What is the Script Club?
To be perfectly honest, I wasn’t entirely sure. Asher explained that he and his friends from grad school had created the “club” for self-betterment purposes…I think? They’d wanted to push themselves beyond the realm of science to explore mainstream facets of life. Don’t quote me. I had a feeling the experiment phase ended when they all graduated last June and moved on to full-time jobs that didn’t leave room for introspection.
This was my second meeting and as far as I could tell, they generally planned the occasional get-together and covered practical issues, such as faulty heaters.
“…the landlord says he’ll have someone come by first thing in the morning. We’ll have to pile on extra blankets tonight. Or find somewhere else to sleep. For the record, I’ll be at Blake’s,” Asher announced.
“I’ll be with Aiden, but we do have a sleeper sofa. Going once, going twice,” George singsonged as he re-tied his cape.
“Simon and I have a guest room, too…if anyone is interested,” Topher added.
The invitations sparked a new round of discussion.
Generous offers indeed, but I wasn’t going anywhere.
I wasn’t fond of sleeping on sofa beds, and I didn’t relish the thought of listening to the muffled sounds of sexual shenanigans through thin walls. So once again, I allowed my mind to wander, turning the rush of conversation into static as I admired the view from my perch near the fireplace.
This was probably my favorite spot in the house. Sunlight flooded the room every morning, casting an inviting glow over the original hardwood flooring and the tasteful mix of contemporary and traditional furniture. In the evening, the light softened incandescently. It was a pleasure to curl up in the corner of the sofa with a book after a long day. Add a cup of chamomile tea, in adherence to my strict “No caffeine after three p.m.” rule—and it was pretty much bliss.
The wide lace-covered windows across the room probably didn’t help our current heating issue. They were impractical but lovely, just like the house itself. It had character and good bones with a wickedly dark entrance, a sunny living room, a creaky staircase, and a huge backyard complete with a fire pit, lemon trees, and ample space for stargazing with a posse of fellow geeks. I absolutely loved it.
Side note…I worked with Asher, George, and Topher at NASA’s Jet Propulsion Lab. Topher and George were orbital mechanic engineers while Asher and I were part of the Mars Rover team. No kidding. They paid me to play with robots. Talk about living the dream. Am I right?
Technically, I ranked a tad higher than Asher at the lab. But that probably had more to do with age and experience. Not that I was old. I was only twenty-nine, however, I still had four years on Ash and the rest of my new roommates.
But they were all mature professionals. Asher was a nattily dressed, pint-sized blond dynamo who obsessed over details and order. George was sharp-witted and slightly vampiric—as in, he wore an actual cape. Not always, but it tended to come out when he was flustered. Or cold, I observed as he adjusted the fabric and tucked it under the throw on his legs. George was particularly close friends with Topher, a sweet guy with curly brown hair and a sunny disposition, who happened to be madly in love with George’s older brother, Simon.
I didn’t know Tommy and Holden as well, but they were fine gentlemen who taught astrophysics at Cal Tech. Tommy was a handsome geek with pretty blue eyes and a stunning smile who didn’t think twice about wearing a shirt two sizes too big and jeans one size too small…or taping the cracked frames of his thick spectacles. Holden’s style was more refined. Sort of. He was obsessed with historic reenactments. I’d bumped into him in the kitchen this morning dressed in gold breeches, a fancy long coat, and a hat with a feather in it. Odd but interesting.
To be fair, everyone here was a bit quirky, I mused, starting when my phone buzzed and vibrated noisily on the metal end table between Asher and me. Everyone looked my way.
“Oh, what do you know? It’s six p.m. on Mars,” I reported, sheepishly turning off the alarm. “Sorry about the interruption. Um, for the record, I’ll brave the Arctic conditions here.”
“Are you sure?” Tommy asked. “It’s very cold. Holden’s going to Topher’s, and I’m going with George. You’ll be alone.”
“That’s fine by me. I’m used to being alone. And I’ve spent quite a bit of time in the mountains. The cold doesn’t bother me much,” I assured him with a dismissive wave, maturely quelling the impulse to hum the line from Frozen. “I have long johns, thermal socks, and even a beanie hat if necessary.”
My roommates shared quizzical looks.