SUNDAY EVENING
As long as Aria Fischer had known him, Ryan Thompson had always been a combo genuine science/science-fiction geek. One wall of the basement game room in his parents’ house paid homage to three sci-fi flicks from the 1950s. A vintage poster of The War of the Worlds, a bona fide classic, hung between repro lobby cards for two kitschy B-movie favorites, Flight to Mars and Killers from Space. Mystery Science Theater 3000, which celebrated and skewered exactly that kind of show, flickered on the big-screen TV in the corner. With his goofy grin and curly cap of hair—not to mention his social awkwardness—nerd was too charitable a word to describe Ryan, in most circumstances. But tonight, thanks to the wine Aria had generously sampled—her teenage eff you to the pedestal her parents had put her on—she didn’t mind the nerdiness so much. In fact, she had always found Ryan to be kind of cute, and this feeling grew on her as their conversation smoothly flowed like the forbidden alcohol down her throat.
Sitting cross-legged on the carpet, they leaned against the foot of the sofa, chuckling at the wisecracks of Joel Robinson, Tom Servo, and the MST3K gang as they watched Women of the Prehistoric Planet. The lacquered coffee table in front of them was littered with pale rings of condensation from their red Solo cups and a dust of snack crumbs from the mostly empty bowls of chips and cookies.
Ryan lifted the bottle of wine he’d snuck out of the wine cellar, offering it to Aria. “Want to finish this off?”
She knew she shouldn’t. She had been pouring herself glass after glass to the point where she’d lost count. It was her first time drinking, but she already knew she was drunk. Too drunk to act like she wasn’t.
She nodded anyway and offered him her half-full cup. “Sure.”
As Ryan poured, Aria admired the ripple of his arm muscles, developed over years of playing Little League and high school baseball. His parents had made him play, insisting he couldn’t spend all his time indoors poring over science journals, playing video games, and binging on old sci-fi movies. It had paid off. The more her eyes roved his body, the more she found to appreciate. Brains and brawn with a touch of sensitive in one attractive package. You didn’t find that very often.
Her fingers played with the sleeve of his Star Wars T-shirt. “So you were saying there are plants in your backyard that can kill people?” Aria asked, her voice drunkenly loud. Somehow the topic had turned to plants—the villainous side of them, of which Ryan was apparently an expert. “Why do you have lethal plants in your yard?”
“Shh! You want our parents to hear us plotting their murder?” Ryan laughed tipsily and pressed his finger to her lips.
“Sorry,” Aria said between giggles. “So you’re a master horticulturist, huh?”
“No, not quite. Horticulture is the science of growing certain plants. Botany is the study of their properties.”
“If for a moment I doubted your geekiness, that moment is gone, dude.” Aria looked up at him, her vision hazy like smudged glass.
“What? I find botany to be interesting. Especially the mysteries of plants, like how a flower can cause a heart attack. But it’s not like I’m harvesting poisonous plants. The foxglove I grow is actually pretty common in gardens. And it’s only lethal if you eat a bunch of it.”
“Well, I better never get on your bad side. Don’t want you to poison me in my sleep.”
“I wouldn’t do it in your sleep, silly. I’d put it in your food or drink.” He winked, but Aria felt her stomach knot. It was either the low rumble of his words or the alcohol churning in her gut about to make a second appearance.
“You’re freaking me out, Ryan.”
“I’d never poison you, Aria,” Ryan said, his voice shifting to a brighter octave. “I like you too much to do that.”
“You like me, huh? You’re, like, three years older than me. Why would a senior ever be interested in a sophomore?”
“Because you’re smart . . . and beautiful . . . and fun.”
“And drunk,” Aria added.
Ryan’s eyes were all pupil, from booze or lust or both, Aria couldn’t tell. She’d never kissed a boy, but she recognized his posture as that of a boy hoping to lock lips. A casual slant toward her, a subtle shift closer. Aria scooted back to insert space between them. Oddly charming nerd-jock or not, Aria didn’t know if she was ready for her first kiss yet. Especially one she might not remember tomorrow.
“Where are you going? Are you scared of me?” Ryan asked. “I’m not going to bite, you know. Unless that’s what you’re into.” He laughed, a not terribly attractive braying sound, and waited for her to join in. She didn’t. “Uh, sorry, just a little joke. Besides, I know a girl like you would never go out with a guy like me.”
“What do you mean?” Aria felt guilty but she wasn’t sure why.
“You’re popular and I’m not. Guys like me never get the girl.”
“What are you talking about? You’re an athlete. And a freakin’ brainiac too. I thought that equaled instant popularity and chicks.”
He humphed. “Well, that’s a load of crap. Athlete doesn’t necessarily mean popular. So I can hit a ball. Big deal. Girls like me if I have a good game, but off the field is a whole different . . . ballgame.” He grinned, and Aria chuckled.
“I see what you did there,” she said, playing along. “God, you are such a nerd!”
“So I’ve been told. A couple times tonight already.” He shrugged. “No worries. I get it. I’m not your type. Let’s just watch the show.”
Face ruddy with embarrassment, he sat back and fixed his gaze on the movie. A lump settled in Aria’s throat. She wanted to tell him what she really felt—that she liked him, a lot, but that she wasn’t ready to be more than just friends. She wasn’t even sure if she was allowed to date yet. So instead she rested her head on his shoulder in a wordless confession as the world wobbled under the spell of her last gulp of wine.
“I really like you, Aria. Even if only as friends. You’re the best person I know.” Ryan spoke to the empty air in front of him. His words were soft and dreamy sliding over her.
“I like you too, Ryan. Really—nerd and all.” Tipping her face up to his, his lips were so close, his breath hot and moist. Any trace of nervousness had been snuffed out by the adrenaline coursing through her.
Then he leaned in, her heart beat harder, and he kissed her. The kiss didn’t feel like she had anticipated. It was slippery wet. Her mind whirred. She didn’t know what she should be doing with her mouth or hands or tongue. She didn’t know if she should be doing any of this in the first place. As she glided into a soused fog, she vaguely realized they’d already gone past first base.
First base slipped to second base . . . then the room turned on its side as she laid down on the floor.