Page 32 of One-Time Shot

Sometimes we discussed sci-fi movies and TV programs. We both loved stories set in space and had a running commentary over which version ofStar Trekwas the best, most believable, or had the coolest aliens.

Other times, it was a stream of random gibberish. Our current text thread was a perfect example.

Jett:Do you think there are other life forms in the universe?

Me:Yes

You don’t need a second to think about it?

The universe is unimaginably vast. It’s unlikely that we’re the lone intelligent species, I replied.

Humans are dumbasses. I read a story about a couple who won the lottery and built a mansion with 18 bathrooms, tubs and bidets made of Italian marble.

Greedy. I’m only putting nine bathrooms in my mansion.

One laughing emoji.Pink marble?

Of course.

Twenty laughing emojis.

I grinned at my cell, jumping to attention as Layla cleared her throat. “Oh. Hello. I didn’t know you were home.”

“Mmhm. Let me guess…the hockey hero?”

“Uh, yes. Just checking the ol’ calendar.” I set my phone face-down on the coffee table and joined Layla in the kitchen. “He has a busy schedule, you know.”

“I bet.” She held up the electric kettle. “What about you?”

“Tea, please.”

“I meant…don’t you have a busy schedule, too?”

“Oh.” I arranged mugs for us, then leaned against the counter, idly watching my friend tear open a packet of cocoa. “Yes, I’m busy.”

“And?”

“And…” I scrunched my nose and bit my bottom lip, continuing in a rush, “And my experiment is complete, but I don’t want to stop because infatuation has me by its steely claws. I know that’s not a good reason to string this along. I know I should thank him and cut ties. I will. I’ll do it tomorrow.”

Layla poured hot water and handed me the mug. “That’s probably for the best.”

My heart sank. “Yes, of course. Do you think he knows I…like him?”

“Yeah, but so what? He likes you too.” She blew into her mug, eyeing me over the rim. “But he’s straight, Mal. He dates women. He fucks around too. I have a class with Tara Berman, who says he led her on and another girl who claims Tara is bitter ’cause she saw Jett and her making out at a party and—whatever. He’s a nice guy, but…”

“He’s a lothario,” I finished.

“A straight one.”

I sighed, nodded, and immediately changed the subject.

She was right. Well, not the lothario part. Jett wasn’t the type to string anyone along. He was honest and forthright and?—

Say no more.

It was time to end my hockey experiment.

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