At twenty-seven, YouTube sensation Ben Leonards is married to his work. If he's not whipping up lasagna with a side of science experiments, he's running statistical analysis of bitcoin during explosive behavior periods.
When a friend asks him to org...
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The food I made was a success, and a couple of people asked for the recipes. I sent them to Amelie. Maybe that convinces her the cookbook is a good idea. The shade from the house hasn't reached the table we're sitting at yet. Linda squints as she works on the giraffe on her onesie.
The grey-green amoeba on the onesie in front of me doesn't look like a Triceratops. I add darker green triangles where its large bony frill should be, but those spread into smaller dark green amoebas. Now it looks like a plate of peas.
"So embarrassing. I haven't recognized her, but she said Am, and I've only known her as Amelie. She looks so different now, so grown-up. She's what, a couple of years older than us? Made me think about my age. I better put more sunscreen on."
Linda massages the whitish substance into her long arms and legs. "Could you do my back, please?" She passes the container to me and I smear a glob that comes out across the taut skin of her pronounced shoulder blades, tan after her Greece vacation.
"Thank you, baby. I don't want to get leathery." Linda picks up our onesies and puts them up against my white shirt, pinning each one to my chest with her fingers. "Do you think my onesie will win? I took a peek into the goody bags, and I want one."
"The giraffe is recognizable." I move her fingers off me and lean away. "I'd like to talk to you."
"What do you want to talk to me about, baby?" Linda puts her hand on my shoulder and massages it. I've found Linda's touch equally neutral as those of my other dates after Am. Today, Linda's constant touching builds a buzz of discomfort across my skin. I look up at Linda and behind her I see Amelie walking inside the house with Angie. I get up, and Linda's hand slides off me.
"In private," I say.
"Oh, in private. I like the sound of that. Let me give Tall the onesies, baby. I'm set on winning this one."
***
Angie's lying down on the couch, and her face looks as white as the leather couch she's on.
"Are you OK? Do you need anything?" I walk over to Angie.
"Don't mind me. I'm taking a little break from the heat and the chairs."
"I can ask Mike to come in."
"No need."
Linda puts away her phone when I'm back by her side. Instead of my original plan of taking her to my office, I continue past it, up the stairs, and into the gaming room. I don't want anyone overhearing us.
Linda walks right up to me and brings her hands to my chest. I step away, letting them fall.
