Resonance – By Monica Ross
RESONANCE
BY MONICA ROSS
The opening drum fill from "Storm Break" rang out from my cell phone, embarrassingly loud in the hush of the Science and Engineering Library.
"Shit. Shit-shit-shit." I dug the phone from my purse and silenced it, mouthing, "Sorry," to the girl sitting at the counter kitty-corner from me. She gave me a look, which I ignored. Instead, I turned my phone screen and read the text from Karst.
What the fuck, Soraya?
Sighing, I shoved my black-framed glasses up on my nose. I knew exactly why his panties were in a wad.
I wanna be in the crowd, Karst. Lemme do this.
No
Don't be a dick.
I'm not. I'm remembering SF
Crap.
Yeah. Me 2 & I need to face my fear.
That earned me three dots, and I practically heard my elder brother's sigh traveling all the way from Austin to smack me upside the head in Los Angeles.
Finally, he replied:
I don’t fcking like it
You don’t fcking have to. If you say no, I’ll get them from Green.
YOU LITTLE PUNK ASSHOLE
Then:
Fine, but if shit goes south, u can’t cry on my shoulder
You know I will & you’ll let me.
Shut up
Smiling, I sent a heart eyes emoji to my brother, then stashed the phone in my purse.
I loved Karsten, and I didn't begrudge him his overprotectiveness.
Not after that San Francisco concert, where an excited crowd had gone all mob-mentality.
I still had a scar where my earring had been ripped out, and sometimes I woke feeling phantom hands grabbing at me.
But that was two years ago. I needed to move past it.
Okay. Focus, Yaya.
Shoving my wavy black hair back, I adjusted my autographed orange McLaren cap and returned to doing drag force calculations. But a few minutes later, my concentration crashed again when Sound Engineering Guy — aka SEG — ambled into the library.
Over the last six weeks, he’d become a regular visitor when I was studying.
Not that I minded. The guy was SEGsy as hell — yes, I am that shallow and childish.
He had this kinda young, vulnerable Enrique Iglesias vibe that I just wanted to dig into.
Today, he wore jeans, a pale gray tee shirt, and his blue hoodie.
SEG had thick, wavy dark hair, a strong jaw, and soft full lips.
The small dark mole low on the right side of his jaw made him stand out just a bit, as did the very solid biceps challenging his sleeves.
Wouldn’t mind him applying some downforce to me. I almost snorted aloud at my own stupid engineering joke.
Normally, Sound Engineering Guy sat at the counter, close enough that I noticed everything about him but far enough that I could act like I didn't. But today, Disapproving Chick had his usual spot.
He scanned the area, and I snapped my gaze back to my computer.
Seconds later, my heart stalled as the chair across from me was pulled out, and a cell phone thudded onto the table.
I glanced up as SEG dropped his bag on the floor and sat.
Our gazes met.
I smiled.
He smiled.
I glued my eyeballs to my screen while heat crept up my neck.
God. He had beautiful hazel eyes and long, thick eyelashes. They were criminal, I tell you.
"Cool cap."
His voice sounded exactly how I'd imagined — warm and a little gravelly. As I looked up, I spied a tattoo peeking out from under his rolled sleeve, words I’d never gotten close enough to read.
"Thanks." I traced my pencil along the edge of my notebook and looked around.
The adjacent tables had plenty of empty seats — including the counter where he'd studied for the past six weeks, usually with headphones on and his fingers tapping out rhythms. I looked back at him. "McLaren's having a good season."
Oh, nice. Pull out that Formula One nerd card and wave it in his face. Way to hook a hottie, Yaya.
On the other hand, he was in the SEL, so he had to be at least half as dorky as me.
"Yeah? I don't actually know much about F1." He smiled again and, yeah, I got all squidgy at the sight. "But I've noticed you wearing the cap. Every day."
I blushed. “Guilty as charged. I’m a Formula One nerd with a limited wardrobe."
He laughed and pulled his laptop from his backpack, then shoved up his sleeves, revealing light brown skin and the entire black tattoo:
beyond broken, still we soar
"Broken Wing," I said before I could stop myself. "From 'Soar.'"
His eyebrows rose. "You into their music?"
"I’d have to be deaf or dead not to be." Trust me on this.
He laughed. “So you’re a Wingnut?” That’s what the band’s mega-fans called themselves.
“Well, I wouldn’t say that.” I hesitated. "But I have tickets to the RISE L.A. benefit concert next week."
He gaped. "No shit? Those sold out in minutes."
"Yeah." I pressed the tip of my pencil hard against my notebook. I never did what I was doing, asking a guy out. Never . "My friend just backed out. Something about reconnecting with her ex and … whatever." I waved my hand. "Anyway, I have an extra ticket.” I met his gaze. “If you're interested?"
When Jane flaked on me, I thought about skipping the concert, but I needed to deal with this fear of being in a crowd. I hadn’t lied to my brother about that.
SEG stared at me for a moment, then grinned. "Your friend is nuts, and I'm definitely interested. Buuut you don’t even know my name."
"Hah. Right." I dropped the pencil and stuck out my hand. “I’m Soraya.” He grasped it, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love the feel of his warm fingers wrapped around mine. "It's nice to meet you...?"
"Lo — Lobo — Palacios."
A laugh escaped before I could stop it, then I covered my mouth. "Oh god, I'm so sorry."
He chuckled. "No sweat. Everyone laughs. My mom wanted my brother and me to have unique names, so he’s Zorro. It means 'fox' in Spanish."
I tilted my head. "And you're Wolf?"
"Yup. I'm not sure which of us got it worse." He glanced at my notebook, covered in neat rows of equations. "Fluid dynamics?"
"Drag force calculations for Ewell’s Comp Fluid Dynamics class.
Have you taken it?” He shook his head, so I rattled on, of course.
“He always gives an optional extension question, so I’m recalculating the drag force on a Formula One car after a five percent reduction in its drag coefficient, then discussing the potential impact of the change on the car’s performance …
." I got all excited, then caught myself. I grimaced. "Sorry, you probably don’t think that’s nearly as fun and interesting as I do. "
Lo smiled again. He needed to stop pulling out that big gun before it knocked me off my chair.
"Not true. Sound waves are essentially fluid dynamics in air.
" He opened his own computer, its case plastered with audio equipment stickers.
"I'm working on acoustic flow modeling for my thesis project.
Different application, same principles."
I leaned forward. "Really? I never thought about it that way."
"Most people don't connect car aerodynamics and sound engineering, but it's all about flow patterns." He traced a wave with his hand. "Air over a wing or sound through a concert hall — it’s the same shit."
Lobo's phone buzzed on the table. He glanced at it, but didn’t answer. The screen lit up with a photo of him and a striking blonde, both laughing at something off-camera.
I nodded at it. "Will she mind if you go to the concert with me?"
He grimaced and picked up the phone. “Not her business.” A few taps later, he turned it to show generic landscape wallpaper.
"She’s my ex as of last night. Apparently 'keeping things casual' meant keeping things open for when the fiancé, who I never knew about, returned from Italy.
" He hung his head. "And I probably shouldn't’ve dumped all that on you. We literally just met."
"Well, at least you didn't lead with your tragic backstory."
Lobo grinned. “Heh, true. So what’s yours?”
“My what? Tragic backstory?”
“Yeah. Why is a smart, beautiful chick always in the engineering library? Spend too much time memorizing F1 trivia and not enough time hitting on sound engineering nerds?”
I wasn’t about to share my background with him, so I raised an eyebrow. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, you know that?”
He cocked his head to the side. "Nah. I’m just trying to figure you out.”
I leaned back, tapping my pencil against my notebook. “I could give you a list of reasons, but basically I like the challenge.”
“Of what?”
“Automotive engineering and F1. They’re all about precision — engineering, strategy, pushing boundaries.” I side-eyed him. “I bet the same goes for sound design. So maybe camping here is how I lure in the nerds.”
He laughed at that. "Ahh. Tricky."
I took a breath. "So... about that concert. Since your ex’s opinion is moot, wanna go?"
"Depends. Did you come by those coveted tickets honorably?"
"I did nothing to embarrass my family in acquiring them. I assure you only mild threats were involved." Which was true.
His smile returned to dazzle me. "A woman with determination. I like it." Lobo leaned back, his posture relaxed but his hazel eyes intent on my face. "Are you sure you wanna go with a strange guy instead of a friend?"
I snorted. "No contest. Jane's M.O. at every concert is to scroll through social media while complaining about her feet hurting, or it being too loud, or too crowded.
" I gestured at my notebook. "Also, she called my drag coefficient calculations 'math doodles' yesterday, so she doesn’t deserve that ticket. "
" Math doodles? " Lobo pressed a hand to his chest in mock horror. "Clearly she doesn't appreciate the beauty in fluid dynamics."
"Right? I bet you get the same thing with sound waves."
"Oh yeah. My brother calls my frequency analyses 'squiggly lines.'" He pulled out his own notebook, flipping it open to reveal meticulous graphs and equations. "Zorro's an artist. He thinks anything with numbers is just fancy math."