Aaron texts once:Thursday, usual spot?
I reply:sure
When I walk into the next lab session, the place is a war zone. Someone’s knocked over a bottle of phenolphthalein, tinting every surface a sickly neon pink. The TA is muttering under her breath about “the goddamn amateurs,” and Collins has posted a pop quiz on the overhead, daring anyone to try and cheat in the twenty seconds before he collects it. The room buzzes with caffeine and panic.
Aaron is already at our station, prepping the glassware with a precision I haven’t seen from him since the first week. He’s got the goggles on, his hair flattened by the band, and he’s chewing his lip so hard I can see the indentation from a foot away. He doesn’t look up when I slide into the seat beside him, just says, “We need to be fast today. I got work after.”
I nod, even though I know he’s lying. His job at the gym doesn’t start until six. But I’m not in the mood for a fight, so I just take the notebook and scan the protocol. Today is a multi-step esterification, something so rote I could do it with my eyes closed. I pour the first reagent, measure the volume twice, and hand it over.
We work like machines. In perfect, silent sync. By the time we’re heating the mixture over the Bunsen, most of the class is still debating step three. It’s almost a relief—just focus on the reaction, not on the way Aaron’s entire body vibrates with unspent energy.
When the TA comes by to check our progress, Aaron flashes a smile that’s so forced it’s almost painful. She signs our sheet, barely glancing at the results. As soon as she moves on, he lets the mask drop.
“Can I ask you something?” he says, voice so low it’s almost lost in the white noise.
I freeze, a test tube poised halfway to the rack. “Sure.”
He doesn’t look at me. Just keeps swirling the flask, watching the meniscus rise and fall with each rotation. “You ever meet someone and just… know it’s gonna wreck you?”
My heart skips. I set the tube down, careful not to let it clink. “I guess,” I say, but my voice sounds alien to my own ears.
He nods, slow and deliberate. “The girl from the party I keep looking for… I thought it was a joke at first, but then we were in the closet and—” He stops, clears his throat, starts again. “It wasn’t like any hookup I’ve had, you know? It felt… real. Even if it was just sixty seconds in the dark.”
I can’t look at him. I pretend to check the boiling point, but the numbers on the thermometer are a blur.
He keeps going, relentless. “She was gone before I could even ask her name. But I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.” He laughs, bitter. “And now everyone thinks I’m some kind of clown for posting about it, and there’s memes, and even my roommate won’t shut up.”
He finally turns to look at me, and I almost flinch at the honesty in his eyes. “I sound like an idiot, don’t I?”
I want to say no, but my mouth is dry. I settle for shaking my head.
He exhales, and the sound is so shaky it makes my hands go numb. “Anyway. Sorry. Didn’t mean to dump all that.”
I grab the flask from him, set it in the ice bath, and focus on the sensation—cold, sharp, real. “It’s fine,” I say, and then, before I can stop myself, I add, “It’s not like I’m judging you.”
He smiles, just a hint of it, and runs a hand through his hair, nearly knocking the goggles off. “Yeah, well. Guess I just needed to get it out.”
He stares at the flask, at the crystals forming in the bottom, and for a long moment neither of us moves.
Then, as if remembering his cue, he leans back and folds his arms, voice pitched even lower. “You know what’s fucked?After the whole Natalie Greene ploy, my friends thought it would be hilarious to set me up with some random girl as a joke. Had her wear the same dress, the same wig. Like I wouldn’t notice.”
I feel the heat rise up my neck, all the way to my ears. I grip the edge of the lab bench so hard my fingers go white.
He shakes his head. “I mean, I get it. It’s funny. But it just made it worse, you know? Like everyone thinks I’m desperate or stupid or both.”
He looks at me again, and this time he doesn’t look away. “I’m not, though. I just… I want to know who she was. I want to understand why it mattered.”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.
He laughs, softer now. “You probably think I’m insane.”
“No,” I say, and it’s so quiet I can barely hear it myself.
He watches me for a second longer, then turns back to the experiment. “Sorry. I’ll shut up now.”
We finish the reaction in silence. But the whole time, I can feel the words circling, heavier than any chemical we could ever distill. When we’re done, I rinse the glassware three times, just to have something to do with my hands.
As we pack up, Aaron glances over. “Thanks for listening.”
