Wisconsin and Wood chippers #2
"Oh, buddy." Isaac pulls me into a hug, and I let him because I'm sixteen and two months into my first semester, three thousand miles from home, and I almost made a huge mistake. "He was lying. That's what guys like that do. They find lonely kids, and they lie."
"I'm not a kid."
"You're my kid brother, and you're sixteen years old, and that makes you a kid.
" His arms tighten around me. "And I swear to god, Max, if anyone else tries this shit, you tell me.
Immediately. I don't care if I'm in the middle of harvest or buried in work.
You call me, and I will be on the next plane. "
I nod against his chest.
Isaac’s voice is low. “Promise me."
"I promise."
He holds me for another moment, then pulls back and ruffles my hair like I'm five instead of sixteen. "Come on. Let's get food, and you can tell me about your robotics project. The one you've been emailing me about seventeen times a day."
"It's only been like five times."
"Max. It's been seventeen. I counted."
Despite everything that just happened, I laugh.
"He stayed for a week," I tell JP quietly. "Made sure Russell got the message. Checked in with my professors. Met my few friends, and set up a phone call schedule with me."
"Your brother sounds like an amazing guy."
"He's the best." My throat's tight again, and I realize I haven't talked about Russell out loud in years. It's strange how saying it makes it smaller somehow. Less like a thing that almost happened to me and more like a thing that is… past tense, finished, survivable.
"But after that, I just… I couldn't trust anyone who showed interest in me. Because how do I know if they actually like me or if they're just like Russell? How do I know if they want me or if they want the novelty of the genius kid?"
JP's quiet for a long moment. "That's why you need help," he says finally. "Because you can't trust your own judgment, you need people you do trust to help you figure out who's genuine."
"Yeah. Exactly." It sounds so simple when he says it. I've been carrying this thing around for five years like it was too complicated to explain, and JP just… named it. In one sentence.
"Okay." JP nods decisively. "Then yes. We'll help you. Operation Social Integration, phase two: Get Max a Boyfriend."
My hands unclench. Relief. Gratitude. Hope flooding through me all at once. "Really?"
"Really. Although—" JP pauses, a weird look on his face.
"What?"
"Nothing. Just… keep an open mind, okay?"
"JP—"
"Trust me on this one, Max."
I want to push, but JP's expression has gone stubborn. When JP gets stubborn, there's no point arguing. "Fine," I say. "I'll keep an open mind. But you'd better actually help me and not be cryptic and weird about it."
"I'm always cryptic and weird."
"True."
JP picks up his journal again, but he's smiling slightly. "This is going to be interesting."
"Why do you sound like you're planning something?"
"Because I am. Operation Social Integration requires strategy. Planning. Careful execution."
"You're making it sound like a military operation."
"All good dating strategies are military operations." JP's still smiling. "Trust the process, Max."
"That's what you said to Luca, and he ended up with a chaotic art major who keeps stealing his color-coded pens."
"And he's happy."
"Fair point."
JP goes back to his journal, and I flop back against the couch. My shoulders drop. The tight knot under my ribs loosens, just slightly. For about three seconds. Then it's back, because of course it is.
I'm stuck in the space between wanting to find my person, god, that sounds stupid even in my own head, and being terrified there isn't one. Or worse, that I'll fuck it up when I do.
This is going to work. It has to work. Right?
JP calls a house meeting for that evening, which means everyone crammed into the living room.
Del's on the couch with Luca in his lap, looking entirely too pleased with himself.
Haru's cross-legged on the floor, Elliot's claimed the beanbag chair in the corner with his headphones around his neck, and Leo's…
Leo's sitting next to me on the other couch, but he's got a distant look. The one where his brain is clearly running calculations that have nothing to do with what's happening in front of him.
"Should I leave?" Del asks, gesturing to himself and Luca. "This seems like a geek house thing."
"You should definitely stay," JP says from his position in the armchair, the closest thing we have to a throne for our unofficial house leader. "You're our first success story. Living proof that Operation Social Integration works."
The guys laugh. Luca looks smug as hell, settling more firmly into Del's lap and wrapping his arms around his boyfriend's neck.
Show-offs. Both of them.
"So," JP continues, "as you all know, Max has requested to be our next focus for Operation Social Integration."
"I want to help!" Haru says immediately, leaning forward with enthusiasm. "Max is an excellent friend. He deserves a good boyfriend."
"Agreed," Elliot says quietly from his corner, though he's already got one earbud back in. Multitasking as usual.
I look at Leo, who's still got that faraway expression, fingers tapping against his thigh in that pattern he does, one-two-three, one-two-three. Whatever's running in his head right now is loud. I almost ask, but JP's already moving on, and Leo will tell me if he wants to. "Leo?"
He blinks and focuses on me. "Hm?"
"You good? You seem distracted."
"I… yeah. Sorry." He shakes his head like he's clearing cobwebs. "Just thinking about a problem set. But yes. Absolutely. I'll help." There's a weird break in his voice. I can't quite identify what happened. But before I can analyze it, JP's talking again.
"Max wants to date," JP announces, as if he's presenting a thesis. "He's never really done that before, and with our help, he's ready to start."
"The auction was a disaster," I add. "So we need better ideas than that." One charity date auction for the campus LGBTQ+ society. Never again. Like, actually never again.
"The auction was objectively a disaster for Max," JP agrees. "His date insulted him multiple times and made him feel terrible. We're not repeating that mistake."
"Agreed," Leo says, and his voice cuts. "We need to find Max someone who actually appreciates him."
My hands clench reflexively. Warmth spreading down my arms.
"The problem," Leo continues, "is that Max doesn't notice when people are interested in him."
"What? Yes, I do."
"No," Leo says flatly. "You really don't."
"That guy in your Robotics Lab was totally hitting on you last month," Del adds. "Luca told me about it. Said the dude was practically drooling."
"He was asking about my project!"
"He was asking if you wanted to get coffee," Luca corrects. "Three times. You told him you don't drink coffee and walked away."
"I don't drink coffee! That's a factual statement!"
"Max," JP says patiently. "When someone asks you to get coffee, they're not actually asking about your beverage preferences."
"But—"
Wait. I run back through the interaction.
Robotics Lab Guy, I should really learn his name, tall, perpetually rumpled, always finding reasons to linger near my workstation.
The way he'd waited until the room cleared before asking.
The third time, his voice had grown a little uncertain, as if he was bracing for rejection.
He wasn't asking about coffee. He was asking if I wanted to spend time with him. In a low-stakes, easy-to-decline, completely standard human way, and instead of answering him, I responded by delivering a factual statement about my caffeine preferences and walking away.
Three times… "Holy blasters, I'm an idiot."
"You're not an idiot," Leo says immediately. "You just process things differently."
"I process romantic interest like I'm debugging code with no error messages and the manual's in a language I don't speak."
"Exactly." Leo's smiling slightly. "Which is why we're going to help you."
"Okay, but how?" I look around at my friends, my brilliant, socially-awkward friends who decided to live together specifically because we're all bad at this. "No offense, but most of us aren't exactly dating experts."
"I'm an expert," Del says cheerfully. "I successfully wooed the most organized man on campus. I have credentials."
"You're not helping," Luca mutters, but he's smiling.
"Wait! Edgar can help!" I jump up and grab Edgar 3.0 from the shelf where he's been sitting. He's my latest creation, a small robot designed to respond to voice commands and, in theory, to help me learn social cues.
"Everyone, say hi to Edgar," I announce, setting him on the coffee table. "Edgar, activate social protocol." Edgar's LED eyes light up blue. He does a little spin. So far so good.
"Edgar, identify potential romantic interest." He spins again, his sensors whirring as he processes the room.
"Now, everyone tell Edgar what to do. Give him commands. He's supposed to learn to prioritize—"
"Edgar, come here!" Haru calls.
"Edgar, calculate pi!" Leo adds.
"Edgar, dance!" Del laughs.
"Edgar, what's the weather?" Elliot says without looking up.