String Theory

by Ashlyn Kane

He ignored her. “Did we have an appointment I forgot about?” It wouldn’t have been the first time.

  Her face shuttered. “Not exactly. I mean, you don’t have an appointment.” She sat, shoving her hands between her knees in an obvious tell.

  Okay, now he knew it was serious, if she wasn’t asking about who he had in the bedroom. Though who was he kidding—she obviously knew it was Jax. Time to make a shitty decision. “You want to get coffee?”

  He watched in horror as her eyes filled with tears, though thankfully they didn’t overflow. “Yeah,” she said, her voice cracking. “That would actually be great.”

  Okay. So he needed to get dressed… and wake Jax and let him know he was leaving. Not how Ari wanted the morning to go, but Afra wasn’t a crier by nature. Whatever was going on with her was serious.

  “Just… give me a minute.”

  Jax was stirring when Ari went into the bedroom. Afra was right—it did reek of sex.

  Ari sat on the bed next to him and wondered what was appropriate, considering Jax probably wasn’t for messy entanglements. Jax had stayed last night, for Ari, which was thoughtful. Would it be pushing things too much to stroke his cheek to wake him up?

  “Ari?” Jax groaned and stretched. His lashes fluttered, and he gazed sleepily up at Ari. “Morning.”

  “Good morning.” Ari licked his lips and took in Jax’s bare torso, which boasted more than one bruise from last night. He would have to remember that Jax bruised so easily. “I had hoped to feed you this morning and see what else we could get up to in bed”—Jax grinned and wriggled his hips—“but I will have to ask for a rain check. My sister is here, and I don’t know why she’s upset but—”

  “Say no more.” Jax sat up. “Family comes first. I think I legit kicked a guy outside in his underwear once for my sister’s sake.” He gave a shy grin. “So, do you want me to grab my stuff and go? Or am I hiding until your sister leaves?”

  Impulsively, Ari said, “Neither. My sister and I are about to leave for coffee”—he glanced down at himself—“once I’m dressed. Take your time cleaning up. I’ll leave you a key to lock up behind you.” He licked his lips. “I’m not attempting to hide you from my sister, but I’m guessing you don’t want to meet her again in this state.”

  His eyes flicked down once again to the many bruises—hickeys—on Jax’s torso.

  “Erm, yeah, maybe not. I mean, I’m not shy about taking a quote-unquote walk of shame, but not usually around sisters and not usually while half naked. You sure about that key, though?”

  “Jax, I know where you work.”

  “Right.” Jax gave a small smirk.

  “I trust you.” After all, they knew almost all of the same people. “Now I really should go.”

  “Yes, yes.” Jax waved him off and watched silently as Ari collected clothes and stepped into the en suite.

  He took the fastest shower of his life and quickly dressed in his black jeans and T-shirt. When he emerged, Jax was still lounging in the bed and playing on his phone.

  “Take your time,” Ari said, because he felt like he should say something.

  “Don’t worry about me. Get back to Afra. I’ll text later.” Jax waggled his phone.

  Tenderness swept through Ari, and he could not curb the impulse to lean down and kiss Jax’s mouth. “Thank you,” he breathed, “for understanding.”

  “No, uh, no problem,” Jax said somewhat breathlessly. Had Ari made him uncomfortable? Was that too romantic?

  Ari stepped back. “Right. See you later, Jax.”

  Afra got up from the couch when he emerged and said nothing as Ari led her to the door.

  Once outside on the sidewalk, Afra led him toward their favorite local café, where Ari bought them drinks. He waited until they were settled on a relatively isolated park bench to ask, “What’s wrong?”

  “So, kids.” She fiddled with the straw in her iced coffee. Ari waited. He’d never understood how his mother couldn’t see the extent to which the topic pained Afra. “We’ve… we’ve been trying. For a while.”

  “I didn’t know.” He reached out, and she took his hand and squeezed it.

  “I know. We never said—first because we wanted to surprise everyone, and then….” She took a deep breath. “We’ve been doing IVF, but… the first one didn’t take.”

  His chest ached. He didn’t know what to say. “Afra….”

  “I have an appointment today to try again, but if this doesn’t work… I think—know—they’ll tell me we’ve reached the end of the road.” She gave a weak smile, her eyes glassy.

  Ari pulled her into a tight hug. “I am sorry. I wish I could fix this for you.”

  “I know,” she said, her voice muffled in his shoulder. He buried his face in her hair. As children, she had been his hero, the brilliant older sister who could do anything. She often still was; his life would be an utter shitshow without her influence. Seeing her this upset barely computed, so he vowed to hug her for as long and as tight as she wanted.

  A few minutes later, she untangled them and gave him a tiny smile. “Thank you for understanding.”

  “You’re my sister—”

  “I know.” She patted his knee, straightened her spine, and cleared her throat. “We’ve been talking to an adoption specialist. We didn’t—” She stopped, and her mouth twisted into a wry smile. “We didn’t want to put all our eggs in one basket. Ha-ha. So if this doesn’t work out, our prospects look good. I mean, Ben’s a child psychologist, so…. I’m just not sure how to tell our parents.”

  “Ah.” As doctors, his parents would understand logically that infertility was beyond Afra’s control, especially at her age—that neither she nor Ben were to blame and that adoption was a lovely way to expand a family. Surely they must have some idea by now that it might not be in the cards for her to get pregnant. But Ari had no idea how they would respond emotionally. “They’ll understand. Eventually.”

  “Yeah, eventually. I’ve been debating whether to tell them now or when we’re matched with a potential mother. You know?”

  Ari did know. Surprises were often easier to handle when they were a done deal instead of a hypothetical, but….

  “Adoption can take a while.”

  Afra nodded, her eyes unhappy but her mouth a firm stubborn line.

  “But in the meantime… I don’t know. Every time they mention the kids thing, it hurts you. I hate that.”

  “They do the same to you,” she said weakly, but Ari shook his head.

  “No, they meddle and make me feel uncomfortable, but I’m okay with being single. It’s not the same.”

  “Thanks.” She cleared her throat. “And speaking of being single….”

  He groaned; he’d really walked right into that one. Though in the interest of cheering Afra up, he could submit to a few awkward questions and some innuendo. “Yes, all right. Let’s hear it.”

  Afra leaned forward, watching his face. “Okay, well, first of all, since when do you take men home without first wining and dining them until even I have blue balls—”

  Well, he asked for it.

  “—and second, you’re dating bartenders now?”

  Ouch. That particular flavor of skepticism stung. “Is that really what you think of me? That I’m shallow?”

  Afra rolled her eyes. “Come on. It’s not shallow that you’re generally attracted to guys with genius-range IQs. I don’t think you’re shallow. I think you only date guys you’d bring home to Maman and Baba.”

  “And Maman and Baba—” would not approve of Ari bringing home a bartender.

  “Are kinda shallow.”

  Fair point.

  “Well, we’re not dating,” Ari said, trying to keep the tone light and failing completely.

  “What!” Afra yelped, sitting up straight. “Why not?”

  Ari could not tell her about Jax being aromantic. For one thing it wasn’t his to tell, and for another she’d insist he stop seeing Jax, which he had no intention of doing. “W
ell, like you mentioned, Maman and Baba….”

  She rolled her eyes. “Oh, so what? You’re thirty-two years old! You can date who you want.”

  Sure, he could, if he wanted to defend his choices to his parents for the rest of his life. “You believe that?” Just because she’d found a guy their parents didn’t intentionally drive away didn’t mean it was easy. She happened to fall in love with a guy who had multiple degrees and came from a perfect nuclear family.

  Sighing, she melted a little. “Well, I’d like to believe it. I think they’d come around eventually.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Anyway, let me get this straight.” Afra didn’t look amused anymore. Actually she looked like she wanted to kick his ass. “You can’t take Jax home to Maman and Baba, so instead of dating him you’re just using him for sex?”

  Okay, that did sound terrible. “Maman and Baba not approving is incidental to the reason. It’s Jax.”

  “What about him?”

  “He’s….” Ari grasped for straws. “Kind of skittish. I thought if I tried to date him first it might scare him off.”

  Afra pursed her lips in a way that meant she was attempting to hide a smile. “So you’re, what, incepting him into dating you? You’ve got an awful high opinion of your skills.”

  Now Ari allowed himself to give in to the satisfied smile that he deserved. “After last night, so does Jax.”

  She barked a laugh, finally. “All right, all right. I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  “Not the slightest idea,” Ari said. “But it’s kind of a refreshing change.”

  Afra raised her iced coffee and waited for him to do the same. “I’ll drink to that.”

  JAX RAN out of flour during the seventh recipe.

  The sixth batch was still in the oven, so he couldn’t just leave and buy more. And in point of fact, he probably shouldn’t be making these. Excessive baking was wasteful. And he was going to need every extra dollar.

  Unless, of course, he sucked it up and cracked open his laptop.

  Jax didn’t want to suck it up. Not the it in question, anyway.

  He could put off thinking about his PhD if he had more flour.

  Oooor he could think about Ari.

  He hoped Afra was okay. He got the feeling Ari didn’t exactly leave men in his apartment alone the day after ruinously good sex that barely got past first base, which meant whatever had happened, she’d needed him.

  Meanwhile, Jax could indulge himself in daydreams of when he might see Ari again while surrounded by the scent of two hundred freshly baked cookies.

  Aaaand he was spiraling. He shouldn’t have stayed over at Ari’s. He’d forgotten to take his meds this morning, which explained the hyperfixation on baking, as well as the headache blooming in his frontal lobe. He needed caffeine.

  Maybe he should text Ari.

  “Jax?”

  He must’ve missed Hobbes coming home.

  “Hey. In the kitchen.”

  “Yeah, I can tell.” Hobbes appeared in the doorway a moment later. “So, first you don’t come home at night, and now you’re apparently starting a side hustle in refined carbs. Do I dare ask if you want to talk about it?”

  Jax swatted him with the spatula when he reached for the chocolate chip. “Those just came out. They’re still too hot.”

  “Was that a no to talking about it?”

  “It was a ‘please test the cream-cheese chocolate swirl, I think I might’ve put the sugar in twice.’” They sat at the kitchen table with a plate of various cookies and cups of coffee.

  “So.” Hobbes picked up a cookie and examined it in the light. It must have passed inspection, because he continued, “Ari,” and then took an enormous bite.

  “I could draw you a diagram,” Jax offered.

  “Pass.” Hobbes hummed in gratification at the cookie. “Right amount of sugar, by the way.”

  Jax mentally congratulated himself. Considering the medication slipup, he was definitely going to have to taste-test every type of cookie. “Thanks.”

  “Uh-huh.” Hobbes dusted off his hands and picked up his coffee mug. “I take it the night went… well?”

  “Playing with fire, Hobbes,” Jax warned. “Unless you want to hear about all the things Ari can do with his tongue.” He paused, derailed. “Well, not all of them, there’s only so many hours in a night—”

  He raised his hands in protest. “I yield!”

  “I do actually need your help with something,” Jax realized. “Which one of these cookies says ‘I’m into you the exact amount that you’re into me’ without reeking of premature devotion?”

  Hobbes blinked at him, then looked at the cooling rack. “Well, it’s not the macarons.”

  Fair.

  What was an appropriate number of cookies for a “the sex was great, but how about I make you breakfast next time” gift?

  “Jax?”

  He rubbed a hand over his eyes. “I hate when I forget my meds.”

  “That does explain a lot,” Hobbes said. “Maybe you should keep some on you if you’re going to be having impromptu sleepovers.”

  Jax took out his phone and willed himself to have received a text from Ari, but still no luck. “I’m still sort of hoping it’ll be less impromptu next time.”

  “Hey.” He looked up at the suddenly serious tone. Hobbes was watching him steadily. “If he doesn’t call you, he’s a fool.”

  Now there was irony for you. Jax cracked a feeble smile. “Thanks, Hobbes.”

  Jax’s afternoon didn’t perk up. He still felt jittery and untethered when he got to work—only a few minutes late, and still wearing his Never Wear a Red Shirt T-shirt, whoops—and discovered that for him, a bar shift with unmedicated ADHD was a unique brand of hell.

  Murph kept shooting him looks and, after his third drink mix-up, shoved him out from behind the bar and told him to put the energy to good use.

  At least he couldn’t drop the piano.

  Ari hadn’t called or texted all day, and Jax’s romantic pessimism was engaged in battle with his trust in Naomi and Murph, who wouldn’t have let him get involved with an asshat. Afra’s problem must have been bigger than Ari had anticipated.

  Though if that was the case, surely he would have answered Jax’s late afternoon text of Hope Afra’s okay. Right? Or the follow-up, What can I do with your key?

  After an hour, he was behind the bar once again, this time filling drinks as Murph ordered, when Ari arrived. He was still dressed in those sinfully tight jeans, and he wore a messenger bag cross body, which made his shoulders look wider and his torso longer. Jax wondered if he was drooling on the bar.

  The crowd moved for him, but Ari didn’t seem to notice. His eyes were on Jax as he made his way to the bar.

  “I’m an asshole,” Ari said by way of hello.

  “Oh?” Jax’s heart thumped.

  “I should have called or texted today.”

  “Yeah,” Jax agreed. He had seven kinds of cookies to find a home for.

  “I’m sorry that I didn’t.” He glanced away, then met Jax’s eyes once again. “Sometimes I go full-on flighty artist when I’m writing. Forget everything. But I shouldn’t have let myself do that today.”

  Okay, not an asshat. “Definitely not gentlemanly behavior.” Jax let himself lean into Ari’s space.

  “Indeed.” Ari gave a tentative smile. “I really am sorry, Jax. I came here as soon as I lifted my head and saw the time.”

  Jax glanced at the clock—almost nine. “That must have been some writing binge.”

  Ari blushed dark enough to be seen in the low lighting of the bar. “Yes, it was.” He cleared his throat. “That doesn’t excuse my idiocy, though.” He reached into his bag and pulled out something soft and lumpy. “I’m hoping this might get me back into your good books.”

  Curious, Jax took the object. It was cloth—a nice T-shirt, judging by the feel. He unfurled it to get a good look—and burst into laughter.

  The maj
ority of the chest was occupied by a large pi symbol with a cartoon drawing of a bushy mustache pasted on the crossbeam. Underneath, it read Magnum Pi.

  “A Tom Selleck math joke. It’s almost like you know me.”

  A smile tugged at Ari’s lips. “I’m getting there.”

  Jax’s heart melted. Definitely not an asshat. “Okay, you’re forgiven. But only because this shirt is amazing.”

  “Good.” Ari smiled at him, and his eyes were soft and tender. Jax’s heart hammered against his ribs, and he clutched the shirt tighter. A guy could get used to being looked at like that.

  Unfortunately the look was maybe too addicting. Within ten minutes, Murph was glaring at Ari, and Jax had to chase him away.

  “I’m unmedicated today, and I can’t mix drinks with your face”—Jax waved his hands in the general direction of Ari’s head—“doing that.”

  One eyebrow went up. “Doing what?”

  “Looking at me. Just… go sit somewhere else and let me work.”

  So Ari stood slowly, and with one last lingering look that had Jax almost breathless, he disappeared into the break room. Probably for the best. As long as Ari was within eyesight, he would be a distraction.

  Not that it helped much, Jax thought ruefully as he fumbled a glass and watched it shatter on the ground. At least it was empty.

  “Right, that’s it.” Murph threw a cloth onto the bar top and gave Jax a long look. “You’re useless tonight. Honestly, b’y, the next time you forget them, just call in sick.”

  “I didn’t want to leave you in the lurch,” Jax said guiltily.

  Murph sighed. “We’re full up on staff. We’ll manage without the great Jax Hall for the rest of the night. Go find your fanboy and get out of my bar.”

  Meekly, Jax stepped around Henry, who had arrived with a broom, and darted to the back. He found Ari hunched over the keyboard, headphones in, scribbling something in a notebook.

  Jax cleared his throat, knocked on the wall, and then knocked on the keyboard.

  Ari jumped. “Jax! Are you done already?”

  “I’ve been sent home early for being a danger unto myself and others.” Ari arched his eyebrow, and Jax rubbed his own, somewhat sheepishly. “I, uh, broke a couple of glasses. Forgetting a pill leaves me worse than I was before medication.”