Resonance – By Monica Ross #2
I leaned forward to look at his work, catching a faint scent of coffee and something woodsy. "These are beautiful. The way the waves interact..." I traced the air above one graph. "It's like watching flow visualization in a wind tunnel."
Lobo’s eyes widened. "You've actually used a wind tunnel?"
I nodded. "Formula SAE team.” That was a collegiate competition where engineering students built and raced small open-wheel cars. “We can access one for testing our car designs." I loved his enthusiasm for the same shit I geeked out about. "I might be able to get you in next time we go."
“That would be awesome .” Lobo's crooked smile returned. “First the concert and now a wind tunnel? I definitely owe you dinner." Uncertainty flickered across his face. “Unless you don’t date dudes or anyone else, which is cool, then we can be buddies… annnd… I’m-just-gonna-shut-up-now.”
"I like dudes and dates, Lo." I adjusted my cap, a nervous habit. "But full disclosure — I've watched you study here for six weeks, and I may have googled sound engineering programs just so I'd have something smart to say if you ever talked to me."
He squinted and said, “Admitting that hurt, right?”
I mirrored his expression as I nodded. “Yeah.”
"Well, I've been trying to learn F1 terminology for the past month. I know exactly three things: DRS, slipstream, and something about porpoising, which honestly sounds made up."
"It's not made up!" My outburst drew a few glares from nearby students. Lowering my voice, I added, "I'm impressed you know about it. That's some deep-cut F1 tech talk."
"I may have binge-watched a few seasons of Drive to Survive ." Lobo's smile softened. "Inspired by Math Doodles Girl."
Holy. Shit. Is he for real? Please let him be for real.
I’d had too many disappointments over the span of my short dating life to fully leash the Doubt Beast that lived in my head. It generally didn’t trust the male half of our species, with pretty good reason based on my history.
"Wow. You’re the first guy who’s binged F1 reality TV to impress me." I met his eyes and decided. "So it’s a first date? The concert?"
"No." He grinned. "Coffee, now, at Books-n-Brews is the first date." The way he dropped his chin to look at me from beneath his dark brows was freakin’ adorable. "If that's cool with you, Soraya?"
My heart did a little skippity-skip at his directness. "That's definitely cool with me, Lo."
I gathered my books, hyperaware of him as he did the same. Our eyes met again, and I smiled, then he smiled, which made me blush.
God, were we gross? Or cute? And was I totally setting myself up for disappointment?
Again?
Books-n-Brews occupied a narrow space between a vintage record store and a bike repair shop. The scent of coffee and old paperbacks hit me as we walked in. String lights crisscrossed the ceiling, casting a warm glow even in the afternoon sun.
"So what's your preferred poison?" Lobo asked as we reached the counter.
"A black eye." I grinned at his raised brow. "What? Automotive engineers run on caffeine and obstinacy."
He snorted. "And this sound guy needs a macchiato with two pumps of vanilla."
"Ooo, you’re fancy."
He laughed and turned to the barista. "We'll take both." He pointed at the display case. "Wanna split a chocolate muffin?"
"Absolutely, but promise not to judge how many napkins I use. Chocolate pastries are serious business."
"Noted." He paid and led me to a small table near the window. "So, I heard Broken Wing is gonna play the full Wreckage album."
"Yeah, including 'Soar'."
"Seriously? That's like their holy grail song. They never do it live, and they're..." Lobo trailed off, watching as I arranged my napkins with military precision. A smile tugged at his mouth.
"What?"
"Nothing." He shook his head. "Just interesting that the girl who calculates drag coefficients for fun also needs four napkins for one pastry."
"Five." I added another to my stack. "And yes. Structure and chaos, that's my brand. Speaking of which..." I pulled out my phone. "What else do you think they’ll include in the set?" Like I didn’t know.
“Oh, man, I hope they do some stuff from Horizons . That’s such an amazing album.”
“Yeah?”
He sipped his drink, then lowered it and nodded. “Totally. ‘Yayaya’ is one of the best songs ever produced. Structurally brilliant and hella fun to dance to.” He pulled out his phone. “Here, I’ll show you.”
Our heads bent together over his screen as he explained fundamental frequency, harmonics, and overtones.
Every now and then our fingers brushed as we shared the muffin, but Lobo didn’t pull away or apologize.
Instead, he brushed my hair back over my shoulder when it fell across the phone, bumped my leg with his, touched my hand to get my attention.
It was sweet. He was sweet. But the Doubt Beast seized every opportunity to sniff the air and grumble about guys who were too good to be true, and how many times had I been burned? I wished it would just shut the fuck up.
Lo finished his macchiato and cleared our cups to the bus tub. “You know a fuck-ton about Broken Wing.”
I shrugged. "Seattle girl. They’re basically required listening."
"Mandatory, huh?" His crooked smile made another appearance.
"Yessir. You have to be a fan if you want residency. It's enshrined in the state constitution." I ticked off points on my fingers. "'Drink coffee. Never carry an umbrella. Own no less than two Broken Wing albums.'"
"All that tyranny chased you down to L.A.?"
"Something like that." I folded two unused napkins and put them in my purse, avoiding his eyes. There were other reasons I'd put distance between myself and Seattle, but I still wasn't ready to share my backstory.
He sat back and looked thoughtful. “I’ve been to Seattle a few times.”
“Yeah? And?”
“I think it’s awesome. I’d live there in a heartbeat.
” His eyes lit up as he leaned forward, resting his arms on the table.
“It’s got big city culture without the twenty-four/seven rush you find here, plus an amazing music scene, and actual seasons .
” Lo grinned. “Like, Seattle gets snow. What’s not to love? ”
"It’s not that I don’t love the Pacific Northwest. The town where I grew up, Temptation, is beautiful. Close enough to Seattle to do cool shit there, but far enough to avoid all the problems that come with an urban city.”
“Okay. So why here?”
“I guess I just needed some space to be my own person." I grimaced. "Sorry, that's super cliché."
He shrugged. "Nah, I get it. Sometimes you gotta figure out who you are away from who everyone expects you to be."
His easy acceptance loosened the grip I kept on my secrets. Just a little.
"Seattle's great, but... I dunno." I traced the brown ring his macchiato left behind on the table. "People there thought they knew me. Or thought they wanted to know me for all the wrong reasons."
"Yeah?" He leaned forward. "Sounds like Soraya's got a tragic backstory."
My phone buzzed, making me jump. A text from Karst lit up my screen:
Want me to get you backstage?
I flipped the phone face-down. "Not really. Just family stuff." I forced a smile. "You know how it is."
"I do." Lobo glanced away and suddenly seemed more vulnerable as he rubbed his hands together. "My brother?"
"Zorro."
"Yeah. He's crazy talented. Like, galleries-in-New-York-City-and-art-auctions talented. And our folks never let anyone forget it." He ran a hand through his dark hair. "Especially me."
My chest tightened at the honesty in his voice. He was sharing while I sat on my secret because I didn’t know how to trust anymore. I opened my mouth to tell him, to just get it over with?—
"Whoa, it’s almost three.” He showed me his watch. “Got class or anything?"
Two forty-two. "Yeah. I’ve got a lab." We stood. "But this was awesome."
That crooked smile returned. "Nice enough to do it again before the concert? Or study together in the SEL? No pressure or anything.”
"That'd be cool." I pulled out my phone. "Share your info. I'll text you the concert details."
As he tapped his screen, I studied him. The guy was so open and genuine.
I should tell him now.
Instead, I said, "Thanks for coffee.”
He followed me from the shop. "Thanks for being a good excuse to avoid doing ambisonics equations."
“I don’t even know what those are, but you’re welcome.” I checked the time on my phone. “Gotta jet. I’ll text you. By-eee!”
His laugh followed me, and I felt his eyes on me until I turned the corner. My phone buzzed again as I speed-walked to my control systems lab.
Another text from Karst:
Srsly, Yaya, lemme send a car
Nope. Taking a friend. Want the regular experience.
Who? Jane?
Not ur biz.
Is too, Soraya-sis
Is not, dickweed.
FINE. VIP entry = no lines
NO. Normal ride. Normal entry. Normal night.
I shoved my phone in my pocket, then pulled it out again when it chimed. Lo had sent an F1 meme. I cracked up, then replied with an Alice in Wonderland rabbit hole gif.
His response came quickly:
UR on to me. Watching F1 instead of studying
I was still grinning when I walked into lab. My phone buzzed one last time.
Fine, be stubborn. But text me if u change ur mind. Luv u, Yaya
I stared at my brother's message and tried not to feel guilty for keeping shit from Lo. But damn it, I wanted one normal night with a guy who liked me for my napkin organization and math doodles.
Just one fucking night before everything got complicated.
I stared at my reflection, second-guessing my third outfit for the fourth time.
The brown vintage Broken Wing tee shirt I'd stolen, er, borrowed from Karst years ago looked perfect with my black jeans and Docs.
I was a tee shirts and sweats kinda girl, so paying attention to my clothes was annoying.
“Stop it, Ya,” I muttered. “You look fine and not at all like you spent an hour deciding what to wear.”
My phone lit up with an alert from my rideshare driver.