Chapter 22

JACK

The rain does its job and soaks us completely through. The air-conditioning of the hotel makes everything feel colder. Rooney’s hand is still in mine. I keep a lookout for Kenneth just in case it was him. From what it looked like, though, he was going into the Space Center.

Rooney’s cardigan and pants are drenched, and she has no luggage.

“You can borrow some clothes,” I offer. When she nods, I lead us to my room, which isn’t fancy by any stretch of the imagination. There’s a bed, a dresser, a nightstand, and a chair in the corner. It’s small, but it’s not as cramped as the rocket. I’m both relieved and disappointed by this.

“I feel like my bones are wet,” Rooney says as she peels away her cardigan and kicks off her shoes at the door.

“Let me get you something to change into,” I say, leaving my jacket and shoes next to hers. I present Rooney with a choice of a blue button-down or a white T-shirt.

“Do you have anything red?” she jokes, taking the blue button-down. “I’ll go with this. Less, uh, see-through.”

It’s an image I know I won’t be able to get out of my head anytime soon. An internal burst of heat pushes back against the room’s chill.

While Rooney changes in the bathroom, I put on a dry white T-shirt and gym shorts. My skin is still damp but at least my clothes aren’t. Rooney comes out wearing my shirt, the length of it hanging down to the middle of her thigh. I keep my eyes trained on her face.

“Blue’s not my color, but at least it’s dry,” she says. Her hair is still wet, her bangs plastered across her forehead. She sits on the side of the bed, watching me. Without her signature color, a new shade of Rooney emerges. She seems more vulnerable with her shield of red yarn gone.

I lower myself onto the other side of the bed across from her. It makes a creaking noise that breaks the tension between us. Rooney’s the first to laugh. I follow her lead and turn to face her.

“So…” I start.

“Yeah,” she says, nodding like there’s an unspoken agreement between us.

“That can’t happen again,” I say.

“Completely agree,” she says, tucking her legs under herself. “We got caught up in the moment.”

“It was a really tight space.”

Rooney sits up on her knees, gesturing with her arms. “It’s like the thing we do. We walk, talk, kiss at the end. Totally normal.”

I move toward the center of the bed and cross my legs. “Right. It wasn’t the first time, but it has to be the last.”

We fall quiet, staring at each other. My eyes drop to her lips. She’s not wearing lipstick today, but they’re still a little red from earlier in the space capsule.

Somehow, we’re closer to each other, gravity pulling us together without much resistance. Our faces are inches apart.

A knock at the door ends the moment before it can begin. We jump back from each other. Rooney slides off her side of the bed and takes an entire three steps to hide in the bathroom.

On the other side of the door is Kenneth. Did he see us in the Rocket Garden? Is this why he’s here? I pull the heavy door open and force a smile onto my face.

“Jackson!” Kenneth says before I can say hello. “Sorry to surprise you like this. Was that you I saw in the Rocket Garden?”

“In this weather? That would be reckless.” I inhale sharply. “I was there earlier, though,” I say, not being able to commit to the lie. “What brings you to town?”

Kenneth laughs and lifts his arms. Drops of water roll off his sleeves. “Good point. I had a meeting with the Center Director. They had shirts for the team,” he says, handing me a Kennedy Space Center T-shirt. “There’s one for Rooney, too.”

I take it from him before he offers to bring it to her. “I’d be happy to give it to her tomorrow. I think she’s… busy,” I interject.

“Great. Thanks. Oh, hey! Congrats on being put up for a promotion. Your manager reached out for a recommendation,” he shares.

“I didn’t know… That’s great,” I say. Did I miss an email about this? I make a mental note to check.

Kenneth smiles reassuringly. “Don’t worry. Only good things to say here. You’re doing fantastic work. Keep it up. My fingers are crossed for you.”

“Thanks,” I mumble.

“I won’t keep you. See you back in LA!” Kenneth says as he turns toward the elevator.

I return with a half wave and close the door.

Rooney peers out from behind the door. “Can I come out?”

I nod, handing her the T-shirt. “My manager put my name in for a promotion.”

“I heard,” she says. “That’s really great news.”

“Yeah.”

“Are you okay?”

“That was dangerously close, Rooney,” I whisper.

“Completely agree,” she says in a hushed tone. “I don’t want to compromise anything for you.”

“And this program is too important for you,” I say. We stare deeply into each other’s eyes. It feels like saying good-bye in New York City all over again.

Rooney nods quickly. “Yes. These opportunities mean too much. We can’t risk anything.” She pulls at a wet strand of hair. “Friends, then?”

Before any semblance of hesitation takes over, I agree. “Friends.”

“Great,” she says, her voice wavering. “I should probably go.”

I peer through the peephole in the door. “Maybe wait a few minutes to make sure he’s gone.”

Rooney holds her hands up in the air. “I’m getting under the blankets then,” she says quietly. “We can talk in a normal volume. The walls can’t be that thin.”

“I’m going to… sit in that chair,” I say, pointing across the room. At this moment, thankfully, notifications light up my phone. “It’s Sprinkles.”

Rooney pulls the comforter up to her chin so that only her head pokes out. “She learned to text? They grow up so fast.”

I chuckle, and the worry melts out of me. Everything will be okay if Rooney and I never do what we did in the Rocket Garden ever again. We got the residual tension from New York out of our systems.

“They’re camera notifications. I set them up so I could keep an eye on Sprinkles and see what she’s up to.”

“Ohhh,” Rooney says playfully. “That makes a lot more sense. What’s she doing?”

I analyze the video, zooming in. “She’s curious to know about everything. Every time she walks or jumps in front of the camera, I get an alert.”

“I bet she misses you,” she says, lowering the blanket a few inches to free her arms.

“Gōng Gong comes by twice a day to check in on her. Sometimes three,” I say, placing my phone on the table. “I hope Sprinkles isn’t mad that I’m gone for so long.”

“She’s probably excited to have all that space to herself. I bet she thinks she now owns your apartment,” Rooney says. Her eyes linger on mine. Typically it’s her eyes that draw me in and undo me. Now, though, with her in my shirt and in my bed, I try to focus on her eyes and nothing else.

“Let’s talk about something, just for a few minutes until the coast is clear,” I say quickly. “Have you enjoyed your time at NASA so far?”

Of course, work was the first thing I bring up. A metaphorical bucket of ice water. Actually, that’s perfect.

“Jack, we don’t have to make small talk, but work is a great topic,” Rooney says while fiddling with the shirt collar.

I will myself to concentrate on the words Rooney is saying. I’m certainly not going to think about her in my button down that I’ll be wearing tomorrow.

“Okay. So. Work,” I mutter, hoping my overheated face isn’t completely giving me away.

If Rooney’s aware of my bumbling, she doesn’t let on. “You asked me how I view success. Now I want to know how you define it,” she says.

I lean forward to ground myself, resting my elbows on my thighs. “Moving up in my career. Being excellent at what I do. Proving that what I chose as my career was worthwhile.”

“And is what you do worthwhile?” she asks, watching me.

“I think so,” I admit. “It satisfies me to make scientific advancements. To help push the limits of our universe’s boundaries.”

“To run experiments that involve more than balloons and glitter?” she asks.

“Honestly, NASA’s lack of glitter usage in experiments is a missed opportunity,” I say in a mock-serious tone.

“Especially when it comes to running tests in the clean room,” Rooney says with a laugh. She drags the pillow higher behind her, propping herself up. The movement causes the edge of the comforter to flip over itself, revealing more of her. This alone sends my imagination to off-limits places, even though she’s still mostly covered.

“From where I lie, then,” she continues, “it looks like you’ve already proved whatever it is you needed to. And it sounds like you’re going to be moving on up pretty soon.”

I bounce my knee, my arms bobbing with it. “We’ll see.”

The heat finally kicks on, the vent rattling as it dispenses hot air. The noise drowns out our conversation, and we fall into an easy silence. I look out the dirty hotel window. The moon is a thin sliver against the charcoal night sky.

“Hey, can I ask you a serious question?” Rooney asks, resting her cheek in her palm. “Every time you look up at the moon, does it make you think of work? Because that sounds exhausting.”

What’s exhausting is refraining from kissing Rooney. From telling her how I feel about her. I better get used to being fatigued.

I smile in response as I convince myself that keeping our distance is for the best. If the past two months were hard, the next ten will be even harder.