Attraction

CHAPTER 2 The Atomic Theory of Matter

"I just don't. I don't have his number."

"Why not?" she pressed.She'd asked me this question several times as we were dressing-or,rather, as she was dressing me.

"Because," I responded again, wiping my palms on the dress.

"Because why? What if you needed to get in touch with him about a project?"

"I'd leave him a note."

"A note? Where? When?How?"

"In the chemistry lab, in the cabinet."

"You pass each other notes?" Her tone turned teasing.

"No. It's not like that.I'll leave a note if I can't make it on Fridays and he does the same. Or, if I've finished something without waiting for him, that kind of thing."

"But why didn't he want you to have his cell-"

I stopped walking and faced her. "He tried to give it to me, okay? He tried last semester to exchange numbers and I didn't want to. Can you just drop it?"

"You wouldn't take Martin Sandeke's number?" she asked, as though the words I'd just spoken made no sense.

"That's correct."

"But...why the hell not?He's...he's...he's Martin Sandeke!"

"Because he's Martin Sandeke. That's why I wouldn't take it." I started walking again, my toes protesting the movement.

"Katy, you've been crushing on Martin Sandeke since the first week of class two years ago when you stalked him outside of physics, before you even knew who he was."

"That's because he's physically beautiful and pleasing to the eye," I mumbled.

"He tries to give you hisphone number and you don't take it. Why did you do that? Explain it to me."

"Because, you know me,when I get drunk-even though it's only happened twice-I drunk dial!I called Carter the last time it happened."

Carter was my high school boyfriend who never seemed interested in physical intimacy unless we had an audience. Since he was my only boyfriend, I figured this was normal. We'd parted as friends.

But last year I left him a drunk message asking him why he never tried to sleep with me. WhenI woke up the next morning, and everything came flooding back, it took me three weeks to return his call.

When I finally did, he informed me that he was, in fact, gay. Additionally, he had appreciated my willingness to be his beard in high school. He also assured me that had he not been gay, he would have tried to get in my pants early and often.

It all sounded like pity.

Worst conversation ever.

Sam stopped me again with a hand on my elbow. "That was last summer and Carter is ancient history."

"Can we just get this over with?" I pleaded, not wanting to talk about Carter or about my stunted romantic history.

Sam released an audible breath. "Katy, you're beautiful and desirable-"

"Oh my God, no more teasing. I'm wearing the dress, aren't I? I even let you put make upon me."

"I'm not teasing you. I'm trying to get you out of this perpetual funk you're in. You hide yourself behind baggy clothes and eyebrows so thick they could be mustaches. Carter is a lovely person but he shouldn't have used you like that. Now you're all skewed in the head."

"Can we not talk about this?"

"Only if you promise to get Martin's number tonight."

I shook my head, shifted on my feet. "I will not. I don't want to drunk dial Martin Sandeke a few months from now. He won't give me pity, he's vicious. He'll laugh in my face and make me cry."