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Chapter three

The Butterfly Effect

Josh

The smell of coffee is a magnet, its rich aroma pulling JR and me toward Whole Latte Love , our favorite local café. It’s been almost a week since our last trip to the coffee shop—practically a record. With its spacious tables and relaxed atmosphere, it’s the perfect place to kick back and study. My roommate is addicted to the freshly baked ‘Rock & Cinnamon Rolls ‘. Me? I might be a little obsessed with the hot male barista. Both are enough to make your mouth water.

“Have you started on your speech yet?” JR swings open the café door and a blast of cool air greets us. The hiss of frothing milk mixes with the background music and the hum of conversation.

My speech? Heck, no. “I don’t want to talk about it,” I mutter, hitching my backpack onto a shoulder and darting through the doorway ahead of him. All I want to do right now is enjoy a chai latte and study in peace. If I peek at the barista once or twice from behind my textbooks, nobody needs to know about that but me.

My friend sniffs the air as he follows me inside, his stomach rumbling loudly. “Not yet, huh? Don’t worry, you still have plenty of time to write the speech. That’s not why we’re here, anyway.” The bakery case at the front counter is loaded with muffins and pastries. He grabs my arm and drags me toward it.

I stop short. Baked goods aren’t the only thing at the counter… So is my secret obsession. Fumbling in my pocket, I pull out some cash and thrust it at JR. “Order for me, OK? I’ll go get us a table.”

“Not this time, little buddy.” Before I can react, JR’s large hands press against my back and propel me toward the counter.

My legs move on autopilot as I try to keep from stumbling. Catching myself on the counter’s edge, I look up—straight into the barista’s eyes.

Wow. It’s the first time I’ve seen them this close up, and I’m stunned by their strange color. They’re pale green, not like moss or even jade... They remind me of soft-green sea glass. Honey-colored halos surround each iris, like sunshine lighting his eyes from within.

“Hey,” my obsession says.

I jump, startled. How long have I been standing here, staring at him? Oh, god—I probably look like a star-struck teen in front of their favorite boy band. He must think I’m such a loser! Spinning around, I run face-first into a wall of muscle.

“Hey,” JR says to the barista. “Your name’s Karma, right? This is my friend, Josh Malik. Karma, meet Josh—Josh, Karma.”

Tell me this isn’t what I think it is. Somebody? Anybody?

I glare up at the former football star, who stands a foot taller than me. He rubs the back of his neck, blushing. Crap. This is what I think it is: JR’s way of ‘helping’ me meet someone, his idea of finding me a date. Because shoving me at random guys is a foolproof plan to get me laid. I swear, if he wasn’t my best friend—and as big as a house—I would try to knock some sense into him.

“Hi, Josh,” Karma says from behind me.

Crap. He said my name! Now what am I supposed to do? Spinning back around, I freeze, stunned once again by his sheer hot-ness. How can anyone be so good-looking? My eyes wander from the golden hoop in his nose to the mysterious tattoos peeking out from beneath his sleeves. Cursive lettering circles both arms all the way down to his wrists. What I wouldn’t give to trace the words inked into his sun-kissed flesh.

“Chai latte with oat milk, right?” he prompts.

I swallow hard and nod. He knows my name and my drink order, and I can’t even say ‘hello’ to the guy. I’m hopeless. Laying some money on the counter, I escape to a booth in the back and hide behind my physics textbook. Maybe if I wait here long enough, he’ll forget I exist.

JR joins me a few minutes later, handing over my drink as he takes a seat across from me. “That went OK, right?”

I let the textbook fall into my lap and groan.

“What’s wrong with him?” Professor Fletcher appears in front of our booth, popping up like a ghost from my nightmares.

My head falls against the table, and I bang it once or twice. Great, just what I need. Dr. Fletcher—my arch-nemesis, The Destroyer —rubbing my nose in my latest humiliation. Over the past year as his teaching assistant, the man has made my life a living hell. But, now that JR has fallen in love with him? We’re suddenly supposed to be friends.

Lucky me.

“He’s just excited, that’s all.” The linebacker gazes at the older man like he’s the only other person in the world. He slides over, making space on the padded bench, and Fletcher scoots in beside him. “I’m helping Josh find a date. I just introduced him to Karma Wilson.”

“Karma?” Fletcher turns toward the front counter, frowning at the long-haired barista. “That pothead? No. Unacceptable. I won’t allow him to be a bad influence on our Josh.”

I glance sideways at the professor. Our Josh? Since when have I been ‘his’ anything?

JR looks over his shoulder, a line creasing his forehead. “Really? He seems nice to me, and Blake says he’s smart AF. Plus, I’ve heard Professor Patterson likes him, and everyone knows that he’s—“

“An asshole,” Fletcher growls.

“A real hardass.” JR nods.

“Difficult to please,” I repeat the rumors. Patterson’s reputation on campus as an unreasonable perfectionist is almost as bad as Professor Fletcher’s.

The professor returns his attention to me, his flat stare hard and unblinking. “It doesn’t matter whether Patterson likes him or not. You will not date this ‘Karma’ . If you must enter the dating arena, we’ll find someone more suitable for you. A man with discipline who can guide you in the ways of BDS—“

My best friend erupts into a fit of coughing, his face flushing a bright, fiery red. He glances at me and then quickly away. “Um… I don’t think that’s the kind of date Josh is looking for.”

“Hmm. Perhaps you’re right.” Fletcher inspects me like a bug. “I’ll keep my eye out for an appropriate companion. In the meantime, I have work to do in the lab. Will you join me, Ben?”

“Sure, Daddy—I mean, Fletcher.” JR sends me another quick, embarrassed glance. “Is that OK, Josh? Do you mind if I take off?”

Honestly, their weird nicknames for each other are enough to make me squirm. It’s almost as bad as their sudden interest in match-making. Time alone with my textbooks sounds like heaven in comparison. “No, it’s fine. You go. I’ll just stay here and study.”

“OK, I’ll see you at home,” my soon-to-be ex-roommate says. He slides out of the booth after Fletcher and they leave hand-in-hand, an odd—but happy—couple.

A pang of envy catches me by surprise. I’m jealous of JR and Fletcher? All this talk of dating must be driving me crazy. I shake my head, then pick up my textbook and settle into my seat. If there’s one thing that can make me feel better, it’s Relativistic Quantum Field Theory.

A voice calls to me through a long tunnel. “Hey, Josh—can I chill with you? I brought some munchies.”

I drag my attention away from my textbook, still lost in the interaction between quarks and gluons. Karma is standing next to the table holding a couple of mugs in one hand and a plate of food in the other. His wavy blond hair is pulled into a knot on the back of his head, revealing small wooden studs in each ear. Mala beads are wrapped around his neck, contrasting with his plain white t-shirt and loose linen pants. My eyes travel the length of his trim body before being caught once more by his soft-green gaze.

“I thought you might need a study break. You’ve had your nose in that textbook for a while.” He sets the dishes on the table and holds out a hand. “Why don’t we make our introduction official? I’m Karma.”

“Oh.” I automatically hold out my hand for him to shake, and there’s a snap of electricity as he touches it.

His hand jerks in mine. “Whoa, did you feel that? Like a mini bolt of lightning. I always knew you were fire, Josh.”

My nightmare from a few nights ago flashes across my mind. The dream’s details are still a little hazy, up until the very end—that part I’ll never forget. Every cell in my body remembers being struck by lightning. The rush of energy as it approached me, its devastating impact, the fear… and the thrill. The fire blazing inside me, out of control, until it consumed every corner of my being.

“Grandmother calls me ‘ Child of Fire ‘ ,“ I murmur, rubbing the spot on my chest where the lightning had hit. What had Nani been telling me in my dream? Didn’t she mention something about…

Karma slides into the booth across from me, passing me the plate of snacks and another mug of chai. “Child of Fire? What a cool nickname. I bet there’s a story behind it.” Curiosity drips from each word.

Is he really talking to me? I peek over my shoulder, but nobody’s there. “Oh… uh, the rest of my family calls me Junoon.” I sink a little lower into my seat. My family nickname is another sore subject.

“Did you say Ju- moon ?“ he asks. “I know this probably sounds like a pick-up line, but your eyes remind me of the moon. They’re so pretty, like moonlight at midnight.”

My eyes? He’s got to be kidding—they’re just a boring brownish-black. I guess the golden rays shooting out from their centers might look a little like moonlight, but does he honestly think they’re pretty?

Karma gives me a soft smile. “Percy Shelley said it best. Your eyes shine like ‘moonbeams kissing the sea’ .”

Who is Percy Shelley, and why are they talking to Karma about my eyes? I shake my head in confusion. “It’s not Ju moon —it’s Ju noon .”

“Oh, sorry.” His smile falters, his cheeks flushing. “I hope you don’t think I’m cringey for quoting 19th century poetry to you. English Lit is kinda my thing. But let’s not talk about me. What are you into?”

I peek back over my other shoulder. Still no one there. Have I stepped into an alternate dimension where hot guys quote poetry to me? Maybe JR’s match-making—not to mention the pressure of my graduation speech—has driven me off the deep end. “Oh. Well, I’m… I’m majoring in—“

“Astrophysics and aerospace engineering,” Karma finishes my sentence. “I’ve heard. You’re kind of a wunderkind on campus—Spartacus University’s own Neil deGrasse Tyson. But what I really want to know is, what are you into? Music… food?”

My head spins. How did we go from discussing poetry and my ‘pretty’ eyes to talking about my major? And what does any of that have to do with music or food? If he wants to know what I’m into, should I tell him about cosmology? It’s a different field of space science than the ones I’m currently studying, and probably the most fascinating subject ever . But most people think it’s boring, though… I’d better stick with something safe. “Oh, um, I’m vegan. I’m into vegan food, I guess.”

His eyes light up. “Me, too! I know a great vegan fusion place not too far from here. I’d love to take you there sometime.”

“Like on a date?” I squeak. Holy crap! I must be having another one of my dreams.

“Yeah.” Karma brushes the top of my hand with one finger, sending another jolt of electricity through me. “I mean, I don’t know how you identify. I’m not into labels, but I guess you could call me pan. It’s a person’s vibration that makes them attractive, don’t you think?”

Vibration? What the heck is he talking about—and did he just ask me on a date? “I… I…”

“Just think about it. I’d love to get to know you better.” He scribbles his phone number onto a napkin and slides it across the table.

My mind whirls. I can’t form a coherent thought, much less a complete sentence. “I… I…”

“See ya later, Child of Fire.” Karma stands up to leave, then leans over, placing a feather-light kiss on my cheek.

I stare at his back as he walks away. What just happened? Karma’s kiss, still warm on my skin, had felt like the brush of butterfly wings. According to the branch of mathematics known as chaos theory, the tiny movement of a butterfly’s wings could cause a powerful storm halfway around the world. If that’s true, then could a small kiss from Karma lead to more lightning in my future?

I rub a hand across my chest as I contemplate the butterfly effect.