In the Lion's Teeth: Second Edition

Chapter Ten

Mitch always seems to come home while you're on your laptop. This time you're on the school library database looking up articles for a paper, and he's coming home from who knows what. He's not here much, but he never has been. He's a social animal who needs to be around a lot of people, and you're the exact opposite. It doesn't line up for a lot of together time.

"Hey," you say as he closes the door behind him.

"Hey." He pulls off his scarf and gloves and drops them in the plastic bin by his bed, then starts to unbutton his coat. You half watch from the corner of your eye, mostly out of habit — for so long, everyone and everything was a potential threat, and some habits from back then have been impossible to break.

He pauses and turns toward you. You look up. His face is tight with concern and confusion.

"How fucking high are you right now?" he asks.

You sit up a little straighter, looking around the room, like he's talking to someone else. "I... what?" Are you acting weird? You don't feel shaky or twitchy, and your next dose isn't for another hour.

"What are you on?"

"I..." you pause, work your mouth open and closed like a dumb fish. "Just the standard? I'm just baseline, Mitch. Nothing extra. I... why? What's wrong?"

He slowly slides his coat off and sits down across from you, his eyes locked on your face, like you're a wild animal about to go for his throat.

"I don't think I've ever seen you with an expression like that when you're not high out of your skull," he finally says. His face relaxes and his mouth stretches into a wide smile. "What happened?"

You actually grin, and this time it's not because of some artificial high. "I... I met someone? I think. Maybe?"

Mitch laughs, soft and a little disbelieving. "Really?"

"Yeah, I, you know how I went out to test my model today?"

"Oh, yeah, how'd that go?" he asks.

"It went well. No glitches or anything. I... I actually kind of purposely sent it off in the wrong direction and scribbled out some of the flight path information in my notes and filled it back in wrong. So." You pause, clearing your throat, flushing hot with embarrassment now that you're admitting it out loud. "So I 'accidentally' miscalculated and it ended up over where he was. So he would have a reason to talk to me."

This time, Mitch's laugh is big, bright, and booming, like you always imagined it was around everyone else but never actually heard yourself. "Pascal, you dog! I didn't even know you had something like that in you!"

You laugh and idly scratch your neck. "I didn't either?"

"So, I assume you're going somewhere with him at some point in the future?" he prompts.

"Yeah, we're going to the Museum of Science next week. He has a membership there."

"He would," Mitch chuckles, shaking his head, but in an almost loving, paternal way. "Well, that's awesome, man. I actually have a date on Thursday this week."

"Yeah?" you ask. You sit up a little straighter, dropping the hand on your neck back to your keyboard.

"Yeah. Go us, right?" he laughs. He leans forward and reaches out for a fist bump, which you awkwardly return, but when he smiles as you pull your hand back, you can tell that he appreciates that you tried.

"You know," he says, "I was really worried about this drug thing you were so insistent on. But you're... Pascal, the difference is night and day. I'd have never even imagined you could be like this." He kicks off his shoes and pulls a textbook off the shelf behind him and some notebooks from under his bed.