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Chapter one

Declan

D ating was a ritualistic primate dance, and I still hadn’t learned the steps.

The girl who sat across from me…Barbara? Bingo? Balthazar? Whatever her name was, she’d picked her napkin into twenty-seven pieces during our discussion on terraforming Mars, a real and viable solution to our current problems here on Earth.

Except she gave me that look again, the one that precipitated her making a flimsy excuse and deciding to leave for the night. Which meant I’d failed to pick up the cues, and she wasn’t as engaged in terraforming Mars as I’d hoped. When she’d asked me what sign I was, I thought her interest in astrology would be translatable.

Clearly not.

Maybe I should’ve looked more into astrology before taking a date to Zodiac Brewery, but no hard data existed to explain why being a Virgo meant I was anxious. I was pretty sure my anxiety started when I learned the sun would eventually die, and it never quite stopped from there.

“Uh, I need to go to the bathroom,” Balthazar said.

I heaved a sigh, one that came out a lot heavier than intended. At first, I’d thought the first dozen or so women actually had to use the restroom, but I’d cracked the code. “If you want to end the date, we can do that now. You don’t need to pull the disappearing-into-the-bathroom act.”

Getting abandoned middate should be sad, but I was used to it. What I didn’t understand was why people didn’t communicate what they needed. A date was supposed to be about seeing if two people clicked. If they didn’t, they could go their merry ways instead of vanishing on me. The first few times, I’d been concerned the girls had drowned in the toilet.

Balthazar gaped at me as if I’d suggested something groundbreaking instead of basic communication. I might not be the best at reading subtle cues, but clear discussions were necessary in a family as large as mine, and I’d learned the skill early on.

“It’s not just me, though, right?” she said. “There’s not any chemistry here?”

I shrugged. Chemistry was one of those elusive things, humorous since I dealt with it daily on the scientific level. However, when it came to people, I’d been on date after date and rarely felt the sparks everyone talked about. Attraction hit sometimes, and I’d hook up when I needed or wanted to, but yet again, I questioned why I suffered through yet another pointless date.

The truth nagged inside me, ever-present.

Because I waited for someone to magically accept me, like my family did. I’d have better luck applying atomic manipulation to create a molecular wire .

“Right, I’m pretty sure that answers that.” Her brows drew together, and she was huffy, but I had no idea over what. We’d both agreed no mutual interest had emerged between us, and the whole point of dating was to try. The process followed the basic steps of the scientific method. If there was no experimentation, you’d never reach the desired outcome, but you’d have to hypothesize and test along the way.

“I’m fine to sit here and chat over dinner,” I said, even though given how she was glowering, I’d prefer not.

“No, I’m out.” Balthazar shot up from her seat, her beer still half-full. We hadn’t ordered our dinners yet, but that was on my agenda. I was so hungry my stomach kept rumbling. She stormed out the door, leaving me with yet another wasted date on my hands. However, the night didn’t have to be a complete failure. I could still get dinner.

I picked up one of the napkins and pulled out a pen from my messenger bag. I’d been tooling around with an equation, one I needed to work through, and now was as good a time as any. I scratched it out on the napkin, sinking into a comfortable zone.

“Hey, where did your date go?” the waitress asked, drawing me out in the middle of a problem. Irritation prickled through me, but that wasn’t her fault. I’d gotten lost in equations in the middle of a restaurant instead of a private place.

“We weren’t a good fit, but I’d still like to order if possible?”

“Absolutely.” The pink-haired girl was short and had a snarky air to her, probably a few years younger than me. From appearance and tone of voice, she would’ve been better to go on a date with rather than my choice from an app.

But choices had been made .

“Can I have a burger with bacon? But skip the cheese and other toppings. Especially lettuce.”

“Sure. Anything else?”

“That should be good.” I prayed they kept lettuce far away from my plate. It made my skin crawl. Healthy, my ass. Lettuce was a war crime of crunch and slime that had grown in popularity because bunnies were cute and ate it. Bunnies also ate their own shit, so clearly we shouldn’t be taking cues from them.

The server walked away, and I sipped my beer, prepared to dive into the depths of this formula.

A whistle from too close drew my attention. I looked up.

Oh, great.

Noah Langston had been a plague on my life since high school, and I went out of my way to avoid him at any cost.

I’d met him in elementary, and we’d become fast friends. He’d tagged along with me and my siblings frequently with whatever nonsense we’d gotten up to, whether diving into rivers or playing cops and robbers at the playground. But things had disintegrated between us in high school. He’d gone the traditional jock route, the QB on the football team, and he’d started hanging out more with those guys. Divergent paths might’ve been fine, but he had made it a point to always tug at my hair or steal my hat while his friends all laughed. Annoying shit that pushed us further and further apart.

What was worse? I could speak up to almost anyone, but for some reason, I got tongue-tied around him.

Even though three guys hung around him, all dressed in similar coveralls or threadbare jeans, he separated from the herd and sauntered my way.

Noah was one of those guys who smiled often and at everyone, with eyes that reminded me of the golden retriever my brother and his boyfriend had just brought home. With his cleft chin, strong nose, and broad build, he was what others might classify as conventionally attractive. I classified him as a pain in my ass.

Or a pain in my hair. Every day, I took time to make sure the strands fell evenly, and whenever we met, he messed it up.

I couldn’t fathom why he went out of his way to bother me. Our circles had shifted entirely, although he occasionally ran into my brothers, since he worked as a contractor like they did. However, every few months we ran into each other, and he’d inevitably mosey over to catch up.

“Declan Brannon,” he said.

“After thirty-two years, you’ve learned my full name. I’m shocked.” I fake-clutched my pearls.

“What are you doing sitting at the bar on your own?” He plunked into the booth as if he’d been invited. My irritation simmered at the same time my skin prickled, an unfortunate occurrence that seemed to sweep in whenever he was around. Something about him set me on edge.

“Enjoying my company.”

He snorted as if I’d joked, and then reached forward, hand outstretched. I backed up so he couldn’t get to my hair. Nice try, asshole.

“You’re here with friends, I’m guessing?” I gave an up-nod in the direction of the guys at the bar.

“Yeah, we’re unwinding after a long job. The best beer in town is here.” He glanced at the beer Balthazar had left before she’d stormed out in a huff. “Two beers by your lonesome?”

“You can finish it if you don’t mind risking the germs. I had a date. We didn’t click.”

“I didn’t know you were dating.” He crossed his arms and leaned back, getting comfortable, which was the last thing I wanted him to do. I wanted him un comfortable. About as uncomfortable as I got whenever we interacted.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Noah.” I sipped at my beer, simply for something to do with my hands. I hated the way he ramped up my nerves, how I grew so much more aware of my surroundings, my own processes around him. If only I could drown out his presence.

“Oh?” He arched a brow. “Pretty sure I know how you got the scar on your knee.”

“Pretty sure I wouldn’t have gotten it if you’d been better at holding me upright,” I shot back. We’d been trying to climb in through my window at my house after sneaking out to go stargazing at the park because it had a better view of the sky than my backyard. In those innocent years before Noah dropped our shared interests and started acting weird around me.

“Don’t you have drinking to get to?” I asked.

He picked up the half-finished beer from my date and took a sip. “Mmm, just did.”

Annoyance simmered through my veins. “You probably gave yourself strep.”

His brow wrinkled. “Was she sick?”

“No, but tossing back random unfinished drinks seems like a surefire way to get sick.” My tone came out a little more droll than normal. “You’d be the first loss on the Oregon Trail. Here lies Noah—died of dysentery.”

Noah waggled his brows. “Sounds like you’re worried about me.”

“Only if I teamed up with you on the Oregon Trail. Chances are, your corpse would attract coyotes, and then it’d be game over for me too.”

“You’d leave me to get eaten by coyotes? Cold-blooded. ”

“Lies implies we buried you. It’s not my fault you drank random beer, got parasites, and died of dysentery. I’m just trying to survive the Oregon Trail.” As much as Noah annoyed the crap out of me, I enjoyed this conversation with him far more than with my date. And that was part of the problem. Noah used to be someone I liked to be around, where I didn’t have to mask, and I could be myself in all my autistic glory.

Those people were goddamn rare.

Then high school happened, and he changed, and we never found our footing afterward.

“This beer was a good choice.” He lifted the glass. “Is it the Libra one on tap?”

“Yeah. Scorpio hits next week,” I said, annoyed at myself now for engaging. Yet my mouth moved of its own volition. “My date was more interested in talking about astrology than astronomy, which should’ve been sign number one we weren’t compatible.”

“Ah, she didn’t love riveting conversations about black holes?” Noah’s eyes sparkled.

“I hadn’t even gotten into black holes, but anyone who doesn’t think an event horizon like that is fascinating isn’t someone I want to spend a long time with. It’s a good litmus test for individuals.” I took another sip of my beer, the crisp taste sending a burst of calm through me.

“Never change, Declan.” Noah shook his head, smiling, but I couldn’t help the prickle of frustration at his words.

I hadn’t.

He had.

“Yo, Noah, are you going to join us or what?” one of the guys from the bar sauntered over. He gave me a nod, but that was it. And this was the interaction I’d grown used to. When Noah became the high school QB, someone always dragged him away. I wasn’t stupid. I didn’t need to be able to read facial expressions because I had ears. They didn’t want him hanging with the weird kid.

Noah chewed on his lower lip and let out a sigh. “I promised these guys drinks. Sorry.”

He stood, and a flicker of annoyance pushed through me again. Ridiculous because I’d tossed it into the garbage where it belonged.

“See you around, Declan.”

I offered a nod.

It wasn’t until he’d left that I realized my shoulders were tensed.

This was the exact reason I avoided Noah at all costs. He left me feeling unruffled like I wore my shoes on the wrong feet.

The server swung back over and dropped off my burger—thankfully, with no lettuce. I took a bite and tried to focus on the burst of savory meat and salty bacon on my tongue. I had my dinner, and I could continue working on the equation I’d been tooling with before Noah interrupted.

As much as I wanted tonight to be the one when I found someone who’d accept me as is, it wasn’t to be.

Not with my date of the week, and not with Noah Langston.