Time (Laws of Physics #3)(24)
My grin widened and I closed my eyes again. “It is.”
“Wait! I know a joke about it, though. Why should you always use protection when having phone sex?”
I pressed my lips into a flat line so I wouldn’t laugh before she got to the punchline. “I don’t know. Why?”
“Otherwise you might get hearing aids.”
A beat of silence.
I rolled my eyes. “That’s a terrible joke.”
“Yeah. It’s pretty bad. I was on a call once with the CDC and an immunologist told it. I think medical doctors have the most inappropriate jokes.” She laughed. “But you know, they still crack me up. Does that make me a bad person?”
“What? No. No, you are not a bad person.”
“I often worry.”
“Why would you worry about that? You’re one of the best people I know.”
“I think it’s good to worry about being a bad person. It’s good to question yourself, you know?” She asked this question like she was confessing something about herself, a secret, and I wished again that my brain didn’t feel so slow.
“You don’t need to question whether you’re a good person. Take my word for it, okay?”
“Have you ever read Bertrand Russell?”
“No. Who is that?”
“He was a mathematician. Anyway, he said, ‘Those who feel certainty are stupid, and those with any imagination and understanding are filled with doubt and indecision.’ I think that’s especially true with knowing oneself. As soon as you grow certain of something, you’ve closed your mind to other possibilities.”
I was too tired to give the words the consideration they deserved, so I said without thinking, “Then I guess I’m stupid for you.”
A short beat, and then she replied quietly, “That’s a relief.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yes. Because I didn’t want to be the only one of us who was stupid.” The tenderness in her voice had me imagining her face, her smile, her eyes.
My heart constricted painfully, I lost my breath for a moment, overwhelmed by how much I wanted . . . I just wanted . . .
I want her to be here.
Before I could catch myself, I said, “I miss you. So much.”
Her laugh tapered, and I heard her release a soft breath before responding earnestly, “I miss you too.”
7
Stellar Parallax
Abram
“Here you go, Mr. Fletcher.” A PA hired by our manager, this one also happened to be his niece, placed a cup of tea in front of me, giving me a nervous smile. “I put honey and lemon in it, just how you like.”
“Thank you,” I whispered, distractedly picking up the cup while I flipped through the list of interview questions for later in the day.
Seconds later, the sound of items clattering to the ground had me glancing up. The items were photos of the band and black markers for signing them. She must’ve bumped into the stool where they sat, but she also must’ve done something else, like push the stack at an odd angle, because they were now everywhere.
“Oh God. Sorry.” She squatted, flushing red, and worked to gather the fallen items. “Sorry about that.”
I stood, sending a look to Charlie.
Charlie stepped up. “Don’t worry. Abram and I will pick it up.”
“It’s fine.” Her voice was high. Clearly, she was embarrassed. “I’m almost done.”
She wasn’t almost done. The photos had gone flying in all directions, falling like confetti. Thankfully, Charlie had already moved to her and helped gather the photographs. I crossed to where the markers had rolled—just under the couch—and bent to retrieve them.
As I straightened and turned, I caught her staring at me, her gaze in the vicinity of my stomach, her eyes dazed. Combatting a spike of frustration, I cleared my throat. Her gaze lifted. She seemed to smirk, her eyes heating suggestively.
What the hell? I grit my teeth.
“Hey. What happened?” Ruthie’s greeting pulled everyone’s attention to the door of our shared suite. We all had our own suites, but this one was larger. It was where the band gathered over these last few days—to meet, to give interviews, to take photos and whatnot—leading up to the LA concert.
Our guitarist, standing just inside the suite door, frowned at the mess, bending to pick up one of the photos near her feet. “Are we signing these or what?”
“Yes, yes. It was my fault,” the PA said, pushing her hand through her hair. “I’m so clumsy.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Charlie took the photos from her, added them to his stack, and brought them to the table. “I don’t know why they were on the stool anyway. Could’ve happened to anyone.”
Walking past the woman to the square kitchen table, I felt her eyes on me. Just as I reclaimed my seat and Ruthie took the spot next to mine, the PA tripped over her own feet as she walked backward. And then, instead of clearing the door, she bumped into the wall.
Finally, she turned, tucking her hair behind her ears and walked from the suite.
“She’s got it bad for you, Abram.” Ruthie kicked me under the square table. I shifted my gaze to her, and she lifted her chin toward the tea. “Did she make you that tea? I wouldn’t drink that if I were you.”