Don't Kiss Your Lab Partner

by Lucy McConnell

  I was beginning to wonder how well I knew John Herrington III.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Sunday brunch was nutty. Really. Every food had some sort of nuts in it, with walnuts being the main event. The oatmeal was pretty good, and I recommended we have it again soon. Mom agreed. Dad could give or take it. He preferred the fresh fruit with nuts and cheese.

  They had a lot of questions about my date. I finally told them about the fountain thing, leaving out the part of Brad picking me up and dumping me in. For some reason, that made me feel small—and I wasn’t keen on sharing it with the people who thought the world of me. I managed to get out of there with my pride intact.

  Sydney was waiting for me when I got back to the dorms. I pulled out a bag of root beer gummies and told her everything. She thought the whole date was hilarious, from the moment I spilled on him to when I dove into the getaway car. I was dying to know what Brad had told John, but we couldn’t come up with a way to ask him without sounding like I was interested in going out with Brad again.

  I was so not interested, and I went to bed with my curiosity dissatisfied.

  Monday was a B day, so I didn’t have programming. It was the only class I had with John, but I needed to see him. I texted and asked him to meet me in the dorm bistro after school.

  I got there late. My Spanish teacher held us back until Alexander finished his oral report. He could not remember the word for “president,” and we had to wait while she tried to tease it out of him. He finally got it, and I congratulated him on the way out.

  John was already at a table in the middle of the room, one foot kicked back and wrapped around the silver chair leg. I swung by the counter and picked up a container of cottage cheese. Not because I was hungry, but because I needed a moment to calm my heart. It picked up speed the closer I got to him.

  “Hey.” I set my stuff down. “I have a question for you.”

  He leaned back, throwing one arm over the back of the chair. “Hi to you too.”

  I smirked. “Did you set me up with Brad because you thought it would be funny?”

  “Funny?” He came forward.

  “He climbed in a fountain to wash off his pants. I mean, did you think that was the kind of guy I wanted?” I did my best to keep my tone light and conversational even though I’d stewed over this all weekend long, and it felt so good to finally get it out even though I was worried he’d be mad or offended and leave just because I asked.. But I had to know if he was messing with me, if I meant so little to him that he was playing games.

  He blinked. “Brad’s fun. I thought it would be a fun first date. I didn’t want you miserable like I was on my first date, so I picked the fun guy.”

  Well, besides the overuse of the word fun, his speech was sweet.

  “Besides, it looks like you guys had an epic date.” He turned the phone around and showed me Brad’s post.

  “Gag! That’s horrible.” My eyes were huge, my nose wrinkled, and my hair had caught on his arm and was lifted high. I shoved his phone away. “I’m so hacking his account and deleting that.” I pulled out my laptop to do just that.

  John put his hand on his fist and leaned on his elbow. “You can do that?”

  “Watch me.”

  “But you have social proof that you’ve been on a date now.”

  “I don’t need social proof. I need sanity. That was three seconds before the cops showed up and chased us across Seattle.”

  “No!”

  “My arm still hurts from him pulling me into the fountain.” I sighed heavily and booted up my computer.

  “So it wasn’t the best night of your life?” John kept his eyes down, sounding cool, but I caught a hint of hope in there, and it made me smile.

  “Uh, nope.” I glanced away from the screen where I’d found Brad’s Insta account. I really didn’t want to do this in front of John. In fact, I might not want to do it at all, but I couldn’t have that picture floating around out there for the whole world to see. Instead of hacking him, I PMed him and asked him to take it down. We’d see what that accomplished.

  “It got my dad off my back, though, about dating, so I owe you one for that.” I slouched, thinking about his next goal for me.

  “You don’t look happy about it.”

  “I thought I’d be able to go the rest of the semester without him nagging me to be normal, but he’s got it in his head I have to go to a party now.” I slapped my hand over my mouth. I couldn’t believe I’d just blurted all that out.

  Brad didn’t answer. I clicked my laptop closed.

  “Is there such a thing as normal?” he asked.

  I rolled my eyes. In for a penny … He might as well know how things worked at my house. “Dad keeps saying there isn’t, but then he gives me these dumb assignments that are supposed to help me progress socially.”

  John touched my arm, and the air instantly sizzled around us. If I wasn’t already sitting, my knees would have buckled. “I can help you with that.”

  “With …” I trailed off, because I was thinking about how soft his hair had felt under my palm the other day and how much I wanted to try that out again.

  “The party. My mom’s throwing one this weekend.”

  I cringed. “As much as I would love that—” And I would! How many times could I picture myself around the fire pit, roasting a marshmallow and laughing with John? I could not get that image out of my head. “—I’m not sure I’m ready for any more social research.”

  “This is different. It’s mostly adults—my dad’s buddies from college and stuff.”

  “Wouldn't your parents get mad if a teenager showed up?”

  “They always encourage me to bring a dat—er, friend.”

  Had he almost said date? Was this a date?

  He coughed into his hand.

  I ran over last weekend’s debacle and looked for places I could be more prepared. “What’s the dress code?”

  “Semi-formal—knee-length dress.” He added that last part as if I didn’t know what semi-formal meant. I might not have a lot of experience with people my own age, but as a single child, I’d had a lot of experience in adult situations. Remember Germany? There’d been formal dinners and semi-formal dinners every other night during the week.

  He touched my hand. “Please say you’ll come.”

  I wanted to go. I wanted to go with all my heart. “We have deadlines …” I offered lamely as I worked up my courage. “And no one has signed up for the beta test, which will put us further behind …” I stopped talking at his crestfallen expression.

  “If I can get five people to sign up in the next ten minutes, will you have time to go?”

  Right. Like that was going to happen. “Sure.”

  He dove into his phone. I went back to the silverware stand and grabbed a spoon so I could actually eat the cottage cheese I’d picked up.

  I sat down, and he dropped his phone on the desk. “Check it now.”

  I set my spoon aside and reopened the laptop. Sure enough, there were five participants—three girls and two guys. “How’d you do that?”

  “I sold my soul.”

  “Ha ha. Really?”

  “I invited them to the party. Seriously, come. It would be—”

  I held up my palm. “Do not say fun.”

  He pressed his lips together for a second, and I could see him switch mental gears. “It will be a great way to check our results. We’ll run the matches, not tell them, and then observe them at the party. If the same two couples hang out the most or get along, boom! We have success.”

  “Okay, that’s actually tempting.”

  He grinned. “I knew your brain wouldn’t be able to resist real-life application of theory.”

  “Stop trying to sweet-talk me.” I smacked his knee, and he laughed. A light feeling, one of great accomplishment and joy, rushed through me. So this was flirting.

  “Shoot. Is that the time?” He stared at the huge gear clock on the wall. “Mom’s going to ki
ll me.” He grabbed his bag. “I’ll update the code this week in class. We should have another workday while you fine-tune the algorithm. I looked it over last night—it’s epic.”

  I ducked. “It’s just …”

  He hooked his finger under my chin and lifted my gaze to meet his. “It’s definitely genius.”

  I wanted to both cry and laugh at the same time. Why did it have to feel so good when he said nice things? “If that’s done, then I guess I’ll have time to party.” I raised my hands and shook my backside, which was still in the seat. It was a sad effort at a happy dance, but he smiled.

  “You’re going to love it.” He hurried out.

  I melted with a sigh. When he was around, I bloomed, grew bigger like a balloon and when he left, I somehow felt drawn in, smaller. If I could make an app that made you feel like that, I’d make a fortune.

  I swirled the spoon through the cottage cheese. I was going to a party. And not just any party, but a PartyMom party. That was pretty impressive. Take that, Dad.

  I grinned to myself. I was killing his dumb social goals.

  Chapter Fourteen

  I pulled at the hem of my dress as I got out of the car. Sydney insisted that I had great legs but all I could think about was the draft on my backside. Not that the dress as that short. My brain knew the fabric covered my assets, but I was seriously self-conscious.

  Okay, it might not have been all about the dress. I’d spent a few hours in a salon that afternoon, anxious to make a good impression on John’s mom. I mean, the woman looked stunning rolling out of bed. I know, I know, the pics were doctored and she’d been up for three hours with a makeup artist before the camera turned on. I just … I was out of my element here. In my home, brains were what counted, not legs.

  Squaring my shoulders, I followed the signs telling partygoers to go around the house and into the backyard. My body buzzed with nerves and excitement. I was finally going to step into the magical world of PartyMom.

  The cobblestone path was framed by large green bushes covered in white flowers and passed through a wooden gate. The flowers had a heady scent that made my eyelids heavy.

  The path opened up, and I was in the most beautiful fairyland I’d ever seen. Shrubs about shin high created paths with small gathering spaces throughout the yard. There were park benches and rustic benches, which I’d seen Mrs. Herrington make on the blog. There were also little round tables that would be right at home in an outdoor French café.

  Fires—actual fire—burned in small metal buckets strategically placed everywhere. Lanterns sat on the tables and hung from tree branches. Soft music played over hidden speakers, and flowers gathered in bunches in the trees, on tables, and along the paths. White. Everything was white or a natural color.

  “Adelle.”

  Hearing my name on John’s lips sent a thrill over my skin. He came over, smiling as big as I did, and we got caught up in just looking at each other for a moment. He wore a white button-up rolled at the sleeves and light gray pants. Of course he matched the decorations. I would expect nothing less from Mrs. Herrington.

  “You look different.” His eyes widened as he realized what he’d said. “Good. I mean, great. You look great.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Come meet my mom or I’ll never hear the end of it.” He steered us through the maze of people and shrubbery to a more secluded section. The shrubs back here were chest high, and there was a photographer snapping pics.

  I spotted Mrs. Herrington right off. She wore all white, her dark hair hanging over one shoulder and her lips a coral color. She dazzled just as much in person and—I thought—as much as she did on her blog.

  “Mom.” John walked right up to her, interrupting the conversation with a man in a white server’s uniform. “This is Adelle—from my programming class.”

  Mrs. Herrington sniffed delicately. “Right. You’re the brains behind the project.”

  I stood in shock as she air-kissed both my cheeks. “Actually, it was John’s idea,” I said.

  She beamed. “He’s always been an idea man—not so much a follow-through man.”

  I cringed inside.

  “Mom,” John said in a tone that was meant to warn her off the subject.

  “What? Darling … a woman has a right to be warned.” She gave me an exaggerated wink. “What an adorable dress.”

  My cheeks flushed with heat, and I glanced down at my chocolate-colored dress with a creamy overlay on the skirt. “I expected fall colors,” I blurted out. Maybe it was dumb of me to want to blend in with the party, but I thought it would be cool.

  I’d missed the mark. Which, I was starting to realize, was the theme of this year.

  She waved her hand as if it didn’t matter. “I wanted a fresh look at fall this year.”

  John blew out a breath. “We’ll see if people hate it.”

  “That’s a pessimistic outlook. But not all of my plans have to come together.” She ran a critical eye over the yard. It was like she could calculate how much revenue the post would bring in with a look.

  “What about you?” I bumped John with my elbow. “Do you hate it?”

  He lifted a shoulder. “It doesn’t matter if I do or don’t.”

  “Your opinion always matters,” I insisted.

  His head came up and our eyes met again, holding, diving, feeling like more than it should but not quite enough. “Thanks,” he whispered.

  “How sweet. John, she’s simply pure and kind. What a find.” She looked at me the way she had looked at the backyard a moment before. I didn’t like the dollar signs in her eyes.

  “We’re going to mingle.” John gently led me away.

  “It was nice meeting you,” I got out before we were too far away.

  Mrs. Herrington had already turned her attention to the employee standing closest.

  John took my hand, sending a shock wave through my body, and guided me through the crowd. “Come on back. The test subjects are all here.”

  My tongue felt like it was covered in peanut butter as I tried to come up with something intelligent to say. “What were the matchups?” It appeared we weren’t going to talk about what had just happened. Which was fine, because I wasn’t sure what that was. A job interview? A test?

  “Grayson and Brittany and Trent and Candy,” he said over his shoulder.

  I could remember that. I put meeting his mom in the past and decided to focus on the here and now and the feel of my hand in his.

  We made it to a table that was for standing only. John introduced me. It was weird, because I could feel Brittany and Candy sizing me up. I was suddenly grateful to Sydney for insisting on the dress; it was right in line with what they wore, and I felt like I’d passed a test.

  Grayson went back to his story—something about a baseball game he’d gone to in Boston. I half listened as I took in the guests. There were a few famous actresses and actors. No one really big-name, but people I knew I should know and didn’t. I prayed I wouldn’t have to talk to them.

  I saw the mayor and several senators. John hadn’t been kidding when he’d said this was a party for his parents to make connections. I also saw several parents of kids that went to my school. A few nodded my direction when they caught me looking.

  “… so I ended up playing Halo with him.” Grayson finished his story, and everyone exclaimed in shock at the outcome. I dropped my jaw and laughed right along with them, even though I had no idea what he was talking about.

  “Do you want to dance?” Trent asked Candy.

  “Yes, please.” She rolled her eyes at Grayson and grabbed Trent’s hand.

  I looked down at my own to realize John was still holding on to it. I hadn’t forgotten; it was more like I felt comfortable with my hand there, like my hand was made to be held by his.

  He pointed to the bar. “Do you want to try an Italian soda?”

  “Sure.” At that moment, he could have asked if I wanted to watch a cat sleep, and I would have followed him.
/>   We left Grayson and Brittany at the table. He started in on another story, and she laid her hand on his arm as she giggled.

  “I’m pretty sure we knocked it out of the park with this one.” I pointed over my shoulder as we got in line.

  He nodded. “If we could get one of them to go to homecoming together, I can post their picture and link to the app. More people will sign up.”

  “Success breeds success.”

  “Exactly.” He swung our hands a little.

  I was thrown off by the electricity pulsing under my skin. I wasn’t the most knowledgeable about social situations, but the only people I’d seen hold hands were couples.

  He caught me looking at our interlaced fingers. “Tonight’s all about research, right?” he asked quietly, just for me.

  I breathed in his scent. It was shaving supplies and hair gel, but also something else—something that was just him. I nodded shyly.

  “Can you release the results to them?” He jerked his head, indicating the table we’d just left.

  I scrambled for my phone in the impossibly small purse hanging over my shoulder. I’d practically forgotten it was there. With a few taps, the results were out. “They should get a notice in a minute or two.” Perfect.

  We got our drinks and went back to the table. I let my right hand hang by my side, and John snatched it up. It was the best feeling ever.

  Brittany had her arm through Grayson’s, and her head on his shoulder, where he could get the full effect when she batted her heavy eyelashes. I kind of wondered how she managed to keep her eyes open under those caterpillars.

  “You guys are so great together.” John lifted his glass in their direction. “But I knew you would be.”

  “How?” demanded Grayson. He seemed like the skeptical type. Unless he’d done it, it wasn’t cool. I guess that worked well when you were a record-setting pole vaulter.

  That was one thing that had brought them together on the app—they both did track and field. Brittney was an ex-gymnast who also pole vaulted. I’d seen her routine before she started her run; it was all flinging arms as if acknowledging a set of judges and stepping toe-first up to the line.