Experimental Affection (The Quantum Hearts #1)

Chapter 1

Chapter one

Ash hated going to the bars with their friends.

They avoided it for the last four months while they finished their dissertation, but now that that was over, they had no excuse.

It wasn’t that they didn’t love their friends; no, it was that they were all in happy, fulfilling relationships, and Ash was still painfully single.

Hell, they were all married, and Ash felt like they were just starting their life.

Grad school had a way of doing that to you, leaving you feeling left behind while your friends grew up and moved on.

While their friends spent the last five years becoming adults and settling into their lives, Ash was finally about to start their first job—which was the only reason Ash had agreed to go out with them tonight.

“What about that guy over there?” Trixie asked, pointing with her index finger tipped in a long, neon green nail towards a man chatting with his friends a few feet away.

Ash slid their gaze over to the man—a skinny white guy, sitting casually at the table, one arm draped across the back of the bench and the other holding a beer. His shaggy blond hair fell into his eyes behind the glass frames perched on his nose.

“Eh.” Ash shrugged, playing along. “He doesn’t seem like my type.”

“Not your type? What, you don’t like cute, nerdy, blond boys?” Sage asked, wrapping their hand around the stem of their wine glass.

The man turned in Sage’s direction, a blush creeping up his cheeks. Sage waved to the man and then turned back to Ash. “See? I could get him for you.”

“What about that girl over there?” Michael asked as he gestured to a tall, curvy woman in the corner. Her knee-length black dress hugged her curves, showing off her beautiful figure. Long, wavy brown hair cascaded down her back as she laughed at something one of her friends said.

“That girl could hit me with her car, and I would thank her,” Ash gawked. She was stunning.

“You should go talk to her,” Michael said, elbowing Ash in the ribs.

Ash ripped their gaze from the beautiful woman to stare, dumbfounded, at Michael. “Yeah, and say what to her?”

“Just go say hi. What’s the worst that could happen?” Trixie asked, shaking her head, strands of green hair falling into her amber eyes.

“She could make me forget my own name.”

Ash’s friends burst into laughter, which didn’t make Ash feel any better.

Ash knew their friends were only trying to help, but they always made Ash feel inadequate, like they couldn’t get a partner on their own.

Ash sipped their beer and glanced around the bar.

It was a small brewery in their college town, one where only the locals hung out.

Occasionally, drunk college kids would stumble in, realize it was not a club, and meander out while everyone stared at their retreating frames.

Ash and their friends had discovered this place while on the hunt for a weekly trivia game.

Light wood tables filled the space, alongside booths and short metal chairs.

In the front corner sat a pool table that was always busy.

Large calandrias lined the room, metal tubes disappearing into the ceiling.

“Well, I still think you should talk to her,” Sage said, pushing the square frames of their glasses up their nose.

Ash took a long sip of their drink, but before they could answer, Michael swooped in with a change of subject.

“Let’s get to why we’re really here tonight.” Michael lifted his nearly-empty pint toward the center of the table. “Congratulations, Ash—or should I say, Doctor Asher Pierce, PhD?”

Trixie lifted her glass to Michael’s. “We are so proud of you, Ash. Who gets a PhD in fucking chemistry?”

Ash let out a laugh as Sage lifted their cup. “We missed you these last few months, but yeah, we’re super proud.”

Ash moved their nearly-empty drink to meet their friends’, their glasses clinking loudly. Ash finished their drink in one large sip and moved to stand. “I’ll get our next round.”

Their friends rattled off complex drink orders, which Ash had to write down on their phone, and then they made their way up to the bar.

After trying to order without stumbling over their words—and subsequently failing—Ash sat on one of the uncomfortable wooden stools.

As they waited for their drinks, Ash was able to relax for a minute for the first time in months.

Working against an unrealistic deadline made the last semester hell.

Ash finished their research for their dissertation and then had to put the data together, analyze it, and write the damn thing.

After many sleepless nights, seven too many packets of ramen, and enough Red Bull to give a horse a heart attack, Ash made it.

They defended their thesis, got their PhD, and landed a job as a professor.

Binghamton wasn’t the most prestigious school compared to places like Cornell or Harvard, but as the marketing team liked to say, it was the “premier public Ivy”.

So when they asked Ash to teach physical chemistry in the fall, they couldn’t say yes fast enough.

P-Chem was their best subject, and their favorite professor announced her retirement in the spring.

Ash wasted no time telling their doctoral advisor they were interested in the position if everything went well with their defense, and today, they signed their contract.

In three months, Ash would start their job.

“Is this seat taken?” a low voice with a southern twang asked from beside Ash.

Ash turned to see a light-skinned man with piercing green eyes looking down at them. Curls of light brown hair dusted his forehead and crept down his neck. “Uh, yes.”

The man blinked in surprise, and his lips parted slightly. “Oh, okay.”

“I mean, no, it’s not taken. Yes, you can sit here.” The burning hell of embarrassment crept up Ash’s neck onto their face.

The man let out a low chuckle. “Thank you.” He sat beside Ash and folded his arms on the bar. Large biceps stretched the sleeves of a tight black t-shirt while blue jeans hugged his strong thighs and fell over cowboy boots.

The first thought that ran through Ash’s mind horrified them—they wanted this man to throw them around in bed.

Ash looked down at their thin frame, covered by a too-small Marvel shirt, too-large black jeans, and dirty sneakers, suddenly feeling impossibly tiny.

“I like your boots.” Really, Ash? That’s what you say?

The man looked down at his boots and gave Ash a brief smile. “Thanks,” he said. “I’m Luke.”

“Ash. Have you been here before?” Ash asked, wanting to keep the conversation going with the beautiful stranger.

Luke nodded. “Nearly every week. My buddies and I come after work on Fridays. You?”

“Not in a while, but my friends and I frequented here during undergrad.”

Luke raised his eyebrows. “Were you like those drunk kids who stumbled in without knowing this was a townie bar?”

Ash laughed. “Actually, no. We aren’t dancing people; we just want a quiet space to talk and have a drink.”

Luke glanced briefly over his shoulder before turning back to Ash. “Can I buy you a drink?”

Ash blinked a few times in shock. This man wanted to buy them a drink? Ash had half a mind to look around for Ashton Kutcher and the crew from ‘Punk’d’. Ash opened their mouth to answer just as the bartender appeared with the tray of drinks Ash ordered.

“Or I can reimburse you for that one?” Luke let out a laugh. God, his laugh was sexy. It started deep in his chest and rolled out of him like distant thunder.

“I should bring these back to my friends, but I’ll be right back. Because yes, I would like that very much.”

Ash gathered the drinks and rushed over to their friends, who watched them approach with smirks. Ash doled out the drinks and then ran a hand over their newly-buzzed head.

“Are you talking to someone?” Michael asked, his glasses sliding down his nose again.

“Yes.” Ash’s breaths were shallow. “And he wants to buy me a drink. I know this was our night to spend together, so I can tell him no-”

Trixie cut them off by raising their hand. “If you don’t go over there right now, I will drag you back to that sexy cowboy by your fucking ear.”

“She’s right,” Sage said. “We’ve been trying to get you to hook up with someone for years now. We’re not letting up just because we haven’t seen you in months. You’re staying in town; we can get together whenever we want.”

“Are you sure?” Ash asked, wringing their hands.

“Ash,” Michael said, turning to Ash fully. “Go get him.”

“Fuck, I love you guys.” Ash grabbed their drink and made their way back towards Luke.

Ash felt their skin catch fire under Luke’s stare as they approached him. “You came back,” he said.

“Did you think I wouldn’t?” Ash asked, sitting back down.

Luke shrugged. “Fifty-fifty.”

“Well, I’m here,” Ash said. “What are you drinking?”

Luke’s hand was wrapped around a pint glass as he turned the empty can towards Ash. “Vodka pink lemonade.”

Ash had to resist the urge to burst out laughing. Not because men couldn’t drink pink lemonade, but because, based on Ash’s first impression, they thought Luke would drink IPA. But that was the thing about stereotypes—they were rarely true.

“In a can?” Ash furrowed their brow.

Luke raised a brow. “For someone who frequents this bar, I’m surprised you don’t know they started a canned cocktail line. They have vodka pink lemonade, vodka soda grapefruit, and whiskey cider.”

Ash dropped their jaw. “No fucking way. I don’t come here for a few months, and they put my favorite drink in a can?”

This elicited another rumble of laughter from Luke. “Would you like one?”

Ash looked down at the lager they ordered and weren’t enjoying. “Very much so.”