Intermediate Thermodynamics: A Romantic Comedy (Chemistry Lessons Book 2)

by Susannah Nix

  Olivia flopped down on the couch next to Vilma and dropped her messenger bag on the floor with a thunk. She was Cynthia’s opposite in almost every way: a short, ghostly pale blonde who favored heavy black eyeliner and dark-colored lipstick and was dressed in black dress slacks and a plain gray button-down for work.

  “Good evening.” Vilma peered over the top of her reading glasses at the extra-large iced coffee Olivia was clutching. “No libations tonight?”

  “I’m on call,” Olivia said, nudging her messenger bag under the couch with her foot. She rattled the ice in her cup. “Hence the quadruple-shot of caffeine.”

  Olivia was a systems analyst for a power company. When she was on call, she had to be ready to log in if any of her systems went offline, or else millions of people would lose electricity—and her company would lose millions of dollars. Which meant she had to keep her laptop with her and she had to stay sober enough to write code at a moment’s notice.

  Jinny pushed through the door of the shop and waved to everyone as she got in line.

  “How’s the scarf coming?” Esther asked Olivia as she unpacked her knitting.

  Olivia was the newest member of the group. She’d only started knitting a few months ago, in order to make herself an old school Doctor Who scarf.

  “Slowly. I haven’t even taken it out since last Monday. Work’s been a real bitch and a half.” She smoothed the striped scarf out across her lap. It measured about two feet already, but the Doctor’s iconic scarf was twelve feet long. “I’m never going to finish this stupid thing.”

  “You’ve got until September though, right?” Cynthia leaned forward for her wine. “That’s almost four months. And you’ll get faster.”

  Olivia was a cosplayer, and every year she made herself an elaborate costume to wear to Dragon Con. The scarf was for this year’s costume: a Victorian-inspired lady Fourth Doctor. She was repurposing a Victorian suit dress from a previous lady Sherlock Holmes costume, but she wanted the scarf to be authentic and of her own making, so she’d taken up knitting.

  “Nothing nimbles the fingers like a hard deadline,” Vilma observed.

  “Am I the last one?” Jinny asked, pulling up a chair next to Esther and setting her wine glass on the table.

  Vilma shook her head. “No, we’re still waiting on Penny.” She cocked an eyebrow at Olivia. “Assuming she’s coming?” Penny was the one who’d taught Olivia to knit and introduced her to the group.

  Olivia shrugged. “I assume so, but I haven’t heard from her today.”

  “Here she comes,” Cynthia said, nodding toward the door.

  “Sorry, sorry, sorry!” Penny set a Tupperware container in the middle of the table. “The cookies had to cool before I could transport them.”

  Penny was always late, but since she usually brought homemade baked goods, nobody minded. Technically, they weren’t supposed to bring food into Antidote, but the manager let it slide because their group had been coming here so long. It helped that Penny usually brought extra treats to share with the employees.

  She peeled the lid off the Tupperware and frowned at the cookies. “I think some of them might still be a little smooshy.”

  “I love smooshy cookies.” Esther leaned forward for a chocolate chip cookie. Penny always sprinkled them with sea salt, which made them extra delicious.

  “Yeah, smooshy cookies are the best,” Jinny agreed, taking a cookie. “Mmmm, they’re still warm too. You’re the best, Penny.”

  “Thank you!” Penny said, beaming. “Does anyone need anything while I’m up?”

  Cynthia shook her head around a mouthful of cookie. “We’re all set.”

  Penny pulled a smaller container of cookies out of her bag for the employees and got in line. A few minutes later, she came back with a fruit-flavored iced tea and a handful of napkins—which they were all desperately in need of by then—and sat down next to Cynthia.

  “Oh! Is that one of your tiny sweaters?” Penny asked, pushing her bright red hair behind her ear as she leaned in for a closer look.

  Cynthia nodded as she held it out. “This is sweater number two. I think I’m getting the technique down, finally.” She was an artist who mostly did illustration, but she’d had an idea to illustrate a children’s book with photos of miniature dioramas, so she was knitting tiny sweaters for the little clay animals to wear. Between the lace weight yarn she was working with and the size 00 needles she’d had to special order for the task, it was an awe-inspiring feat of dexterity.

  “I don’t know how you can work so small,” Vilma said, shaking her head. “My poor old eyes hurt just thinking about it.”

  Esther’s eyes weren’t even old, and she couldn’t understand how Cynthia did it either. But that wasn’t a new feeling. She couldn’t understand how Cynthia did a lot of the things she was good at: drawing, painting, sculpting, photography. Esther didn’t have an artistic bone in her body, and she was awed by anyone who did. She always felt a little inadequate around the other women at knitting. Everyone else in the group was way craftier than she was. Olivia sewed and did amazing things with makeup for her cosplay, Vilma made pottery and did embroidery in addition to knitting, Penny was an incredible baker who could also sew and crochet and do calligraphy, and Jinny had a terrific eye for fashion and decorating.

  Knitting was the only crafty skill Esther had ever mastered, and she used self-striping sock yarn because she couldn’t match colors to save her life. Her wardrobe was as drab as her apartment, she could only sew well enough to replace a button, her cooking skills were rudimentary at best, and she hadn’t drawn or painted so much as a stick figure since elementary school.

  Sometimes she felt like she’d missed out on some of the essentials growing up. It wasn’t just arts and crafts—she’d never done any sports outside of PE class or learned a musical instrument either. Most of her childhood had been spent watching TV or reading alone in her room. Her father had been too busy to pay much attention to her even before he’d left, and her mother had been…distracted. Esther’s older brother, Eric, had been the one who did most of the cooking, helped her with her homework, and taught her how to drive a car.

  The Abbott household hadn’t exactly been an idyllic upbringing. Still, it could have been far worse. She felt like she’d turned out pretty okay, even if she was the least talented person in her knitting group.

  Cynthia’s gaze slid over to Esther and she quirked an eyebrow. “More socks? Really?”

  “Stop judging my socks. Socks are cool.” Esther decided it was time for a change of subject. “Jinny went on a date.”

  Jinny looked up from the cabled hat she was working on as four sets of eyes turned toward her.

  Cynthia’s brow crinkled. “With Stuart?”

  Jinny shook her head. “Someone new.”

  “I can’t believe you’re already dating someone else,” Penny said. “It’s been like five minutes since you and Stuart broke up. Teach me your mysterious ways, Obi-Wan.”

  Jinny shrugged. “He just asked me out, out of the blue.”

  Esther kept her eyes on the sock she was knitting. What Jinny didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her—as long as it kept her out of a toxic relationship.

  “How was it?” Olivia asked.

  “Do you like him?” Vilma asked.

  “Is he hot?” Cynthia asked.

  “Okay. I don’t know. Definitely,” Jinny rattled off, answering each of their questions.

  “Wait…” Penny frowned, looking up from her baby hat. She was constantly knitting baby hats, because someone in her enormous extended family was always having a baby. “He’s hot, but you don’t know if you like him?”

  “I’m not sure we had chemistry.” Jinny leaned forward for her wine glass. “He kind of talked about himself a lot.”

  “He could have been nervous,” Esther felt the need to point out again. Especially now that she knew for a fact that was the problem.

  Jinny shot her a sideways look. “I don’t know why you’re d
efending him. You can’t stand him.”

  Esther shrugged and looked back down at her knitting. “I’m just trying to be supportive.”

  Vilma reached for a cookie. “Esther knows him?”

  “He’s her neighbor,” Jinny said. “And she hates him.”

  “Hate’s a strong word,” Esther said.

  Jinny rolled her eyes. “A word I’ve heard you use about him on more than one occasion.”

  “I was employing hyperbole. He’s not that bad.”

  “Why don’t you like him?” Cynthia asked Esther.

  She shrugged again. “He’s got these wind chimes on his balcony that keep me up. Which has nothing to do with his worthiness as a boyfriend.”

  “And his cigarette smoke blows in your windows,” Jinny added.

  Penny wrinkled her nose. “He’s a smoker?”

  “Only occasionally,” Esther said. “And he doesn’t smoke inside his apartment. That’s not so bad, right?” Now she was defending guys who smoked, apparently. What was happening to her?

  Penny shook her head, frowning like it was still pretty bad.

  “Do you hate him more or less than Stuart?” Olivia asked Esther.

  “Less,” Esther said. “Definitely a lot less.”

  Cynthia looked at Jinny. “But do you like him? That’s what matters.”

  Jinny shrugged. “I don’t know yet. I’m still trying to figure that out. He’s not as hot as Stuart.”

  “Looks aren’t everything,” Vilma said.

  “And Stuart cheated on you,” Olivia reminded her.

  “I know,” Jinny sighed.

  “Stuart’s still begging her to take him back,” Esther told them.

  He was still texting her every day, although the frequency of his texts had decreased from somewhere in the dozens to only one or two daily, now that Jinny wasn’t responding as much. It was progress. Esther hoped maybe in another week or two he’d give up altogether.

  “Are you thinking about it?” Cynthia asked Jinny.

  Jinny looked down at her lap. “I’ve stopped answering his texts.”

  Which wasn’t exactly an answer. She’d been equally evasive when Esther had asked her the same question earlier that day. They weren’t completely out of the woods yet.

  “Tell him you’re dating someone else already,” Olivia suggested. “That’ll send a strong back-the-fuck-off message.”

  Jinny put her knitting down and helped herself to a cookie. “I don’t know that I’m actually dating. I went out on one date.”

  “But you’re going out again this weekend,” Esther pointed out. Jinny had told her Jonathan had called as promised and asked her on a second date—and she’d said yes. They were going out again Saturday night.

  “That’s totally dating.” Olivia nodded absently as she concentrated on her Doctor Who scarf. “Anything more than one date totally counts as dating. Officially.”

  “I just don’t know how I feel about this new guy yet,” Jinny said around a mouthful of cookie. She finished chewing and swallowed. “I don’t know that I even want to be dating him. I’m just keeping my options open for now.”

  “I’ll tell you what my mother always told me,” Vilma said. “Never skimp on shoes or mattresses.”

  Jinny’s forehead wrinkled. “I don’t know what that means in this context.”

  “Men are like shoes,” Vilma explained. “The world is full of cute shoes, but not all of them are worth walking around in. If they give you blisters, it doesn’t matter how much of a bargain they were.”

  “Or how good in bed,” Esther added, to make sure that part of the analogy was clear.

  Vilma nodded. “Sometimes you have to walk around in a new pair to figure out if they fit, and sometimes you have to break them in a little before they get really comfortable. But life’s too short to waste on cheap shoes—or men who don’t appreciate you.”

  Esther liked that. Maybe she’d have Vilma embroider it on a pillow to give Jinny for Christmas.

  Chapter Eight

  While Jinny was out on her second date with Jonathan on Saturday night, Esther forced herself to finish making notes on his script. When all was said and done, she’d filled fifteen single-spaced pages with feedback—most of it negative. It was all constructive, but it was going to be a massive ego blow for the poor guy.

  Hey, he’d said he wanted her opinion, so that was what he was getting. Like it or not.

  By the time Esther went to bed, sometime after midnight, Jinny still hadn’t called or texted to tell her how her date with Jonathan had gone. Esther wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or a bad one.

  Maybe the date was so bad she didn’t want to talk about it—or maybe the date wasn’t over yet. She hadn’t heard anything next door, but for all she knew, Jinny could be over there in Jonathan’s bed right now.

  Ugh. That was not an image she needed in her head. Thank god her bedroom didn’t share a wall with his.

  Esther fell asleep trying not to think about Jonathan and Jinny, and ended up having weird dreams all night about his stupid sci-fi script.

  In the morning, when she still hadn’t heard a peep from Jinny, Esther texted her.

  How’d it go last night?

  She was trying to play it cool and not seem overinvested in the outcome of the date, but she wanted to know what the sitch was before she saw Jonathan in a couple hours.

  Going to church with my parents, Jinny texted back after a few minutes. Call you later?

  Dammit. Jinny only drove down to Irvine to see her parents once a month, but when she did, it ate up the entire day. So much for talking to her before she had to face Jonathan.

  Esther had arranged to meet with him at two o’clock. Since his place was such a dump, she had suggested they do it at her apartment.

  At ten past two, he knocked on her door. “Hey,” he said when she opened it, hovering uncertainly on her doorstep with his laptop.

  Esther stepped back and waved him inside. “You ready to do this?”

  “Yeah.” He hesitated before stepping over the threshold, like maybe he wasn’t all that ready after all. “You finish reading it?” he asked, setting his laptop down on her coffee table.

  “Yep.” She walked to the dining table and patted the printouts she’d made for him. “Got my notes right here.”

  He came over for a closer look, and she flipped them over so he couldn’t read them. The notes could wait. She wanted to find out how his date with Jinny had gone before she crushed his ego with her script critique.

  Esther placed herself between him and the table. “First, tell me—how’d it go last night?”

  “Um…” He paused, scratching the back of his head. A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Better, I think.”

  Esther’s eyebrows shot up. “Yeah?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. I already asked her out for next weekend.”

  “Nice!” That was excellent news. She was tempted to ask him what time the date had ended, but decided against it.

  “Yeah.” He nodded some more. “And she said yes.” His smile got a little wider and…was he blushing?

  “Wait, are you actually starting to like her?” Esther asked. “Like, like her, like her?”

  He shrugged and looked down at his shoes, embarrassed. “I dunno. Maybe. There’s potential there anyway.”

  Look who had mad matchmaking skills! Maybe Esther should go into business for herself. She could get her own reality show, saving women from toxic boyfriends and matching them up with slightly awkward but sweet guys.

  “That’s awesome!” Esther gave him a congratulatory punch in the arm. “Good job.”

  He was wearing a gray V-neck T-shirt that exposed his biceps, which were surprisingly attractive. As her eyes lingered on them, she wondered again if the date had gone well enough for Jinny to sleep with him.

  Nope. On second thought, she didn’t want to know. Definitely not.

  “You want some coffee or anything before we get sta
rted?” she asked, heading into the kitchen.

  “Yeah, okay,” he said, following her. His lip curled into a sneer as he watched her pop a coffee pod into her Keurig machine. “Really? You’ve got one of those things?”

  “I know, they’re terrible for the environment, but I like the convenience.” She felt guilty about it, but not guilty enough to give it up. It wasn’t like she drank that much coffee anyway.

  “Not only that,” he said, thrusting his chin in the air, “but they make coffee so bad it shouldn’t even be classified as coffee.”

  She rolled her eyes. “It’s not that bad.”

  “Yeah, it is, actually.”

  “You’re a snob, you know that?”

  “I’m not a snob, I just know the difference between good coffee and bad coffee.”

  “You want some cream or sugar to dilute your bad coffee?” she asked when the pod had finished brewing—less than a minute later, and with no effort on her part. Beat that, fancy hipster coffeemaker.

  His sneer deepened. “No.”

  “Your funeral.” Esther pushed the mug toward him.

  He sniffed it and made a disdainful face. “Awful.”

  “Snob.”

  He shrugged. “Fine, I’m a coffee snob, then. Let’s see these notes.” He started to make a move for them, but she snatched them off the table before he could get there.

  “How about I walk you through them?” She carried them into the living room and sat at the far end of the couch. If he read them all straight through, she was afraid he’d get upset. He was probably going to get upset anyway, but she wanted to put it off for as long as possible.

  “Sure, okay.” Jonathan took the other end of the couch and set his coffee on the table, flipping open his MacBook and propping it on his lap. “Shoot.”

  “Um, let’s see…” Esther flipped through the first couple pages, looking for something easy. She didn’t want to dump a nuclear bomb of bad news in his lap right off the bat. “Oh, okay, here we go. Scientists use the metric system, so your asteroid wouldn’t be one hundred miles across, it’d be a hundred and sixty kilometers.”

  His fingers flew over the keyboard as he nodded. “Convert everything to metric. Got it.”