Chapter 6
John squinted through the magnifying glass, clicking his thumb on a manual counter each time he spotted a tiny, muddy-brown baby snail. Even with magnification, they were barely visible, clinging to the walls of the glass tank in the hundreds.
“One hundred twenty-four over here.” He pulled himself up from a hunch, stretching out his neck and shoulders.
Chris nodded and typed something into his laptop as he gnawed on a pencil, then pulled it out from between his teeth and tossed it across the room.
“Thanks, man.” He leaned back in his seat. Long and lanky, with floppy blond hair that fell over half of his face, Chris looked tired. “Sorry again that I had to cancel our beer and ask you to count snails instead. It fucked up my schedule when they made me change labs, and I had to get these counts done today.”
“No problem.” Small and square, the new lab in the basement of the university’s biology building was cramped. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. “Why’d they move you?”
“They said they needed more space for fossils. I’m told it’s all in the spirit of cooperation. Though I wasn’t feeling entirely cooperative when I had to move five hundred gallons of water containing baby snails from one lab to another.” Chris ran a hand across the glass, the closest he could get to petting his precious cargo. “And did anyone from paleontology call and thank me? Or ask me how my threatened species of snails are doing?”
John rubbed his beard and held back a smile. “I’m guessing not.”
“No, they did not. They’re too busy being loved for studying creatures that died millions of years ago.” Chris gazed at the tank. “No one appreciates these little suckers except me.”
No one loved snails like Chris. And few scientists in the Southwest knew them as well, either.
“You getting good data?” John asked.
“Yeah. I think we’re learning more about the conditions needed to help them reproduce in the lab, and I should be able to get an article about it. I’m getting more pressure to publish.”
“Still think tenure is in the cards?”
Chris stood, shaking out his long arms and legs. His thin Metallica T-shirt complemented the swirls and lines of tattoos covering his arms. As always, Chris looked half white corn-fed farm boy, half rock star. “I don’t know. I don’t even know if I want it. This whole thing where I’m supposed to be a great researcher and a great teacher, all while getting paid shit—I’m not sure it’s for me. You dodged a bullet leaving when you did.”
“Dropping out, you mean?” John tried to smooth the edge in his voice that still popped up when he talked about leaving grad school, even a decade later.
Chris waved a hand freely. “Nah, dropping out would have been if you couldn’t cut it. You chose not to pursue the PhD. You saw earlier than some of us that academia meant a lot less time in the field and a lot more time in places like this.” He motioned to the dreary basement room, letting it make his point for him.
John just shrugged, still tormented by how he’d failed to complete the doctorate he’d set out for, even knowing Chris was right. It had seemed such a natural path for John, but what he’d imagined would be hours outside observing birds had turned into bleary-eyed late nights staring at datasets on his laptop until he couldn’t bear it any longer.
Not that everyone had that experience. Despite his reservations about life in academia, Chris had shone in graduate school, and Breena had always been in a class by herself.
“Breena still seems to be thriving here.”
Chris blew a raspberry and sank back down in his chair, his eyes still on the tank. “Of course she is, you know Breena. Youngest woman to make tenure in the department, rising star of ornithology, blah blah blah.” He flinched, mussing his hair. “Not that I fault her for any of that. We know B is a superstar, and facing way more uphill battles in this field than I ever have. She just makes the rest of us look bad by comparison.”
After completing their PhD work, Chris and Breena had both stayed in Tucson to join the faculty at the University of Arizona. And while they’d all been friends for years, Chris’s attitude toward Breena had cooled markedly after her breakup with John.
“And while I’m thrilled my snails finally started reproducing, I’m sorry it happened just as the bird contest was starting.” Chris looked up from the tank with a smirk. “Though you still haven’t thanked me, by the way.”
“For which part? Pushing me into doing it this year, dropping out at the last minute, or throwing me into one of the most bizarre mornings of my life?”
“All three.” Chris flicked a finger against John’s knee. “Not only did I find you a new partner, but I gave you some excitement. I know you like your quiet life sitting in your woodshop all alone, but even you have to admit that Celeste is fun.”
John’s breath fogged the side of the tank where he was studying the snails. Fun wasn’t quite the word he would have used. Overwhelming, maybe. Enthusiastic, spirited, earnest.
And despite all the reasons he shouldn’t have been excited to have a total novice as his partner for the contest he was betting his future on, he was looking forward to the next six weeks. Birding with Celeste certainly wouldn’t be boring, and he could get great practice guiding.
But that didn’t mean he’d let Chris off scot-free for the mess he’d thrown him into. “I’ll point out that when you called me that night you told me, and I quote, ‘I found you the perfect partner, John. She knows all about birds and she is ready to rock.’?”
“Okay,” Chris admitted. “I may have overstated the case. I swear she mentioned birds at some point, though I was a little distracted. Our instructor, Sheila, had this little purple streak in her hair that just…” He shook his head and hummed low.
John huffed. “I thought you went with Greg.”
John had used to work with Greg, and Chris had been begging him to set them up for months. But knowing the flighty way Chris moved through relationships, he’d been wary of doing so until he had finally left his job.
“I did go with Greg. And he was perfectly nice and certainly hot. But, John…” Chris sighed, leaning forward with his elbows draped on the torn denim of his jeans. “He started talking about buffel grass right away. And you know I hate invasive species as much as the next wildlife biologist, but it just wasn’t what I was looking for on a first date.”
“So you flirted with the painting teacher?”
“I did more than flirt with her.” Chris stared into space for a moment, biting his lower lip. Then he shook his head and sat up straight. “We’re not talking about Sheila, anyway. We’re talking about Celeste. And how everything went more perfectly than I could have imagined. The girlfriend thing was a stroke of genius; I’m actually sad I didn’t come up with that idea in the first place. I bet Breena almost went feral seeing you with somebody.”
She’d been more cold than feral, but John didn’t understand either reaction. She’d been the one to make it clear John wasn’t enough for her.
“Why did you even tell Celeste about Breena anyway, if you were talking about birding?”
“You know how these things go.” Chris waved a hand in the air, moving off his stool to shift some banker’s boxers around on a long plastic table. “One thing leads to another, and before long I was getting all worked up again about that stupid genius.”
That “stupid genius” had been one of the foremost experts in the world on bird evolution, his books some of the bibles of John’s time in grad school with Breena. He’d recognized him from the book jacket when, having driven to Phoenix to surprise Breena at the conference she was attending, he’d found her pushed against the wall of a hotel hallway, being kissed by said stupid genius.
“It was just kissing,” Breena had argued later, as if kissing itself wasn’t intimate. But the real heartbreak had been the dreamy look in her eyes when she’d talked about how amazing the guy was, how brilliant and accomplished.
She’d never had that look in her eyes for John.
His phone pinged in his pocket. Then pinged again, and again.
Chris chuckled. “Sounds like Mama Maguire is checking in.”
John’s mom did love sending texts, especially ones asking for updates from “all her boys” on the family text thread. But this string of texts wasn’t from his mom.
CELESTE:Hi. So…
CELESTE:I had this idea I wanted to run by you.
CELESTE:My coworker is always trying to set me up with her dentist cousin.
CELESTE:I don’t have anything against dentists. They do important work. But like I told you, I don’t want to date and I’m sick of everyone either trying to set me up or feeling sorry for me.
He was already feeling less pressure knowing that Linda and other people in his life seemed happy that he was dating again, even if they didn’t know the truth.
The texts kept pouring in.
CELESTE:So what I’m wondering is… will you be my boyfriend?
CELESTE:The fake kind. You know? Just for a couple of social events? Like I’m doing for you?
CELESTE:
The telltale dots of a composing message blinked on the screen just before one more message from Celeste popped up.
CELESTE: I know you’re a quieter person than I am, and this might not be up your alley. But I’ll do all the heavy lifting with my coworkers. And I’d really appreciate it.
Chris cleared his throat loudly. “Who’s that? And why are you looking like that?”
John shifted his phone out of view. “Like what?”
“That.” Chris motioned to his face. “You have a little goofy smile thing going on.”
“Oh.” He relaxed his face, letting the smile drop. He and Celeste had had a quick text exchange on Sunday, confirming details of their upcoming hike, and he’d had the same reaction. She had a gift for emoji usage.
“It’s Celeste.” He turned his phone face down on top of the snail tank. “She wants me to go to some things with her. So her coworkers think she’s seeing someone.”
Chris narrowed his eyes. “Like her boyfriend?”
“Just for a couple of social events, she said.” He didn’t imagine he could say no, not after she’d made such a huge commitment with the contest. “I owe her, right?”
Chris leveled his sapphire eyes at John. “Yeah, you owe her. But can you handle it, with her people? It’s one thing in your own territory—all these birding people know you’re pretty quiet and unassuming, and they’ll basically take anything you say at face value. With Celeste’s coworkers, you might need to sell it a little more.”
“Sell it how?”
Chris sighed, running his hand through his hair. “By acting like a typical boyfriend, John. I rarely saw you even touch Breena in public. And that’s fine for that to not be your style, but you want Celeste’s friends thinking she has a nice new guy, right? Not a statue who grunts in response to questions.”
“I don’t grunt.” The answer itself betrayed him, low and rumbling. He did much prefer his intimacy behind closed doors, where he’d blissfully spend hours showing a woman how he felt about her. But in public, especially in groups, he tended to stay largely inside his own head and keep his hands to himself.
“We’re talking hand-holding, pet names, long strokes down the spine,” Chris continued, his eyes going a little dreamy. Chris loved to flirt, and John had seen him in action enough times to know he was a pro. “Don’t tell her yes if you’re just going to show up and act like a piece of cardboard.”
John stared at his shoes. “I’m not a piece of cardboard.”
Chris approached him, grabbing his face tight in his hands and tipping it up. “Anyone who really knows you understands that, John.” Chris dropped his hands and dragged a stool over to sit in front of him. “But if you do this with Celeste, just be ready to step outside your comfort zone a little, so her friends really know what a great catch she got.”
John exhaled and grabbed his phone before he could think better of any of it and responded:
Of course, I owe you. We can talk details Saturday.
They were meeting that weekend for their first real birding outing. He’d already assured her that he’d bring along binoculars and a guidebook for her, and she’d sent a string of fireworks emojis when he’d suggested a long trail in the Catalina Mountains, proclaiming it one of her favorites.
Before he could stow his phone back in his pocket, Celeste’s replies came flying through.
CELESTE:
CELESTE:
As he put his phone away he caught Chris watching him closely, smirking. “I really did set a wonderful series of events in motion.”
John just rolled his eyes, unwilling to give his friend any ammunition. No reason for Chris to know how the swing of Celeste’s ponytail had set its own easy rhythm in his mind, or how he’d thought of her the night before as the smell of his peppermint tea filled his small kitchen.
He cleared his throat. “The dating stuff is just a sideshow. We’ll really just be birding. Don’t try to make it more than it is.”
Chris sighed, standing up and stretching his arms over his head. “Sure, buddy. Whatever you say.”
“Christopher.”
Chris stuck out his bottom lip. “Don’t go stern on me, John. You know that’s the only time I find your beard even slightly attractive.” He held out his hands innocently. “All I’m saying is that I think you and Celeste will work well together, and I wish you the best. And you’re welcome.”
John just shook his head. “I didn’t say thank you.”
“But you will, believe me.”