Page 22 of Problematic Summer Romance

“Ah, yeah, the MIT position, right?” Paul nods. “I heard that it comes with a Fermilab project?”

“I’d ask how you know, but…” I glance at Eli, who has moved on from the conversation, and is whispering something in Rue’s ear that has her laughing.

“Whenever I see Eli, he spends approximately twenty minutes catching me up on how amazing you are. That’sbeforehello.”

“And as he speaks, all you can picture is cheddar-orange puke in your lap.”

“Always.” His eyes roam my face. What little he can see of the yellow halter romper I put on for dinner. “You look different. From before, I mean.”

I laugh. “Because I’m not currently eating mac and cheese?”

“No. Because…” His gaze dips down to my collarbones, fleeting. Bounces back to my eyes.

“You look the same,” I say. Paul has always been cute. Wavy light hair, deep dimples. He’s about four years older than me. Attwelve, I was doomed to develop a crush on him, and while hemusthave noticed how I’d blush and disappear into my room the second he set foot in our house, he kindly pretended not to.

“So.” He clears his throat. “Have you made a decision yet? Industry or academia?”

“Not yet, no.”

“You’re leaning toward…?”

I bite my lower lip. What little I ate churns in my stomach.Perennially underfunded ivory tower, or big business that prioritizes monetary gains over scientific curiosity?“When I figure it out, you’ll be the first to know.” And before Paul can utter thebutforming on his lips, I turn to the person across from him. “Hey, Axel,” I tell Paul’s brother.

“Hiya, kid,” he booms, just a little too loud. Axel used to play hockey with Eli in college, and later went on to the NHL, which made himincrediblypopular among my high school classmates, to whom I should never have revealed my connection to him. I can’t deny that he’s attractive, but he was always too much of a protein-shake,Would you like me to lift something heavy for you?jock to truly appeal to me.

Supposedly, he and Eli used to party hard. Supposedly, Axel never stopped.

“Do you still play in…was it Philadelphia?”

It’s as if I asked to borrow his kitten’s entrails for my soup. “Bro.” He shakes his head, crestfallen. He turns to Tisha to ask her to pass the olive oil.

“Impressive,” Paul whispers at me.

I blink. “What just happened?”

“You destroyed my plus-one’s peace of mind in three words, Maya.”

“Oh, shit.”

“He’s with the Pittsburgh Penguins. Philly’s rivals.” He shakeshis head, reproachful. “Do you not follow the ins and outs of the Eastern Conference?”

“I don’t really believe in the concept of team sports. Does that absolve me?”

“I don’t know, let’s ask Axel.”

We regard each other for a few seconds, amused, until Kaede grasps a piece of cantaloupe too big for her mouth. “Are you really here as your brother’s plus-one? I mean, no waya Pittsburgh Penguinwould be snatched up,” I say, raising my voice. Either Axel doesn’t hear me, or he’s not ready to forgive.

“Unfortunately, this Pittsburgh Penguin doesn’t really have the attention span to…”

“Date?”

“Hold a conversation, I was gonna say. As for me, my antibiotic-resistant toenail fungus doesn’t play to my advantage. What about you?”

“Um, when I was a kid I once got a rash on my wrist, but…”

“I meant, are you here alone?”

“Oh.” I laugh. “Yeah.”

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