Han Shot First, It’s Important
Han Shot First, It's Important
MAX
The Uber ride home is… interesting. I'm sandwiched between Leo and JP in the backseat, which normally would be fine except I keep listing sideways into Leo's shoulder. Not on purpose. Mostly not on purpose. Physics. Centrifugal force. Something about one of the two.
"You good?" Leo asks, and his voice is doing that soft, concerned thing.
"'M great." I am great. Everything is great. Except for the guy who grabbed me. He wasn't great. But we're not thinking about him because Leo's shoulder is right here, and it's solid, and when did Leo get such a solid shoulder?
Data point… Leo has good shoulders. I should probably write that down. I look around, but I don't have a pen. Or paper. Or working fine motor control.
"Almost there," JP says from my other side, and I turn to look at him, except that makes the world spin a little, so I go back to Leo's shoulder. Safest place. Leo's shoulder. Excellent structural integrity.
Haru's in the front seat, typing on his phone, probably about tonight; he documents everything. Luca, Del, and Elliot are in another Uber somewhere behind us because we couldn't all fit in one, and honestly, I'm losing track of the logistics here.
My brain is working, though. Working HARD. Because there's a problem, and my brain is good at solving problems. The problem… I'm a twenty-one-year-old virgin who got groped by a stranger and clearly cannot be trusted to navigate the dating scene or the dance floor.
The solution… Still calculating. But there's definitely a solution. I can feel it forming. All the variables are lining up. We pull up to the house, and there's a complicated extraction process. Leo hauls me out of the car while JP gets the door, and I try to remember how legs work.
"Easy," Leo says, arm around my waist… Blast! That's nice. New data point… Leo's arm around my waist = an excellent support system.
We make it inside, and immediately everyone's talking at once. "Max, you okay?" That's Luca, hovering.
"Do you need water?" Haru's already heading toward the kitchen.
"Should someone stay with him?" Elliot, quiet but concerned.
Del's here too, and I think he's asking something, but the words are overlapping, and I'm nodding, trying to track all the voices at once.
"I'm fine," I say, except it comes out more like "'M fine," and that's probably not convincing anyone.
"I got him," Leo says firmly, arm still around my waist. His voice cuts through the chaos.
“Everyone, go to bed." There's a moment of hesitation.
I can feel multiple people looking at me, assessing, but then JP says something in Korean that I don't catch, and suddenly everyone's moving, heading towards their rooms.
"Text if you need anything," Luca calls, and then it's just me and Leo in the hallway.
"Come on," he says, steering me toward his room. "Let's get you to bed."
His room. Right. That makes sense. His room is closer than mine, and also, I might be gripping his shirt a little. When did I start gripping his shirt? We make it inside, and he kicks the door shut behind us, guides me to sit on his bed. I sit and look up at him.
He's backlit by his desk lamp, and his hair is all messy from the club, and there's this little crease between his eyebrows, and he keeps glancing at the door like he's running escape routes. Data point… Leo is… really pretty?
"Okay," he says, crouching down in front of me.
"Shoes first." I try to help. I do. But my hands aren't cooperating, and I end up watching as Leo unlaces my sneakers.
When did I tie them this tight? And he pulls them off.
"There we go." He sets them aside neatly because Leo is constitutionally incapable of leaving shoes in the middle of the floor. "Now let's get you into pajamas."
He crosses to his dresser. Wait… No, that's my drawer, the one I claimed in his room for the nights we have movie marathons or when one of us can't sleep alone. Leo pulls out my Han Solo pajama pants.
"These work?" he asks, holding them up.
"I shot first," I tell him seriously.
He blinks. "…What?"
"The pants. Han shot first. It's important, Leo."
"Okay." He's trying not to smile. I can tell. "Very important. Can you stand?" Standing. Right. I can do that. Except apparently I can't because the world tilts sideways and Leo catches me with both hands on my shoulders. "Whoa, okay. Sit back down."
Sitting. Yes. Sitting is good. He's trying to get my shirt off, and I'm not helping because my brain is still working on the problem and… Oh blast. I'm going to be sick.
"Leo—"
His eyes go wide. "Oh no. Oh no no no—" He hauls me up and practically carries me to his bathroom, and I'm hunched over the toilet, and nothing's happening, and this is humiliating, but also Leo's hand is on my back. Warm. Steady. Rubbing small circles between my shoulder blades. Feels nice.
"It's okay," he's murmuring. "You're okay. Just breathe." I breathe. The nausea passes. Slowly. But it passes. Leo gets me water, makes me take small sips, and the whole time his hand stays on my back and—
Data point… Leo takes care of me. Additional data point… I really like being taken care of. Is that weird? That's probably weird. Don't care. Feels good.
"Better?" Leo asks. I nod. "Okay. Let's try this again." Back to the bedroom. I'm more careful this time, let him do all the work getting me undressed.
My shirt comes off. Then my jeans. I'm standing there in my boxer briefs, the ones with robots on them, because of course they are, and Leo's steady as he holds out the pajama pants.
"Step in." I step and nearly fall, but Leo catches me. It’s a whole process. But eventually I'm dressed, Han Solo pants, matching shirt, and Leo looks relieved, like he completed some kind of engineering challenge.
"Okay," he says. "Teeth. We're brushing your teeth."
"Don't need to—"
"Max. Teeth." He's using his firm voice.
The one that means he's not budging. It's the same voice he uses when he's trying to get me to eat during finals week.
I follow him to the bathroom because arguing with Leo when he's in caretaker mode is pointless.
He's already got my toothbrush. I keep one in here.
It's practical, and he's putting toothpaste on it.
"Open," he says. I open my mouth, and then Leo is brushing my teeth for me like I'm five years old and can't be trusted with basic hygiene.
Except it's not condescending. It's just… careful. His other hand is steadying my jaw, thumb against my cheek, and he's got this focused expression like this is the most important task in the world.
The care in his face. The attention. Hmm. Oh blast. New data point… This is what I want. Someone who takes care of me like this. Leo sees me. Leo's always seen me.
And that guy tonight, that creep who grabbed me, he didn't see me at all.
None of my dates have really seen me. They liked the idea of me, maybe.
The genius kid, the inventor, cute twink, whatever.
But they didn't know about my robot socks, how I can't sleep without white noise, or how I take my chai extra sweet. Leo knows all of that.
"Spit," Leo says. I spit. "Rinse," Leo says. I rinse. He wipes my mouth with a towel, and I'm staring at his face, at the little constellation of freckles across his nose that I never really noticed before, at the way his eyelashes are longer than mine, at—
Blast. What if Leo doesn't want to have sex with me? My brain seems to have jumped here. No. No, I can convince him. I have the data. The data is good. The data is excellent. I just need to present my findings.
"Leo," I say as he steers me back toward the bedroom.
"Yeah?"
"I figured it out."
"Figured what out?" We're at his bed now. He's trying to get me to lie down, but I'm not lying down yet because this is important.
"The plan," I tell him. "The perfect plan."
He sighs. Patient. So patient. "What plan, Max?"
I look up at him. When did he get so tall? Has he always been this tall? I say, clearly, "Losing my virginity to you, of course." Leo freezes. Like, completely stops moving. His hands are still on my shoulders from where he was trying to guide me to bed, but he's just… frozen.
“What?”
"My virginity!" It’s so obvious. Why is he not getting this? "You should take it!"
"MAX—"
"I've thought about this!" I have. For at least twenty minutes. Very intensely. "A lot!"
"You're drunk," he says, and his voice sounds strained.
"I'm logical."
"You're really, really drunk."
"That doesn't make me wrong." I try to sit on the bed but miss slightly, and he has to catch me. Again. "Listen. listen. That guy tonight?"
"The one who grabbed you?"
"Yes. Him. Terrible data set. Unknown variable.
Potential for cat-stratophic, cat.. no catastrophic failure.
" Leo's staring at me. "But you," I continue, because this is important and he needs to understand.
"You're a known variable. I have years of data on you.
You're consistent. Reliable. The R-squared value of our friendship is point-nine-nine-nine—"
"Did you just try to apply statistical regression to our friendship?"
"—and I trust you. That's the most important factor! Trust! You can't have good sex without trust, Leo. That's basic. That's foundational."
His mouth flops open and closed. Then he says. "Max, I don't think—"
"And you're smart!" I'm on a roll now. This is good. This is very good. "You'd research. You'd make sure everything was optimal. You'd take notes… probably."
"I'm not taking notes during—"
"Plus, logistically, you're already here! We live in the same house! We could have sex right now!" I gesture at the bed. "This bed! It's right here! Perfectly functional bed!"
"Logistically??" His voice cracks a little.
"And… and… wait, I had more reasons!" What were the other reasons? My brain is swimming, but I know there are more reasons. "You're pretty!"
Leo's eyes go wide. "I'm what?"