Variables of Love

by M. K. Schiller

  I walked to the common room, planning on plopping on the couch and watching television, but found the door locked. I didn’t want to sit outside of my room. I knew Rachael’s voice was loud in general, and I didn’t want to hear her. I decided to go for a walk. There was a cool breeze, and maybe I could get the image of Rachael having sex with a stranger out of my head.

  I started walking, admiring the campus that had been my home for the past three years. I would miss it. I was sure it was the most beautiful campus in the world. I made it to the far end, almost exiting the gate. My thoughts started drifting from the manicured lawns and perfectly clipped rose bushes to Ethan Callahan, as they so often did these days.

  When he pulled up beside me in his Escalade Hybrid, I actually shrieked. Maybe, like my swan, Suzanne, I was going mad. Is he trying to torture me?

  “What are you doing out here by yourself?” he asked before the window was even rolled down.

  “Just walking.” At least it was dark and he couldn’t see me blushing.

  “You shouldn’t be out here this late.”

  His concern touched me, but I tried not to let it show. I didn’t want to seem vulnerable. “This is a very safe campus.”

  “Get in. I’ll drive you back.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “It wasn’t a request.”

  I shook my head, continuing my walk, but he just followed beside me.

  “Think of it as a favor,” he said. “Do it for me.”

  “How is it a favor to you?”

  “Because I won’t be able to sleep tonight not knowing you’re safe, Sunshine.”

  Does he imagine me in bed too? It was hard to be stubborn when his demand held just the right mixture of command and concern that it turned me on. After a deep breath, I opened the passenger door. I sat down on the plush seat and did my best to maintain an air of relaxation, which I sure as hell didn’t feel. The Eli Young Band’s song, “Just Add Moonlight,” wafted through the speakers.

  “You like country?” I asked him, surprised.

  “Yeah, I’m from Texas. It’s kind of a rule.”

  I was suddenly able to place the drawl in his voice. It was the husky sweetness of the southern accent combined with East Coast flair. It was as unique as him.

  “You lived in Texas?”

  “Among other places.” He moved to turn off the radio.

  “Will you leave it on? I love this song.”

  “You like country?” he asked, cocking his eyebrows in surprise.

  I nodded. “I always have. Every song conveys a story whether it’s silly or something heart wrenching. Know what I mean?”

  “Yeah, I know exactly what you mean.” His fingers tapped against the steering wheel, keeping time with the music.

  We were just sitting in his car, listening to the radio. Yet it was the most natural exchange I’d had all day.

  “What are you doing here? Don’t you live off campus?”

  “I was on a date. I just dropped her off.” He looked guilty, but he had no reason to be. My body coiled with tight anxiety just the same.

  “That’s nice,” I said with enough aggression to communicate it wasn’t nice at all. I clenched my fists, turning my head toward the window. I didn’t trust myself to speak another word. It was so obvious I was seething with jealousy, and I had no right to be.

  “Which dorm do you live in?”

  “I can’t go back yet. Rachael’s entertaining.”

  He paused for a moment, but he understood what I meant. “Let’s go somewhere else, then.”

  “Where do you want to go?”

  “I’ll take you to one of my favorite places. It’s close. You’ll like it.”

  I didn’t agree, but he started driving anyway. I wanted to ask him about his date. Who is she? Do I know her? In other ways, I didn’t want to set foot anywhere near that topic. It was a landmine, ripe with explosive possibilities, none of them favorable.

  “Does Rachael…ah…entertain a lot?” His voice didn’t have judgment, but he seemed concerned in a way.

  “Not a lot,” I lied. “I usually go to the common area, but it was locked.”

  “Do me a favor and stop walking around at night by yourself. If you can’t get into the common area, call me.”

  His generous offer left me speechless.

  He drove us up to a ridge on that overlooked the cities of Silicon Valley. It wasn’t far, but I’d never been here. He hopped out and came around to my side, opening my door.

  “What are we doing here?”

  “It’s a good place to look at the stars. I like astronomy, and I figured you might like it too…you know, since you’re into astrology.” He smirked, offering me his hand. I took it hesitantly, but he tightened his grip, pulling me out of the car.

  “I wouldn’t say I’m into astrology,” I replied, crossing my arms.

  Ethan didn’t reply, but he shocked me instead by stepping onto the passenger seat. He gracefully pulled himself onto the roof of his car. “Come here,” he said, extending his arm.

  “You want to sit up there?”

  “It’s the best view. Besides, this is certified Detroit rolling iron,” he said, taking his fist and banging it like a gavel on the roof. “You won’t hurt it.”

  I placed my foot on the passenger floor, tentatively taking Ethan’s hand. A slight jolt of electricity rushed through me as he pulled me up effortlessly, grasping my waist in the process. I sat next to him in the small space between the rails.

  “Lie down, Sunshine.” His voice had an effect on me, lulling me into a quiet compliance that I’d never known. I followed his command. Ethan pulled off his sweatshirt, managing to almost take his T-shirt with it. I saw the tight, hard-pressed muscles underneath and forced myself not to touch them. He rolled his sweatshirt into a ball and handed it to me. “Use this for a pillow.”

  I placed the makeshift pillow under my head. A visible shiver coursed through my body when I realized only a few inches separated us.

  “Cold?” he asked, mistaken about my trembling.

  I nodded, not knowing what else to say. In some acrobatic move, he hooked his feet on the rack, lowered the top half of his body, opened the back passenger door, and closed it again. When he came back up, he held a velvety soft plaid blanket.

  “Thank you,” I said, taking it with hesitation.

  “What?”

  “Why do you have a blanket in your car?”

  “In case I need it.”

  “Have you ever had sex on it?” I asked, staring at the soft plush material with narrowing eyes.

  Ethan laughed. “Of course I have.”

  “Oh,” I said, holding the material further away.

  “It’s my sex blanket. Whenever I’m in the mood, I just lay it on the ground, take off my clothes, and the ladies line up.”

  It took two seconds before his words sank in, and I burst out laughing.

  “I’ve had sex on it once, but don’t worry—I’ve washed it since then.” His honesty was jarring. Did he always tell the truth? He pulled it over us before crossing his arms behind his head and lying down. Our shoulders grazed each other’s. “Look up, Sunshine.”

  I gasped. The golden stars appeared to drop right out of the sky like they might fall on us. “It’s beautiful. They look so close.”

  “I know. It makes you feel important and insignificant at the same time.”

  “That’s a good way to describe it.”

  We were silent for a moment, both staring at the magnificent view above us. “Do you bring a lot of girls here?”

  Ethan chuckled, turning toward me and resting his head on his crooked elbow. “No, why? You think I should?”

  I couldn’t fit any more of my foot into my mouth if I tried. Ethan was so close to me, and like the stars above us, he felt within reach, but he was just an illusion. We were quiet for a while, but when I shifted, I saw he was still staring at me. “How was your date?”

  “It was okay.”

&
nbsp; I wanted more than that, but I had no right to ask for details, but I really wanted them.

  “Did you get lucky?” I winced at the forthrightness of the question. I was acting like a locker room buddy of his or, worse, a jealous, insecure girl, which was the reality.

  “You seem very interested in my sex life, Meena.”

  I was grateful it was dark, because I actually felt the heat color my face. “I’m just trying to make conversation,” I said, repeating the same statement he’d made the other day at the lake, hoping it sounded casual.

  He was quiet for a moment, and I desperately wanted to see his expression, but I kept my eyes on the stars instead.

  “That’s an interesting phrase. Getting lucky implies my sole objective was to have sex.”

  “Wasn’t it?”

  “I like sex as much as the next guy, but I wouldn’t say it’s my goal or my reason for going on a date.”

  I couldn’t believe we were discussing his sex life. Then again, I chose the topic like the complete fool I was.

  “Are you looking for ‘the one,’ Ethan?” I asked with a hint of sarcasm in my voice.

  He chuckled. “No way. Not at twenty-two.”

  “I don’t get it.”

  “Get what?”

  “Why people date.”

  His laughter boomed out into the night air. “Did you seriously just say you don’t get why people date?”

  I sighed, irked by his response. “You don’t get arranged marriage, but I didn’t laugh at you. I don’t get the dating thing. I mean, if you’re not looking for sex or a long-term relationship…why bother?”

  Ethan lay down on his back again and was quiet for a while. I’d almost wondered if he’d fallen asleep. Then I felt his pinky hook onto mine. It was a surprise, but it didn’t make me feel awkward.

  “You’re a very linear thinker, aren’t you? You believe that A plus B has to equal C?” he said.

  “Doesn’t it?”

  “It does. The thing is there are about a million variables between A and B before you get to C. Nothing is as simple as a straight line. In fact, it’s pretty difficult to find anything linear in life.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He started talking, with his free hand gesturing to match his words. I watched it against the moonlight. “When you throw a pebble across the water, it doesn’t dart out in a perfect path. It skips along the water, causing ripples—concentric, connecting circles.” He pointed to the night sky. “The stars above us, they don’t line up like an arrow on a treasure map. They hang out in clusters and groups, connecting to each other’s energy. Even biologically, our heartbeats bounce. A straight line in reference to your heart means you’re dead. Dating or friendship—it isn’t about the product but the process. It’s about forming connections and their relationship to each other. I think that’s the purpose of dating or at least…my purpose. It’s a connection to someone else.”

  “You should have been a philosophy major. You’re wasting your time with this math stuff.”

  “It is math. All math.”

  “I don’t think it’s really math.”

  “It’s as simple as addition or as complicated as the exponential functions of a natural logarithm. Take us for example.”

  “Us?”

  “Yes, right now, we’re having a conversation. You’re giving part of yourself to me and vice versa. It’s a piece of you I can take with me. Some connections make us better people, some worse, but they usually influence us in some way. They shape who you are or who you become. Do you get it?”

  “Somewhat, but there’s still one thing I don’t understand.”

  “What’s that?”

  I turned to him, smiling. “How did you not get lucky tonight with lines like that?”

  Ethan let out a rowdy laugh, tightening his pinky around mine. It was infectious, and soon we were both cracking up. We sank back into the quiet again, lost in our own thoughts.

  Ethan’s raspy voice spilled into the night air. “If I’d wanted to have sex, I could have.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  He turned to face me, displaying a cocky smile and winking. His eyes took on a shimmering quality, even in the dark. “No connection.”

  He dropped me off at my dorm an hour later. “Do you think he’s gone?” Ethan asked.

  “Oh, I’m pretty sure he left a while ago.” I knew enough to know that even Rachael couldn’t have sex this long.

  “Give me your phone.”

  I took my cell out of my pocket and handed it to him.

  He put in all his contact info and handed it back. “Text me if he’s still there. I’ll wait.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I know.”

  I nodded, opening the door. It felt wrong to leave like this without somehow expressing my feelings to him. At least something to let him know I was grateful. For what, I wasn’t sure. We’d just hung out, but the exchange we shared seemed to signify something. I couldn’t give in to my desires and date him or anything, but I could let him know that he meant something to me.

  “Ethan, I wanted to say thanks.”

  “For what? I enjoyed it.”

  “Me too, but I wasn’t thanking you for that. I was thanking you for being a friend.”

  He face lit up as he grinned that cute, boyish smile at me. “So, I got the job?”

  “It turns out I had an opening after all,” I replied, matching his smile.

  “I knew my persistence would pay off.”

  I floated back to my dorm room. I had no idea how a conversation with Ethan could make me feel that way. Then again, it was a combination of everything. The conversation we had. The small touch of his pinky hooked with mine. Of course, there was inhaling his intoxicating scent, sharing a blanket, grazing shoulders, and staring at the stars. It was everything, and yet it was nothing but a brief moment in time. I wanted it back.

  Rachael was sitting at her desk, reading a textbook. She looked up, relieved, as soon as I entered the room. “Where were you? I was worried. I texted you and went to the common room.”

  I pulled out my phone and took a moment to send a quick message to Ethan under the guise of checking for Rachael’s text.

  “Sorry, I didn’t hear it. The common room was locked, so I went for a walk.” I decided to keep stargazing with Ethan to myself.

  “I think they shampooed the carpets today. I’m sorry, Meena. I really suck as a roommate. How mad are you?”

  I shrugged my shoulders. “It depends on if you have the good chocolate.”

  “I got it,” she said, opening her drawer and throwing a candy bar my way.

  “Who was the guy by the way?”

  Rachael smiled. She was completely at ease with her choices. Though I didn’t agree with them, I envied her lack of regret. “Greg.” She didn’t give me his last name. I wondered if she knew it. “He’s cute, right?”

  “Um…I didn’t really get a good look.” I fiddled with the wrapper on the chocolate bar.

  “Oh, yeah, I guess it was awkward.”

  Awkward? That was an understatement.

  “He’s okay,” she continued. “I got a small O out of the deal.”

  “A small O?”

  “You can’t have the big O all the time.”

  I sat on my bed, shaking my head at her. “Do you ever think that’s because you don’t stay with them long enough for them to know what you like?”

  Rachael laughed. “Nope, if a guy’s a good fuck, he’s good no matter what. It doesn’t matter if we do it once or a hundred times. In fact, I think it gets worse the more you do it.”

  “How could that be?”

  She was thoughtful for a moment. “It gets predictable.”

  “Law of diminishing returns?” I asked, using an economic reference.

  “Exactly,” she exclaimed, clapping her hands as if I’d made a radical scientific discovery.

  I threw my pillow at her. She managed to catch it and thr
ow it right back. “I was just kidding. That’s not the right concept.”

  “Sounds right to me.”

  Chapter 6

  IT HAD BEEN TWO WEEKS since Meena and I stared at the stars from the roof of my car. Our relationship had shifted. She was more relaxed and comfortable around me. We were friends now. I wanted more, but I respected her boundaries.

  We were sitting in the cafeteria after Professor Malkin’s class, studying as we usually did now. Well, she was studying. I was staring at my book, unable to concentrate, stealing sly glances at her. She had her hair up in that messy bun that was killing me. How does she manage to make it look so sexy? She wasn’t trying, and that made her even more irresistible. She had no idea how hot she was.

  Other guys gave her that up-and-down look that bordered appreciation and creepiness. Hell, I was guilty of it myself. I wasn’t typically a jealous guy, and when it came to Meena, I had no right to be, but I was, just the same. I had a ridiculous urge to put my arm around her to let those assholes know to step off. It didn’t matter, though. In reality, Meena wasn’t interested in any of them…or me. I had gone on a few dates, trying to put her out of my mind, but it wasn’t helping the cause.

  “Can I borrow your notes? I think I missed something,” she said, looking up from her textbook. I glanced down, embarrassed I’d been caught staring at her. I slid my notebook to her. She ran her fingers down the page until she found the section she was looking for. “Your notes are meticulous.”

  I shrugged. “It’s the math guy in me. I have a need to systematize.”

  “Systematize? Is that even a word?”

  “I’m pretty sure it is.”

  “Why do you have two notebooks?”

  Her observation surprised me, but then again, it wasn’t really something I hid. “It helps me stay organized.”

  “What do you write in the other book?”

  “It’s nothing that has anything to do with class. I jot down distracting stuff I need to get out of my head. Shit, that kind of makes me sound crazy.”