18. Chapter 18
Chapter 18
Peyton
I disembark from the plane onto a muggy jetway, and the repulsive stickiness is further evidence that Atlanta’s not meant to be my home. This is followed by the realization that I’m at gate 1, the farthest exit from the train to the terminal.
But as I drag my wheelie bag through the hustle and bustle, my thoughts jostle to this possibly being my last time in this airport. The city has treated me well. My summer was ripe with opportunity, even if not all the fruit survived the season. But with my long weekend trip to visit the Snazzeh Institute being a success, I must seriously consider leaving.
I squeeze onto a crowded train car. Even with the back and forth and up and down of navigating the airport, the thought of my trip brings a smile to my face. The man squeezed beside me winks at me. Oh dear, he thinks I’m smiling at him.
“I’m so happy to be back in Atlanta and returning to my…” Should I say to my Short-Term Intercourse Monogamy Partner. This isn’t even true—Max was never my STIMP and now he’s not even a friend. But that isn’t the point. I’m merely letting this man know I’m not flirting with him. Best not to include short-term because it might signal availability. “To my Intercourse Monogamy Partner.”
He looks side to side as if to question if the message had been for someone else. The nerve of him to act as though he didn’t just wink at me.
I follow his lead and pretend as though nothing transpired between us by focusing on the screen above the door announcing the next stop. We stop at the A-gates and people grabbing other flights depart, then more people pack on. Next are the T-gates. As usual, this causes a small murmur of confusion for those unfamiliar with the airport and questions buzz about. Why did it go from A to T? Did I miss my stop? Where do I get my bags? Then the overhead announcement broadcasts that the next stop is for baggage claim and ground transportation and the confusion ends.
This is an excellent reminder of the importance of clarity, a live example of how clear phrases such as STIMP are necessary. Yet I myself dropped the short-term . Then it clicks for me why none of my romantic interests have liked the term—I’m signaling availability. My phrasing is saying that I don’t care enough to even fully take myself off the market. I lean onto my bag, heavy with the thought of how I bumbled things with Max all the way along.
But regret must wait. I cannot let myself be distracted from the importance of narrowing in on a decision while my memories of the Snazzeh Institute are fresh. I wish I could list Max as a positive for staying, but I haven’t heard from him, so he must be tallied as a negative.
However, Atlanta does have the advantage of Ashima. And Dr. Wahl has been a delight to work for and wonderfully supportive of my project, though I’m not sure how to weigh Ashima and Dr. Wahl against Dr. Snazzeh and her reputation.
I exit the train and step onto the long, tall escalator to make the slow ascent. Perhaps I should base my decision on the offers themselves, since hard numbers are easy to compare. Dr. Snazzeh’s offer is about ten percent more—
What is that yellow thing? Whatever it is, it has also caught the eye of the children ahead of me. They point and giggle. The escalator edges me closer and closer to the top, and I’m able to see it’s a hat. An oversized cowboy hat that has to be from a party store. As I step off the escalator, with my unobscured view, I realize the person in the hat is none other than Max. He’s holding a stuffed monkey, which he waves at me. I wave back as I rush to him.
I have no idea how he knew I’d be returning now. Well, actually Ashima probably told him, but still, this is such a sweet gesture for him to surprise me like this, while also having a thoughtful present. Tears come to my eyes, and it’s not because the hat is so painfully ugly. Even in his ridiculous outfit, he’s the sexiest man I’ve ever seen. He’s like a male peacock in full strut with straight posture to show off his broad chest and the yellow hat as his crowning glory.
I lean over the metal railing he’s standing behind to throw my arms around him. He tries to make a remark, but I don’t let him. My lips are immediately on his. Our kiss is greedy and urgent. Max puts his hands on each side of my head and stops me.
“You must really like the hat.”
“I like that you’re here. And I like what this must mean, such as you didn’t want to go back to Tris.”
Before he can respond, I kiss him all over his face. Seeing him has filled me with endorphins and I refuse to fight them. “You’re the homing pigeon who has returned to roost.” I give him a knowing look. “The salmon arriving to spawn.”
“Damn girl, talk biology to me.” Then he bends over the railing and scoops me up. When he returns me to my feet, he dips me and plants a huge kiss on my lips. I hear clapping and whistling. Once upright, I notice a little circle has formed around us. I give a little curtsy and this gets another whistle.
I take the stuffed animal from him while he lugs my wheelie bag over the divider. Once we’re all situated, I give him another big hug, smooshing the stuffed monkey between us. I’m so happy he picked me. Unless. “Are you here because Tris rejected you again?”
“Ouch. And no.”
“Did you see her?”
“Yes, because you told me to.” He looks me straight in the eyes. “And it was an awkward, miserable experience, and the whole time I kept mentally chewing you out for making me go. But it made me realize Tris and I really weren’t right for each other and that I must like you an awful lot if I was jumping through hoops for you.”
I hug him. “I’m sorry. You’re right. This has all been so foolish. But I’m so glad you’re here now.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t fight you harder on it. And I’m sorry I jumped to all those weird accusations.”
“I made some rather odd conclusions myself, so I’ll forgive you if you forgive me.”
“Forgiven and forgotten.” He puts the hat on my head and kisses me.
I take his arm as we exit to the hourly parking deck. The underside of the brim has visible spray lines, missed spots, and a rough area where it must have stuck to something. But nonetheless, I’m proud that he likes me enough to wear such a thing to impress me.
People stare at us. I know it’s the hat. This is obvious from the passing comments, but to me they are drawn to us because we’re radiating bliss.
We stop for a crosswalk and I put the hat back on his head. “What are you supposed to be?” I ask.
“You can’t tell? I’m the man with the yellow hat and you’re carrying Curious George.”
“Of course! I love it.” I squeeze his arm. “I should have gotten that, but I think the tail threw me off.”
The cars stop and we make our way across. Then I wave the stuffed monkey butt in Max’s face, and its stuffed tail swishes back and forth. “I’m pretty sure George was a chimpanzee. He didn’t have a tail.”
Max puts a finger in the air. “I actually know this. I googled it. They call George a monkey in the books, so he could be a barbaric macajaw-a-whichie, which doesn’t have a tail.” Clearly, he means a Barbary macaque, but I don’t correct him. “But probably he’s a chimpanzee and the term monkey was being used generically. Either way, all I could find was that little guy. And even then, I had to brave a store full of screaming kids at a Stuff-n-Puff shop.”
A swell of emotions fills my chest. I’ve never felt this strongly about someone before. Though I realize this is only a temporary rush of chemicals that will fade, I’m having trouble deterring the mounting desire to declare my undying love for Max. “I think you should be my boyfriend.”
“Boyfriend.” He pauses to look at me. “Not STIMP.”
“The term boyfriend is problematic. To start, you are a man, not a boy, and my lover, not my friend, but it’s a term that’s understood in our society. I’d like something longer term, so STIMP is no longer the right acronym. And Long-Term Intercourse Monogamy Partner doesn’t make a very good acronym. L-TIMP or LIMP both leave something to be desired, especially L-TIMP. It sounds the opposite of a stable relationship, like it’s Spanish for a quick fling—el temp.”
“I think I’d pick el temp between the two. I’d have to swallow a lot of pride to call myself your LIMP.” He gives my hand a squeeze. “But for you I would.”
“No need. I’m willing to accept the term boyfriend and all that it implies.” I kiss him. “You’ve swept me off my feet and I’m throwing logic out the window. At the moment, I feel like I want to be with you forever.”
And to this, he truly does sweep me up in a dizzying twirl.
When I float into work on Monday morning, I can’t imagine anything happening that could make my day any better. Max returning and then sharing the simple pleasure of sitting next to one another while we had our coffee filled me with joy.
This has made my decision on which offer to accept all the easier. As I pass by Dr. Wahl’s office, I pop in to see if he is available to talk.
“Good morning, Peyton. Please come in.”
I take a seat in front, pulling the chair close to the front of his desk. “I wanted to let you know the reason I took Friday off was to visit the Snazzeh Institute. I’ve been made an offer.”
Dr. Wahl frowns. “She had hinted as much. The Snazzeh Institute is a fine establishment. I imagine you are considering accepting.”
“Both programs are well regarded, so it’s a difficult decision.”
“Well, I have some good news to sweeten the pot here. We’ve been approved to hire two people. The second person would be to assist your project so you’ll handle the interviewing process.”
“That is good news.” I sit a bit straighter. My offer at the Snazzeh Institute doesn’t include any direct help. “That most definitely sweetens things. I do, however, have one remaining concern, which is salary. The Snazzeh Institute salary is ten percent higher.”
“We should be able to match that. I’ll contact HR about updating the offer.”
And staying in Atlanta is looking even better now and is definitely the opportunity knocking the loudest. My decision couldn’t be easier.
When I arrive in my shared office, Harris stops typing, and he greets me with a good morning. On the trip, the dynamic between us shifted—I’m no longer the enemy. Sharing an office might actually become a pleasurable experience. To be fair, it’s only a couple of days in our new truce state, but it feels as though we’ve turned over a new leaf in our relationship.
He puts a leg across his knee and relaxes in his chair. “Did you hear the rumor?”
“No, what’s that?”
“Word is there’s going to be another opening. Hope it’s good. I’ll be applying.”
“What else have you heard?”
“That’s it. Why? Do you have more details?”
I study his face. He doesn’t appear to be playing coy. “The opening is to support my project, Shuggazoom.”
He squints his eyes and does a funny little head shake. “Wow. That’s awesome. Good for you.” The news seems to malfunction him, and he continues making his weird face. But then he bites his upper lip. This must be a reboot move, because he settles.
I can’t help but laugh and he gives a chuckle of his own.
“Really. Congratulations. You’ve earned it.”
“Thanks.” I turn around and power my computer. Then I spin back to Harris. “And you should apply. I’ve heard that you have relevant experience.”
He leans back and gives me a big smile. “Okay. I will.”