me read V.C Andrews’
Flowers in the Attic—
today’s guilty pleasures were a lacy, moss green, Donna Beatrice balconette bra, and matching Brazilian briefs.

My eyes kept returning to the red dare hanging in the corner. I stood on a precipice. There was an angel on my shoulder insisting it was too brazen, and a devil poking me my behind, urging me to take the plunge. This was my one shot. I may never have another chance with a guy like this. I didn’t date hot, serial killer, pagan gods. My dates were either social losers like myself, who desperately tried too hard, or entitled assholes who expected me to be grateful. But the desperate-assholes my mother seemed to find were the worst. Not only did they try too hard to impress everyone around us, they felt I should be grateful enough to immediately fall on their dicks since I obviously couldn’t get a date without my mother’s help. And they were after all, doing me a huge favor.
Really?

Defeated, I heard my doorbell just when I’d just begun picking though the jumble of discarded garments on my bed to find plan-A: A grey pencil skirt with a black cowl neck jersey top. I pulled on a robe as it rang again, followed by loud banging. Dodging the clothing strewn about my room, I raced to answer it.

“Get out of bed bitch! It’s time to get your sexy on.” Oh God, Danny was going to wake my neighbors. As soon as I fumbled the locks open, she burst in like a tornado.

“Here, I brought coffee.” She shoved a Starbucks cup at me then bounced around my apartment like a pinball.
Geez, how much coffee had she already had?

“What are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to help you get ready for your hot date,” she said, making her eyebrows do funny things. “I gotta tell you
chiquita
, Mat really likes you.”
He really likes me?

“Why?”

“Who knows what lies in the hearts of men? And more importantly, who cares so long as they open our jars and kill spiders? I hate those creepy things.” Danny shuddered. “Too many legs. And eyes. They have like eight of them.” She bounded down the hall to my bedroom, her voice trailing back. “Sooo… Whatcha wearing?”

“A robe?”

“Oh, so you’re gonna play it like that, miss smarty.” She tossed over her shoulder as she rooted around in my closet, tossing garments on the floor much as I’d done earlier. “Besides, you could do worse. Under all my badass ink is a really nice guy, but if you ever tell him I said that, I’ll have to hurt you. Just saying— Jesus, does your grandma know you stole all her clothes?” she muttered. “Whoa… What’s this? Oh, yeah, Mama like.”

Danny pulled out the red dare. I’d bought it after making a New Year’s resolution to be more like—I don’t know—just more. It was my one and only harlot dress. It was what I saw in my mind’s eye whenever I heard that Reba McIntyre song, “Fancy:” A vintage, formfitting, hooker-red halter back dress with a slit to mid-thigh and a sweetheart neckline. I even bought some red and black CMF stilettos to go with it, not that I’d ever had the courage to wear them.