Page 60 of Every Almost

From that day forward, the two of them argued about everything. Fuel mixtures, nozzle geometry, the thermodynamic limits of chemical propulsion. Joss fought with data and theory, clean proofs and elegant math. Charlie fought with instinct and experience, the years in Frank's garage, and the things machines had told her with their sounds and vibrations and heat. They were almostneveron the same side. But they were almostalwaysthe last two talking after everyone else had packed up.

Charlie knew as the weeks went on that something different was happening. She told herself the reason she kept showing up early to that seminar was because she liked the material. She told herself the reason she spent forty-five minutes choosing outfits on the mornings the seminar met was because she wanted to ensure she made a good impression on the graduate students. She told herself the reason her pulse jumped whenever Joss walked into the seminar course, immediately found Charlie's gaze, and her gaze lingered longer than expected was because their arguments were intellectually stimulating. Charlie told herself a lot of things.

She believed approximately none of them.

One night towards the end of the seminar course, they were walking back to the parking lot after a late session in the lab. The campus was quiet and the air was cool. Their conversation that evening had drifted from propulsion theory to music, because Joss had noticed the Fleetwood Mac tee Charlie had been wearing that night.

"So you're a fan of 'The Mac,' I see," Joss said. Charlie looked down at her shirt.

"I guess you could say that."

"I am saying that."

Charlie gave her a look. "Then yes, I'm a fan."

"Now see, was that so hard?"

"What?"

"Answering a question without a biting retort."

"I'm just a bit off my game tonight. You sideswiped me with a question about something near and dear to my heart."

"Oh? Fleetwood Mac is near and dear to your heart, huh?"

"I guess you could say that."

Joss laughed. "God, you're stubborn."

"I prefer 'committed to my position.'"

"I bet you do."

They walked in silence for a minute before Charlie made a decision.

"My Dad."

"Pardon?"

It had come out with that word before she’d thought about it. But Charlie realized that it was the first time she’d called Frank exactly who he was.

"My Dad introduced us to them when I was a kid. He had the 8-track in his garage, and we'd listen while we worked on his car together. Then he boughtRumourson vinyl and played it for me on his record player." Charlie slowed as they reached her car. The Plymouth, faithful and dented, parked under the one light in the lot that buzzed at a frequency Charlie had recognized as a problem for weeks. "My sister and I have been fans ever since. When I left home to come here to Caltech, she gave me a mixtape. There were more Fleetwood Mac songs on it than any other band."

"Your sister made you a mixtape when you left home?" Joss asked, sweetness in her voice that Charlie rarely got to hear.

"She did," Charlie said, a smile spreading across her lips at the thought of Katie and her mixtape; mixtapes now. "She gives me a new one every Christmas, a set of songs we've talked about or listened to together, even if we're only on the phone." Joss looked at Charlie, her eyes moving between Charlie's own.

"That's incredibly sweet."

"Well,sheis incredibly sweet. She's probably my favorite person in the whole world." A pause settled between them as they continued to look at one another. Charlie broke the eye contact by looking up at the sky. "Katie's the one that's always believed I would go to the stars," Charlie returned her gaze to Joss. "Or at least build the rockets to get there."

Joss gazed at Charlie. "She sounds like an incredible person."

"An understatement. But, yes." Silence passed between them again before Joss spoke.

"Charlie."

"Yeah?"