Rules of Play (The Script Club 2)

“Uh, I’m glad it went well, but those topics weren’t on my ideas.”

Newton pulled his phone from his pocket and tapped an open note on the screen. “Line items ten and fourteen.”

“Oh, right.” Those were Aiden’s suggestions.

“By the way, Susie has a bit of a sweet tooth and likes prickly creatures. I don’t share her fondness for desserts, but I too, would love to own a hedgehog.”

“A hedgehog?” I repeated.

“Yes, it’s illegal to own one in the state of California, so I thought I’d suggest a substitute. Any ideas would be greatly appreciated.”

“Zebras are legal.”

Newton quirked his brow as he adjusted his glasses. “Could that be?”

I grinned. “My…friend looked it up. I’m not sure why anyone would want to own a zebra, but apparently it’s acceptable.”

“Strange, but interesting,” he replied brusquely. “I’ll make a note of that. Your boyfriend’s advice has been sage so far.”

“I didn’t say anything about my boyfriend.”

“True. You said ‘friend,’ however, I’ve noticed from your expression that saying the word ‘friend’ appears to make you blush. Therefore, he must be your boyfriend. Or a friend of significance. Now…where were we?”

I peeked over his shoulder as he typed, blinking in amazement at his detailed observations.

Pink polka dots, sunrises in the mountains, coffee with a drop of milk and two sugars, green tea at three p.m. on the dot, King Arthur legends, buttercream frosting…

“Those are things you’ve learned about her?”

“Yes. Susie’s quite loquacious once she warms up.”

“It sounds like you have a connection.”

“Yes, I think so. But I’m not sure it’s enough of one to ask for a date. Your thoughts?”

I stared at Newton like a deer in headlights. The scientist in me wanted to run a calculation to measure probability and outcome. I’d bet my next paycheck he’d already done that and quickly realized there was no way to qualify risk and reward when it came to matters of the heart.

That sucked.

“I think you have to go with your gut.”

“My gut? My gut is a mess. I’ve been popping antacids like breath mints for weeks now. My gut cannot be trusted with this matter!” He threw his hands in the air and paced the long row of tables lined with computers.

“Newton, I…I don’t know what to say. I don’t want to steer you wrong or—”

“Ask your boyfriend.” He stopped short, wringing his hands nervously. “Your lover. Whatever you call him. Perhaps he’ll know. Can you text him?”

“Now?”

“Yes.”

How did I get to a place where the only one who knew about the most intimate, special thing in my life was Neutron Newton?

I sighed heavily as I pulled my cell from my pocket. Question…Newton wants a second opinion. Should he ask S out?

“And if so, how shall I go about it?” Newton piped in from over my shoulder.

I glared at him. “I’ll let you know what he says tomorr—”

Buzz, buzz

“What did Aiden say?”

I whirled away, pressing the screen to my chest. “Aiden?”

“That’s the caller identification on your cell.”

Right. I bit the inside of my cheek and glanced at my phone.

“Go for it. YOLO,” I read. “Keep it simple.”

“Ooh. That is sage advice indeed,” Newton hummed reverently. “Thank you.”

“Um, you’re welcome.”

“Now to work up the courage.” He replied matter-of-factly, pivoting on his heels to the door. “I must go. I have a meeting, and you should have left twenty minutes ago with the other interns. I commend your dedication, but you’re not being paid overtime.”

True.

I shut down my computer and headed for the parking lot to wait for Ash, nodding an awestruck greeting to the world-renowned expert in guidance and navigation as I stepped onto the sidewalk.

This place was rock star central, I mused, pulling my cell out when it vibrated in my pocket. I answered without checking the caller ID, thinking it had to be Aiden.

“YOLO, Aiden? Go for it? What kind of advice is that?”

A female chuckle reverberated in my ear. “I think that’s great advice.”

“Mom.” Oh. Oops. “Hi. Sorry about that. I thought you were…”

“Aiden. I got that part. How is he?” she asked cheerily.

“Uh, good. He’s working on my transmission and—”

“I know that, silly. How’s Willy the wonder Bronco? All better?”

“Not yet, but Aiden thinks he’ll be finished this weekend.”

“Gosh, I love that boy. I heard he’s cutting you a sweet deal.”

“He is, but I’m still paying for parts. I mean…I haven’t paid for anything yet. He said he’d give me an invoice when he’s finished, but—who told you about a sweet deal?”

“Simon.”

Of course.

“This isn’t Simon’s business, Mom. I’m handling this,” I insisted irritably.

“I know you are, but Simon and Aiden go way back. I’m sure they’ve discussed poor Willy’s chances. Did you know that Dad and I bought Willy the year you were born? We needed a bigger vehicle for our growing family. I have a photo of the day I brought you home from the hospital in front of that thing. Ben would have been four and a half, Simon was three, and—”