Page 27 of Strange Lights

“Maybe later,” I say absentmindedly as his eyebrows shoot up. “What else can you do?”

“Dunno, took me a while to get the hang of it, but I think it will be easier to figure out now that I’ve got the basic idea.”

He looks around, and his eyes fall on a beer can. He raises his hand and squeezes it into a fist. The can implodes with a crack, and beer jets across the table, splattering my laptop and papers.

“Nice, real nice,” I say.

Calvin grins unapologetically. “Sorry.”

“The bullets are an interesting thought, but seems high risk for a first test. Your next assignment is figuring out the scale you can operate at. How much material you can work with, how fast you can work, from how far, and so on. There’re so many avenues to explore. . . .”

“Oh, I’m aware⁠—every time I find the answer to one of those questions, I come up with three more.”

“I’m not willing to shoot you”⁠—Calvin’s skeptical guffaw interrupts me, and I glare at him as I clarify⁠—“with bullets, to test out whether or not you can deflect them. But I bet I could figure out a lot of creative uses for you.”

I’m already thinking of the possibilities. I wonder if his power is limited to certain types of metals, or if the difficulty varies between them. I need to track down a metallurgist. Safety, weaponization, parlor tricks; the options really are endless. But I need to prioritize before I get overwhelmed. Most useful skills first, tricks and fancy shit later.

“I have so many tests to try. Think you could pick a lock? Or get out of handcuffs?”

Calvin gives me a wicked grin as he leans closer. “You into that kind of thing, eh?”

“If I was?” I tease.

“Just say the word.” Calvin is still smiling, but the joking tone drops from his voice.

“You mean for purely scientific curiosity reasons? Testing a hypothesis?” I say weakly.

“I mean, for the right person, I’m pretty open to experimenting.” His voice is soft and serious, he’s leaning close, and I inconveniently pick this moment to remember that he’s not wearing a shirt.

“I don’t know if I⁠—if right now⁠—” I can’t manage to string together a thought. But Calvin just ruefully shakes his head and keeps on smiling.

“For you, I’m willing to wait.” He backs away, gives me breathing room before I can retreat.

“And if you wait for nothing?” I blurt out.

“You’re never nothing to me, Reggie,” Calvin says emphatically. “Friendship isn’t a transaction. It isn’t about getting to an endpoint. I just like to roll down the windows, enjoy the scenery.” He clears his throat roughly. Straightens his glasses like he always does right before he expounds on whatever data have caught his eye lately. “Now, I’ve been looking at the elements on the periodic table⁠—”

He’s not just letting me come to him, not playing a game. He’s giving me space because I want it. And he’s so pretty, shirtless and going on about rare earth metals versus precious metals. Fuck priorities. Why the hell not? It doesn’t have to mean anything deep, this scenic detour. We’re all adults here.

I stare him dead in the eye, and with a cool confidence that impresses even myself, I interrupt, “How about metal zippers?” And tug at my hoodie.

His grin disappears as his mouth falls open in shock. I see him swallow, and his eyes darken as they dart down to the front of my hoodie.

“Reggie, are you sure? I wasn’t trying to pressure you.”

“Calvin, I know. Roll down the windows. Enjoy the scenery.”

“Oh. Oh, yeah, okay,” he stutters, voice cracking.

I raise my eyebrows in challenge. “I’m waiting,” I say in a self-satisfied tone.

Calvin laughs, low in his throat, his eyes flicking back up to meet mine again. His fingers twitch, and I can tell he’s concentrating. The zipper slides open slowly and precisely. We’re still standing feet from each other. The silence lengthens, and tension fills the air. The unbroken eye contact is more intimate than I expected.

“Lock the door, then,” I say, backing toward my bedroom, shrugging off my hoodie as I go.

The corner of Calvin’s mouth quirks up as the dead bolt clunks into place with a twist of his hand.

“Did I pass your tests, then?” he asks.