Confessions from an Astronaut Lover

 

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Confession 1: The Interview

 

November, 2024.

 

I think I have a confession to make. 

I have a really bad feeling about being assigned to Commander Rex Grayson. 

Problem number one: he's high profile. Like, top secret high profile. NASA's next astronaut selection has yet to be made. Every news source you can think of tease at the grand reveal to pump up the readers.

Who Are NASA's Astronauts for America's Return to the Moon?

NASA's Next Pick: Why it Matters.

Will the First Moon Woman Please Stand Up?

Problem number two: everyone in the office knows who the astronauts are, and that I'm assigned to Commander Rex Grayson. This should be a good thing. I should be at the top of my career and raking in the big success, but, it's far from the truth. It eats me up from the inside like I'm made out of sugar. I hate it.

Every time someone congratulates me on the news, a little part of me dies. I force a smile and act like I'm having the time of my life, when in reality, I'm a ball of nerves ready to explode. 

It doesn't make sense. This is what I wanted. It's what I always worked my ass off for. The long work days, microwaved dinners, and sleepless nights all built up to this.

I can't tell anyone else, but I don't even know if I want this anymore. What the hell is wrong with me?

 I spin around in my chair and there he is, on the poster of the Artemis-1 crew, hanging above the coffee machine. Rex is center right, his black hair swept neatly, a wave of grays appearing at his sides. There's a smile on his face, but if you happen to look closer, it's more of a smirk than a smile.

In a way, it's roguish.

What you can't see in the pictures is that this man spells trouble. He oozes a sexual charm that would make most women turn their heads. I'd be lying if I said I was completely resistant. But, this isn't what this is about, unlike what everyone else thinks.

The ladies in the office talked about Rex Grayson for months, and did everything they could to get assigned to him. Nothing was off the table to get upper management's good graces. Nothing. Our boss Jim Reedy laughed about it and started calling us 'Mooninites'. 

I don't think Jim gets it.

They're obsessed

At first, they formed a pact, but they quickly realized that the pact could no longer survive if they wanted a real chance at being assigned Commander Grayson. 

When the emails came and assignments were given, I wanted to melt into a puddle on the floor. Then, the complaints started coming in. The dresses I wore were “too sexy", my voice “not good enough” for interviews. 

Beth started to monitor my lunch breaks, like I'm back in high school. She peeks out of her office door to catch sight of me, then emails Jim something like, “I noticed that Clara Chase did not come back from lunch until 2:05 today. I would like to remind us that lunches are one hour, not an hour and five minutes.” Beth was gunning for the Rex Grayson, so I get it, she hates my guts.

Then there's Jenn, who started playing games with me as soon as 

I stewed on it for an entire weekend. I broke by Monday. For the rest of the week, I play this game with Jenn, staying later until she breaks. On Tuesday, she gives up at 4:45 in the afternoon. Wednesday was 3:50. By Thursday, she's back down to leaving at our usual time. 3:30. 

Truth is, no one can really top Aubrey Bell.

Aubrey is in her early twenties and also obsessed, I mean obsessed, with commander Rex Grayson. It was never a secret. She made it obvious with the entire office from Day 1. When I was given the assignment, she found me in the bathroom and cornered me at the sink. 

How could I forget?

Aubrey pulled out a tube of lip gloss and stared at herself in the mirror while she so matter-of-factually told me:

“You know, I should have went to Rex Grayson. I would have done a better job.”

Her sweetness is stripped away. What topped it off was the exaggerated eye roll. I snorted out a laugh. That day was the day I decided that the gloves were off. I didn't give a fuck anymore. 

So, I laughed.

“It's true, girlie." Aubrey smirked, but it was a different kind of smirk than Astronaut Rex Grayson's sexy smirk. This was her signature I'm a bitch smirk. "Jim was going to give me Rex, but then he decided I’d be better off with Emilia.”

“What's wrong with being assigned one of the first women going to the moon?” I asked. 

There's nothing uncool about that sentence, anywhere. Leave it to Aubrey to find something to complain about.

“She's nice, but she's not as nice to look at.”

My ears don't believe what they've heard. Why does everyone care about looks? We're returning to the moon, not scouting out models for Abercrombie & Fitch. It blows my mind.

I'm not so sure why she's so jealous. Aubrey is a perfect little person. Her email response time is light speed compared to mine, and whatever menial task there is to do, she's already there, doing it. Aubrey doesn't play the same games like the other girls. She's her own, special breed. The cheerleader of Public Affairs. She brings in her perfect, flakey quiche in for breakfast and has the slow cooker set up for lunch with her Crack Pot Chili.  

Not gonna lie, it's pretty damn good, but it's definitely a won up. I've been too tired to cook even for myself, but all the guys in the office rave about her chili to the point where they're asking her to bring it on launch day. 

Anyway, nothing about this makes sense. 

I should be the one who's a little bit jealous. I bring out my premixed salad from Aldi's and my brain replaces it with a delicious rack of ribs. Basket of wings. Flakey quiche. Crack pot chili. 

A girl like Aubrey… well, she's got all the time in the world ahead of her. She's young. Younger than me. She could go out to any bar and get any guy she wanted. 

Heck, even a really nice guy at the space center.

What did I do in my early 20's? I worked myself to death. At her age, I was still working at Starbucks to get my Communications degree for free. Well, it wasn't totally free. There's the whole bit where customers treat you like trash, and you don't even care anymore because you already lost your sanity during Frappy Hour.

I traded my soul for the buck. And my damn degree.

It was worth it. Frappy Hour turned me into a better, stronger woman. Or, at least, I tell myself that on a daily basis. With all of this recent moon insanity driving my coworkers wacky, or should I say lunatics, I have to look for the silver linings.

An email pops up on my computer screen, but I don't have time to look. I hear a voice behind me and spin around in my chair. 

Immediate regret. 

"Hey, Clara."

I cringe internally.

"Hey, Aubrey. What's up?" I ask.

"Nothing. Just bored. Whatcha doing?" 

Hah. Bored? How could she be bored? 

Aubrey Bell, Wonder Woman, has enough energy to manage the NASA Kennedy Space Center Twitter account, post the space image of the day, edit articles, and bring in her kitchen concoctions. 

“Answering emails." I tell her. "Don't you have enough to keep you busy for, like… the next quarter?” 

“Going to spend another weekend with your cats?” 

Ouch. 

I see her looking up my wall, at the pictures of my fur-babies taken with an old minolta camera.

Hitting me where it hurts. Guess I deserved it.

“Of course. Getting shit faced again this weekend?” I hit her with a bored tone of voice. 

“Of course. Especially tonight."

“What's so special about tonight?”

“Duh, the moon banquet.”

“Oh. I honestly forgot…”

Aubrey slaps her hands against my desk.

“That means you have nothing picked out to wear.” She stares at my computer screen. "Those looked like emails about Commander Grayson.” 

“No. No, they're not.”

“What are they, then?"

“It's Friday's schedule. You get them, too.” I insist. I scroll down to pull up the daily news and make it bigger for her to see. 

“See? Happy Friday. Yoga at noon. Here's the food truck schedule for next week.” 

“Food truck. I thinks I'll visit today's truck.” Aubrey throws me the side eye. For now, she gives up. She turns around and heads down the hall. 

“Friday means Hibatchi truck. Friyay!” The girls hear her and start to cheer. Friyay, indeed.

I squint my eyes and sink into my cubby. 

Fuck Aubrey. 

I only have 2 pictures of my beautiful cats. In one picture, Stella plays with her noisy ball and Cosmo watches. I catch myself before I spend the next hour analyzing the crap out of my life.

There's nothing wrong with your pictures or your desk. Concentrate on finishing today.

I flip open my 2024 planner and panic. The cute little cat drawings on the corner of the pages aren't doing anything to cheer me up. I tap my pen against October 4th's empty bubble and sigh. 

Moon banquet. 

Usually, I plan my needs based on day-to-day survival. It's a jungle out there, and the girls in the office are Amazonian piranhas. Moon banquet isn't a top priority for me.

You know, I don't know where Jim got his "Mooninite" idea. 

It's cute

The women in the office are the polar opposite of cute. The girls stalk their domain looking for fresh drama... fresh meat. The fact that I'm assigned Commander Grayson is the juiciest hunk of gossip the girls can sink their teeth in. 

At first, the ladies complained, then they laughed about how it isn't fair. 

Rex Grayson is the hot one. 

Then I started to feel the eyes burning against my back. It's bad enough I've witnessed Aubrey's transformation from an angel to Lucifer in a week's turnaround. It makes me feel all sorts of nervous. 

I have enough to worry about. 

Being assigned the commander of a historical mission is a big deal. The big leagues. NASA is going to want everything to be perfect. It's my job to make everything perfect, and nothing else in this entire world gives me more anxiety than perfection.

Glorifying and protecting Rex Grayson's reputation is my main objective. My sole purpose is to paint him like the Roman God he is, riding his chariot to the moon, shirtless and muscles flexing in the void of space. 

Do you know how hard that is? This is the perfect case of uncontrollable perfection. 

Crashes in a jet accident? 

I'm being called in to figure out the public release story. 

Caught drunk? 

Cover up.

Cheating on the spouse? 

Hide it. 

Womanizers?

Craft them into playful fly boys

In a rocky marriage?

Write them as a loving family. 

Nothing can ever be wrong with him.

Astronauts never have problems. That's the number one rule. I protect Rex Grayson from the media, the public, and if need be, even from himself. In a way it's almost like baby sitting.

I hide behind my desk wall, listening for anyone else coming down the carpeted walkway. I make sure Aubrey is long gone before my cursor slowly hovers back over to my top secret email.

 

INTERVIEW 8-4-23. (That's today.)

I reopen the window and read the message with Aubrey Bell speed. 

 

Hello, Clara.

Today we will be filming the beginning segment of Artemis interviews inside the Vehicle Assembly Building, Bay 1 at 1:00. Please meet outside the Security Checkpoint at the front of the gates with the filming crew. Talking points will be supplied. 

Thank you.

 

What in the frig?

How did Aubrey know that I had an email about the interview? Either way, I'm totally not ready for an interview with Rex Grayson... in 3 hours. I spring out of my chair and rush towards the bathroom, the smell of brewing coffee hitting me in the face.

The women's room always has an arsenal of lotions and perfumes. I also keep a small make up bag in there, just for emergencies like these. 

I am completely, totally, scatterbrained. These thoughts? They're blazing past the speed limit sign in my mind as I start picking up perfume bottles and wondering whether I want to smell like minty fruit or vanilla. 

What kind of smells do astronauts like?

Why am I even thinking about what kind of smells he likes? It's totally weird. I don't even know the guy. 

So, that means vanilla, right? 

I grab vanilla and spray it against my chest. Vanilla is so god damn boring. 

Wait. This is wrong.

I shouldn't be doing this. 

I mean, most astronauts usually have a hot wife, 2 kids, a dog, and an economy car. Maybe an electric one.

But, Rex Grayson looks a little different from the rest of the them. He's a new bred of astronaut, ushering in a new era of spaceflight. Maybe I detect a bit of a bad boy. 

I don't know why there's a part of me that exists that wants to attract that. It goes against everything that my job is supposed to be. Sterile, clean, professional… perfection. I didn't crawl on my knees through Frappy Hell to let Astronaut So-And-So take that all away.

I spray perfume in my neck and hair. It doesn't make it right for me to daydream about a stranger. Keyword: stranger. 

I'm getting way ahead of myself for no reason.

I sharpen the look of my eyes in the mirror and straighten my shoulder blades. I grab the sink to lift myself up and look into the mirror. Calm down.

My chest falls with my breath. I'm nervous about meeting him, and the cameras focusing on us, but since when has that bothered me?

“My name is Clara Chase and I'm not going to let Aubrey bully the crap out of me.” My reflection whispers these magic words.

The bathroom door closes behind me and I'm back in the office. I know I'm just joking with myself. I'm drowning in a sea of self-doubt, counting down the hours until my Friday is over with.

Or, like Aubrey says, Friyay

I will sit my butt down at this desk and do my job. My phone screen folds out onto my desk and lays flat. A storm cloud bubbles in the corner of the screen. Feels like 85.3 °F. 

Which is really hot for November. Yay, global warming.

My finger taps the search bar, and I make my shoulders wider to block any prying eyes.

I'm about to do the unspoken. 

'Rex Grayson' goes into the internal search engine we use for work. I hit “go”. It feels risque, even though I'm just doing what my job requires me to do. Research is my forte.

His smiling face comes into my eyes.

Grayson was born in Watkins Glen, New York. Born April 4, 1985 (age 37). He earned his PhD in Aerospace Engineering from the University at Buffalo in 2017.

We have absolutely nothing in common. He's a little bit older than me, and I've never been to New York, let alone out of the sunshine state, AKA, hell. I have no idea what my small talking points could be outside of the interview.

To make matters even worse, there's the words "Founder of Red Planet Society" in his biography.

Red Planet Society?

Why does that sound so familiar? Fans whirl inside of my brain as I drag up the conclusion. 

I've seen hundreds of Red Planet Society stickers on car bumpers, and sold in the tax free shops throughout work. It's sold on tee-shirts, golf balls, pens, and mouse pads. It's the merchandise for groupies who think going to Mars will solve all of their problems.

And this guy, Rex Grayson, has been the front-man of this brand this entire time?

I search for the Red Planet website and start reading the About Us. Not only could the website use some work, but the text is not only repetitive, it's hardly convincing. 

Mars is better. It's a new world, waiting for us, full of enough resources to power colonization... 

What a bunch of garbage. My hands go digging into the muscles in my temples that bring on the tension headaches.

He's one of those people. The ‘Mars is so great, we should just ditch Earth right now’ type. 

I hate the Mars movement. It's an easy thing to get behind, because Mars is new and shiny. Screw the hurricane ravaged coastlines, the people caught in wildfires and dealing with illness and disease. 

That's too hard to fix.

Humans are inherently lazy and always attracted to the biggest, newest thing. Our greatest weakness. Mars fits all of that criteria.

Mars is cool. And it doesn't have hurricanes, wildfires, and greedy politicians. 

I think Mars is pretty dumb. Not only is it not viable for everyone, but, I can see it now. Mars will only be an option for those who are young, healthy, or with stacks of dollars. In other words, you'd have to win the lottery. Rex Grayson and his crew have the Mars ticket if they want it, and it's not the luxury one.

If any of them choose to go on the first mission, it will be their last one. 

I look around the Red Planet Society website because I can't look away. There's a section where engineering masterminds share their visions of a paradise in Mars. Some real Ray Bradbury shit. Walls of text about leaving Earth behind for a better world.

It's these people, who I have a very hard time understanding. As the years go on I feel like the Earth beneath my feet is the only guaranteed thing that I have. I've already had too much happen. If only I could go back in time to hear what my grandmother would have to say about all of this.

She could never forgive a Mars lover. 

 

─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───

 

Learning about Rex Grayson being the Founder of the Red Planet Society has put me in a shit mood. At least I've moved past the denial stage. 

I watch the camera crew walk into the cafeteria and make a bee-line for the BBQ queue. Steve and Darius are a two-man crew, easily recognizable by their sweat stained, matching polos. 

Steve catches my eyes and throws his hand up. He abandons the BBQ line and pulls out the chair across from me.

"My God, it is brutal outside." 

“Hotter than heck, right?” I scratch my head.

“You bet. So, how are you doin', Miss Chase?”

"I'm in a bad mood." I admit.

"Aw. What's wrong, buddahcup?" 

"I don't know," I lie, "I just am."

"You know what, it's Friday. I don't wanna do this filmin' either. It looks like it's gonna storm outside. It's a bad time to be startin' a filmin' project, yanno?"

Steve gets me.

Darius sits down with a box full of brisket and fries. The greasy smell makes my stomach churn. I can't even think about eating. They start talking about how long they spent cleaning their pools last weekend and the cost of pool vacuums. 

I blank out because nothing makes sense to me. 

 I'm weak kneed about meeting Rex Grayson, even though he's just some pro-Mars punk. 

"You ready?"

I don't hear Steve's voice. I don't know even know how much time has passed.

"Hey, Clara. You ready?" He touches my shoulder and everything comes back into focus. 

"Of course." 

There's my chipper, autopilot response. I can't let Steve know that something is nagging me. If he finds out, I'll never hear the end of it. I scoot away from his hand and let it fall off of me. Ever since Steve mentioned divorcing his wife, a switch goes off. 

When I stand up, I feel my legs regain control. 

Black clouds are gathering on the horizon, rumbles of thunder rolling in the distance. We pile into one of the white government vans. The back door slides open and I climb in, setting my bag on the floor. Jimmy Buffett starts playing as we sit in the parking spot. Darius fills out the forum that needs to be completed every single time someone drives a government vehicle. 

It takes forever.

Finally, we drive. Steve zig zags through the parking lot, taking us across the street to the Vehicle Assembly Building (VAB for short). The VAB's gray walls go up 500 feet into the sky, it's left side painted with a massive American flag, it's right side with the NASA logo. The building is really an engineering feat on it's own, built to house the Saturn V rockets from the Apollo days. 

The details get bigger and bigger, turning us into insignificant dots.

I take a deep breath and channel my inner reporter. We stop at the security check and everyone pulls out their badge. I hand mine into the pile and the guard waves us through. 

My heart is pounding no matter what I tell my brain to do.

All I know is that we're getting closer. And there's no going back. 

Lots of people pay to meet an astronaut. Who doesn't want to say they've met an astronaut? It's a magical experience, complete with bragging rights. Except that meeting an astronaut is now my job. I'm do it to buy groceries, keep my AC running, and put gas in my tank to do the same thing over again. 

Getting to talk to the astronaut is a bonus perk, if you consider it that.

My eyes adjust as the van pulls into a small door for small human things like vans and trucks. I have to pretend like I'm not impressed in front of the guys, who probably go inside of the Vehicle Assembly Building more than I do.

We roll into a wide aisle, big enough for mythical giants to walk through. The concrete beneath of us is so smooth, it feels like we're driving on air. We park on the sidelines and the van doors roll open. 

I can't help but to feel out of place in a dress and kitten heels. Out here, it smells like steel and construction. Someone hundreds of feet above us is welding something, and the noise echoes for what sounds like miles. When we walk to our spot, there's workers wearing hardhats who stare at me like I'm the only woman they've ever seen in their life. 

Yep. Totally out of place.

I clutch my notebook, sweaty imprints from my fingers lingering on the cover. No sign of an astronaut.

Darius sweats while setting up the lighting equipment. Usually the light boxes get extended into the air on tripods, and form a circle around me and whoever I'm talking to. It's hard not to feel like the center of attention. Literally.

Darius turns on one of the lights and blinds me.

“Oh. Sorry 'bout that,” he flicks the light off, “Shoulda gave you a warning.” He laughs. 

I smile, but it quickly fades. I hear something higher pitched than Darius's baritone laugh. The voice flirts and flutters through the building, sending me into high alert mode. It's like the sound throws me into a fit of fight-or-flight, completely similar to when Aubrey Bell bothers me in the office.

Aubrey Bell.

My head snaps up, eyes wide. How'd she get in here? What's she even doing?

Darius turns around, his sweat stained back facing me.

“Woah, lil lady. It's been a hot minute since I've seen you. Whatcha doin'? Here to keep Clara in check?” He reaches down to wrap his arms around her. I just see Aubrey's orange hair sticking from the top of his embrace.

I feel my cheeks burn bright red.

Here to keep me in check.

I know it's a joke, and Darius doesn't mean anything by it, but something about it rings true against my rib cage. When Darius lets go of her, she finds me with her icy eyes and sneers. 

“I'm here to keep everyone in check. You guys are setting up in the wrong spot.”

"We are?” I ask.

“Yup. You guys need to take the elevator to the 34th level.”
Darius shakes his head.

“You guys gotta make me go up there?”

Aubrey giggles.

“I'm sorry.”

Darius wipes off a thick layer of sweat from his forehead.

“You know I don't like heights, girl.”

Aubrey sways back and forth.

I try to smile and act like I'm having fun, but I'm really thinking about how it feels to have my heart cemented and sunk to the bottom of the ocean.

I can't imagine why or how Aubrey got here. Was she assigned Rex Grayson, too? Did she take my spot? Will she be doing the writing and TV spots instead of me? 

“Are you helping with production?” I ask.

“You bet.” She says in a sing-song voice. “Just some organizational help.”

Steve and Darius look like pack mules when we're ready to move out. Steve has to turn sideways as our path leads into a hallway. Black tripod legs stick out from behind him and scrape the wall. Aubrey leads the way to the elevators that are in a dark, dank corner. The elevator shaft is caged with rusty fence. Aubrey does a good job of sticking her nose awfully close to an opening through the fence as I see the elevator cables start to move. 

I grab her shoulder and pull her back as the elevator cascades down to our height, so fast that it obviously doesn't care about cute, little noses. Everything about this building is loaded with history. Aubrey's lopped off nose would become history. 

The elevator doors shake open and reveals and old inside. Padded fabric peels and hangs off of the walls, stained with the smell of sweat and past summers. Steve and Darius fit in the back like Jenga pieces. Aubrey and I squeeze into the front. She hits the button for the 34th level and we go sailing away. I can hear Darius taking deep breaths as we're pulled up. 

“Are you gonna make it?” Aubrey turns back. “Please tell me you're not gonna hurl all over the place.”

He shakes his head. 

“I don't get sick. I get scared.” 

“Come on, man.” Steve elbows him. “You can do a little height, can't ya?”

Aubrey and I wear clashing perfumes that fight for dominance. The scents circulate above our heads until the elevator stops at level 34. 

I have no idea what to expect. 

When the doors open, the only thing that my brain can process is how very high up we are. Everything around us is so big, my brain can't process that everything is real. The trusses that wrap around the levels must have been some engineer's idea. It looks crazy enough that it works. 

Darius moves out of the elevator and the look on his face makes me hold back a laugh. Nothing is really funny about being this high up in a dress and heels. Then, I see a blue flight suit and my brain tries to register what's happening. 

There's a flurry of people dressed in button ups and blouses surrounding Rex Grayson. They orbit him like a celebrity. I have no idea who anyone is, or if I should be introducing myself.

When I get closer, details come to life.

Wow.

Now I know why the other girls in the office are fighting. He's standing on air. My bad mood lifts.

The group of professionals scatter and talk among themselves while Steve comes over with the heavy camera and sets it against the ground with a thud.

Rex sees me, looks me up and down, then stops at my chest. I can feel my face turn beat red. If I'm lucky, my make up is enough to drown it out.

"A notebook. How old school." He smirks. 

It's the same face that I was so familiar with on the EM-1 crew poster. He just smashed down my wall like it's nothing. I look down at my notebook, then stare back at him. It's sort of like a test, but he doesn't seem to budge. I move the notebook away from my chest.

"Commander Grayson. It's nice to meet you."

I hold out my hand like a wet noodle. I try to snap out of it. I squeeze his hand. I don't give no limp wristed, giggly handshakes like Aubrey Bell does. 

His warm hand envelops mine. 

“What's your name?”

He doesn't even know who I am. I swallow. 

“Clara Chase. I work in Public Affairs."

"Does Public Affairs supply you with the notebook?"

I throw a look at Rex Grayson, and he surprises me with a laugh. It's a charming sound that takes the wind out of my sails for a few seconds. Yeah, I get it. Notebooks are pretty old school when we have the new paper phones and e-glasses.

"I make articles on a typewriter, too."

He doesn't give me the pleasure of hearing a full laugh. He amuses me with a hum in his throat. I have to stop my brain from short circuiting and thinking about every detail of his that I like. I try to relax, even though it's impossible. 

I can tell his laughter makes Aubrey uncomfortable since she wasn't the one who made him laugh. I watch her turn away and nose her way into another conversation. 

There's so much going on. 

Steve is focusing the camera on us while the wind whips my dress. The air that blows through the building is nothing but electric.

"What do they have you doing in public affairs?" Rex asks.

"Well, right now, I'm kind of like, your fall guy. Except for taking the blame for you, I change it into something else." 

“Oh, yeah?"

“Yeah. I make it… better.” 

“So, you are a very important person, then, Miss Chase.”

I keep glancing at his arms, full of shame every time I sneak a peak. I can't stop thinking about how firm they look.

Maybe this was NASA's plan all along.

Put a good looking guy into the moon's orbit and suddenly the entire world will be paying attention to space exploration again.

"Can you step closer to Clara?" Steve interrupts us.

I try not to react. We take a step closer to each other and I can make out the details in Rex's blue flight suit. I have to remind myself to breathe. He's close enough for me to pick up on the soft scent of aftershave. Every time I breathe, he fills my senses. In the flash of a second, my view is sliding down his chest. 

God, this is so wrong. 

Bad. 

Bad, Clara.

"Do we look good?" Rex grins.

 My brain ignores him.

“Yep.” Steve clears his throat into his hands. “Can you see the 'prompter, Clara?” He hurries over to hand us clip-on microphones. 

I clip mine against my dress collar, watching Rex struggle with his. I take a step closer and carefully reach out. I anchor the microphone against the shirt underneath his flight suit. His hands slowly surrender as I take over. I feel his skin and muscle flex underneath my finger when he swallows. Once the microphone is on, I make an immediate retreat.

“Everything's good.” I call back to Steve.

“Great. We can go when you're ready.” 

He flashes us the thumbs up.

“Ready?" I ask Rex.

He lifts his dark brows. 

“Ready when you are.”

I turn my body to the camera and flash the ‘welcoming’ smile that I've practiced over two thousand times in the mirror. 

“Welcome, and thank you for tuning in. America has come far since that one small step. My name is Clara Chase and today we have the Commander of the Artemis-2 Exploration Mission. Rex Grayson is a native from New York, with a PhD in Aerospace Engineering. We're here today, to learn more about the historic Artemis-2 mission.”

"Hello, Clara." His voice is smooth. "My crew mates and I have been working together and training as a team since the beginning. We've been working hard preparing for our launch." 

I nod, pretending to be a news reporter, but it's hopeless. The world around me disappears. The crowd of people who I know are watching us disappear behind the bright lights. There's nothing and no one but Rex and and his velvety voice. 

After he gives his explanation, I nod.

"Can you explain Gateway for us?"

Rex licks his lips.

“Gateway is the first of it's kind. It will be placed in the moon's orbit two weeks before our launch. Our capsule will rendezvous with Gateway and we will spend 7 days in the moon's orbit, living in that module--”

I have no idea how, but I am going to crawl my way through this interview on my hands and knees. I might have to buy a quart of dairy free ice cream on my way home from work.

My eyes quickly scan the next talking point on the screen. 

“As the founder of Red Planet Society, the world wants to know more about the potential Mars mission in 2025. Are you in?"

I realize I'm making a face that wouldn't belong on a pleasant space reporter. I erase it like a casual. It doesn't stop me from cringing though, I sound like a patriotic Mars supporter. 

Rex chuckles and runs a hand through his hair. Mr. Charismatic ups the ante on his dial.

“That's right. There's been a lot of new things happening.” He pans to the camera. 

“The first human endeavor to Mars-- it's a serious thing. Going to Mars means the majority of your life will be spent there. The option of going back home won't be guaranteed like it will be on our trip to the moon.”

I smile anyway, because I have to. The world is watching, and I'm reminded when I see the pairs of feet behind the bright lights. Those are people. Watching us. The beams shining in my eyes dim out.

 It's over before I know it. 

Someone's phone rings and life goes on. Steve and Darius work like clock work folding up all of the tripods and lights. Aubrey is busy being her usual social butter-fly self.

I clear my throat as I snap the microphone off my dress.

“Your Red Planet brand is… interesting.” 

He looks down at me.

“It's not a brand. It's more of an idea.”

“Ditching the Earth is an idea, alright.” My heart rate elevates. 

“Oh, yeah?” Rex asks.

“Sure. It's being an advocate for giving up.”

What the hell did I just do? 

Rex pauses and laughs. “It's not about that, Miss Chase. You're misguided.”

“No. No, I'm not.”

He folds his arms. 

When I look around, I notice people staring at us, all other conversation has stopped. I don't know what's gotten into me. Hands down; starting an argument with the commander of EM-2 is the dumbest thing I'll do all year. 

Before anyone else can talk, a high pitched alarm rings through out the building. Everyone looks at each other with a delayed reaction. Steve leans over the railing, daring to look down.

“Un-be-live-able. They're having an evacuation now?" Aubrey makes her eyes wide like a puppy dog. I think her logic is if someone sees her, maybe they'll feel bad and turn off the alarm. 

“Are they serious? It's down pouring outside.”  

She's obviously still very caffeinated and high on life. Darius and Steve are like flies drowning in her honey. Rex glances down at his watch. The gaggle of professionals in suits and blouses don't question the evacuation. They crowd through the double doors to the stairwell. 

“It's 34 floors down! Can't we take the elevator?” Aubrey complains.

“It doesn't matter whether you're on." Steve pitches in. "Whether you're on the 34th level or the 60th level, if you take that elevator, you're going to lose your job.” He shuts her down and I love the way he did it. 

“You can't use the elevator?” Aubrey asks.

“Nope. If they catch you in there during a drill or real evacuation, doesn't matter which. They'll take your badge and this'll be your last day.”

The dark haired astronaut looks at me for one last time, that up to no good smirk sending daggers through my heart.

“I take it you aren't a Mars advocate, then.” He holds open the door to the staircase for me. 

I go down a few steps and feel the burn in my calves begin.

“Not really.” I reply to Rex, my cheeks puffing out with air. 

I have to go down 34 levels of stairs in heels, try not to break my damn ankles, and stand outside for god knows how long in an absolute down pour. Not to be a total Aubrey, but this sucks. 

Really sucks.

“The human species won't survive if we don't expand." Rex says.

I look down a few flights down and see that Aubrey is kicking my ass. She's so far ahead, I can barely see her orange head. A few levels down are the execs and astronaut connoisseurs a like, mixing in with the sweat soaked rocket technicians. Everyone comes in through the double doors at every odd level, joining the congregation. 

I stop at the next landing and grab onto the railing. I reach down to grab the back of my heels and hold them. My bare feet dance on the concrete. 

“Humans will just destroy themselves no matter what planet they're on.” I huff and puff.

Rex Grayson is staring at me, waiting, a few steps down from me. 

“Want some help?” He asks.

“Uh, no… sorry.” I don't even sound like myself. Trust me. I'd disappear if I could. 

Rex slowly grins.

“You sure? You'd actually be doing me a favor."

“I would?”

“Yeah. Let me show you.” He waves his fingers in a way that puts me under a spell. I think I know what he's doing. One arm settles behind my legs, the other wraps around my shoulders. Rex lifts me into the air like I'm made out of feathers. The view of the stairs underneath me becomes disorienting. 

My arms cling around his neck. If I let go, I'll die. 

“You'll help me get some reps today.” Rex looks down as he jogs down the stairs. 

“Maybe I should just get down...” I tell him under my strained breath.

“You sure? You're the perfect weight.”

Is that a good thing or a bad thing? 

“I am?” I blurt out.

“Yeah. You fit nice in my arms." 

My cheeks are on fire. Who is this man? It's all his fault that I'm now thinking about what other ways I'd fit. An amused look spreads across his face. He laughs.

 “Now's a good time to convince you that Mars isn't a gimmick. Or a brand, you know.”

“While I'm held hostage? I don't think you have enough time.”

We're going down these stairs like they're nothing, which is both impressive and disappointing. 

To be honest, this is the first time a guy has touched me in… a long time. Rex's warm hand melding into the backside of my legs is enough to fuel my imagination for months. 

We get to the bottom, and I drop my shoes to the floor. They both fall over.

“Thank you, uh, I think I should walk now.” 

Unfortunately. 

Rex's arms stiffen and shake when he lowers me down. I slide my bare feet back into my heels and become one inch taller. We don't have a choice but to wait outside with everyone else in the thick sheet of rain. I take a deep breath and the door opens.

The rain is unforgiving. 

All around me are men with soaked through button-ups, mixed with workers looking miserable in boots and jeans. Aubrey is easy to find with her wet hair. She's yapping back and forth between Steve and Darius. About her wet shoes. The weather. Her mascara.

“Clara made it.” She announces. “Steve was wondering if he had to go back in for a rescue.”

Rex Grayson turns on his charm.

“It wasn't necessary.”

I have to look down to hide my smile. Rain drenches my hair, makes my vision blurry and god damn, I'm not wearing water proof mascara. My dress sticks to parts of me that I'd rather not let everyone else see. 

People turn and gawk when the fire engine and police escort come blazing down the road to be waved through the security gate. Aubrey tries talking during the commotion, but no one can hear her.

“…Right, Clara?” She asks. 

“What?” I blink.

“I was talking about the party tonight.”

Party? What the hell is she talking about? She sees the look of confusion on my face and holds out her hands expectantly.

“Oh. Are you talking about the cocktail… thing?”

“Where have you been? It's the moon banquet, Clara. You can't tell me you're not coming to the moon banquet."

Right. How could I have forgotten? The last thing I want to do is go to an after work-work function.

“Er…”

Aubrey ignores me.

"Are you coming, Commander Grayson?” Aubrey asks. 

My dirty, horrible mind, is imaging myself asking the same question.

“I am.” His answer is going to send Aubrey through the roof. Suddenly, the rain doesn't matter anymore.

“Though, you know, I pretty much have to.” He adds.

“Sweet!” Aubrey slams her fist into her hand. “We're gonna par-tay before the mission gets serious."

Steve laughs. His blond hair falls across his forehead.

“What are you gonna wear, Aubs?” 

Figures. All Steve wants is to see hot chicks.

“Oh, nothing too fancy. I'm still gonna look fab, though. Who else gets to go to a moon banquet?" 

“You got a point.” I admit. 

These things don't happen too often. 

Aubrey looks over the moon when I say this. Haha, get it? 

“So, you're gonna come? You have to if Commander Grayson is.”

I try not to look at him because I feel my cheeks start to burn again. This is definitely why I've had a really bad feeling about being assigned Rex Grayson.

“You're right. I guess I should."

Aubrey smiles.

“Good for you, Clara. More fun than hanging out with your cats, right?"

That bitch…

“You know what's not fun?” Steve says out loud, “Going back up to level 34 and getting all of the camera gear.”

As much as Steve grates on my nerves, I silently thank him for distracting everyone.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Confession 2: The Surf Club

November 4th.

7 PM.

 

Water slicks underneath the tires as I pull into a space at the Surf Club. Every other space is full. I take a deep breath and open the car door. I step into a puddle, my heels just high enough to prevent me from going swimming. My Hyundai locks behind me. 

Something about the air tonight is electrifying and contagious. Thick clouds blanket the beach, covering the sky with thick clouds. The orange streetlights cast their hue on everything. 

 I'm faced with the party. I used to like parties. We all had to make up for the soul sucking time spent working at Starbucks.

Now, I'm not so sure anymore.

A moon banquet sounds incredibly fun. Like, once in a life time kind of fun. Especially if it means that I get to stare at Rex Grayson's handsome face again. I mean, after today's excitement with the mandatory evacuation, I'm exhausted. 

I feel pretty justified for not being as excited as I should be. 

There's people already climbing the steps to the bar, some people laughing and smoking outside, obviously getting a head start with a few drinks in their hands.

I exhale. 

I'm sure some of these people are my coworkers. They have to be. The email went out to everyone. But, when I look at the faces in the dark, the slow realization creeps that I don't recognize a single god damn person. 

I could just turn around now. 

It's not too late to turn back, go home, take everything off. Wipe off my layer of make up and let my face breathe. I suddenly feel so stupid standing here, wearing my silver tulle dress, which I only picked out because I made the correlation between silver and the moon in my post work day exhaustion.

I don't want to see Aubery. 

Even worse, Steve. 

It's like the further his divorce crawls along, the harder he tries to get with me. A place like this is only going to give him bad ideas. I look down at my dress and start to wonder if this was a bad idea. The front door opens and the bass comes to life. Music hits me in the face.

The inside is covered with silver streamers, shiny, shimmering, with glitter falling from everywhere. I feel like I'm stepping into a fantasy. My two feet are in and it's too late to turn back. There's people wearing glowing sunglasses, sequin covered dresses, and a few guys dressed up like flight controllers from the 1960's. I spy the ugliest suede maroon suit jacket I've ever seen.

“Ah, Clara. Good to see you.”

I spin around to see my white haired boss, Jim Reedy, smiling at me. His face always impossible to decipher, even at a party. He wears a button up with one of his rotations of space themed ties. Tonight it's astronaut snoopy holding an American flag on the moon's surface.

“Hi, Jim.” 

“Glad you could make it. You look nice tonight.”

“Thanks.”

“Oh. Before I forget, there was something I wanted to tell you.”

Fuck. Please don't tell me that someone saw me being carried by Rex. That's really the last thing I need right now.

“What's that?” I ask as casually as possible.

“Let's get away from the doorway for a minute.” 

Jim waves me over, further into the lion's den. Definitely no going back now. I follow him, my eyes distracted by trying to seek out other familiar faces that could rescue me.

“What's up?" I ask him nervously.

“I wanted to make sure Aubrey wasn't too much for you today.”

“Oh." I laugh with relief. "Oh, right. Yeah, Aubrey. I just wasn't aware that she was going to be helping. I wish I was kept in the loop, you know? It's important.”

“Well, I had to give her something to do," He rolls his eyes, “She wouldn't shut up about Grayson."

“So, you gave her busy work?” I ask.

“I figured that she could help with a whole bunch, since she has so much energy. Hopefully, it'll make things easier for you. Once her interviews with Emilia starts, she'll be busier than she can handle.”

Yeah, right. Thanks, Jim.

“There she is!” The all too familiar, sugar coated voice breaks us off.

“Speak of the devil.” Jim smiles.

Aubrey makes herself known by swooping in front of me, holding a glass of champagne.

“You made it, girl.” She looks me up and down. “Your dress is to die for." She reaches out and grabs my wrist. “Come over to the bar, we'll get you some bubbly." 

“I'll see you ladies around.” Jim is immediately swallowed in the crowd behind us. 

I'm dragged even further away from the door. The ceiling billows with silver streamers over a floor people dancing to disco pop.

“I'm not a big drinker, but I can have one.” I tell her.

“Just one?” Aubrey smiles, her lips shiny from whatever gloss she's wearing. Her long red hair looks gorgeous pulled back and in waves. 

“Yeah. One, or, something like that.”

She winks.

“Ahhh, I like the way you think.”

We sit down at the bar and I take a deep breath, preparing myself for mental mind games and gymnastics. 

Aubrey taps the bar with her hand.

“Can she get what I have?” She holds up her glass, showing off her matte nails.

“I like your nails.” I try to ease her over with flattery to make the night easier.

“Thanks! I wanted to match.” She spins around to show off her long sleeved turtle neck dress. All black.

“I kept it simple tonight, but I like your dress more." She does the impossible and hits another compliment back at me. 

I have to stop and think.

“All black, is classy though. Simple is best.” 

In her court again.

“Look. Your dress makes you look like a princess. Just accept it. I like the high to low style.”

I laugh. “Thanks. I like it, too.”

The bartender refills a tray of champagne flutes. I grab the closest drink and hold it close to me.

“So, what'd you think about Rex?" She asks.

I try to feign ignorance.

“The astronaut from earlier?”

Aubrey snorts.

“He's the commander of the first moon mission, not just any astronaut."

I raise my shoulders and take a long sip of fruity champagne, the taste drying on my tongue. 

“It was interesting…" I stay vague on purpose. “I didn't know you were going to be there this afternoon."

Aubrey proudly smiles.

“Jim said his assignment would require a lot of help, since he's practically like a celebrity and all. By the way, Rex, Emilia, Sarah and Grant are all supposed to be here tonight.”

“Seriously?” A woman next to us turns around. 

I internally sigh when I recognize Tracie from security, and when Tracie and Aubrey manage to get together, they turn into a literal whirlwind of gossip.

“Yeah! You didn't know?” Aubrey is more than happy to be the one delivering the news.

“Gosh, that one guy is a dreamboat.” Tracy shakes her head.

Aubrey sets her near empty champagne glass against the confetti coated bar.

“Tell me about it."

“Hey, darlin's.” There's a Southern accent that sings behind my ears. 

I turn around in my seat to be blinded by a light. Steve is standing there with a camera on his shoulders. Aubrey gives an exaggerated groan.

“Steve! You're blinding me.”

“Sorry ‘bout that.” 

The camera light goes off.

“They're making you work this late?” I ask him, hiding my dread. I knew that Steve would show up one way or another. 

“You betcha. Mornin', night, it don't matter. They needed footage of tonight. I said that I'd do it."

“They sure know how to keep you busy.” I feign politeness. 

“Tell me about it.”

“Poor, Steve." Aubrey pouts. "We love you for working so hard.”

No, Aubrey, we don't love him. Don't give him any ideas… too late.

My face is probably as red as a beet. I try to avoid Steve's face at all costs, because I can feel him staring at me with laser focused eyes. 

“Thanks, girls. I gotta go make my rounds and make sure I get footage of the astronauts. You gonna stick around, Clara?”

Of course he asks about me.

“I'm here.” I raise my glass and try to look happy.

“Sounds good. I'll see you ladies around.”

“Bye, Steve.” Aubrey waves. “Catch me on camera, will you?”

Typical of her.

“You bet.” He winks before he turns around, lugging the cumbersome camera on top of his shoulder. 

I watch him for a minute. People see him and practically throw themselves in his view to record themselves having the time of their lives. 

The entire point of the moon banquet isn't entirely known to me. Is it a morale booster, a booze fest, or both? Or even worse, a test. Whatever the objective is, it's working. Office politics and foes are cast aside, at least from the outside looking in, safe at my perch.

Music stops playing and a microphone screeches. 

“Alright, folks. Welcome.” 

People stop talking, one by one.

“Glad to see everyone having a good time. Some of you may have already heard that the astronauts and here and it's true.”

The excitement level starts to surmount.

“Everyone welcome our EM-2 crew!”

Applause erupts from everywhere as everyone crane their heads in anticipation to find the astronauts. They come on the stage, larger than life, all 4 of them waving like untouchable heroes. Rex Grayson, especially, looks unphased by the amount of attention focused on them. 

I can hear Tracie behind me.

“That man is so good looking.”

I'm surprised that Aubrey even heard her. She's been jumping up and down like a little bean, her champagne glass now empty.

“You're telling me.” Aubrey fans her face. “I mean, Grant isn't bad for his age, either.”

Astronaut Emilia Torres waves to Steve's camera and flashes a thumbs up. She steps up to the microphone first.

“Thank you, everyone.” She leans into the microphone. “We came tonight, really, to thank you guys. For working so hard on covering the upcoming mission.”

Cell phones go shooting up into the air to capture the moment.

Rex takes the microphone off of the stand and brings it to his mouth.

“What Emilia said is true. Without reporters, writers, creators… this space administration wouldn't be what it is today. You guys get people excited about space again, and that's important. The excitement wouldn't be there without you." 

Morale booster be damned, it's working on me, too. 

Rex is… well… as suave as a commander could be. He passes down the microphone to Sarah, who's blonde hair is pinned back and soothed over with hair spray. 

“All I have to say is: the rest of the world will be watching."

People clap.

They end their spiel, the party is back on. Lights dim, music returns. People crawl all over the astronauts for a chance to talk to them and take a selfie. 

Aubrey sees this and immediately digs her phone from her purse.

“I've GOT to get a picture with him. And Emilia.” Aubrey adds Emilia like she's an after thought. "But, first, I need to re-up.” She exchanges her empty champagne glass for a full one.

Tracy spins around in her chair.

“Need help, hon?”

“Um. Yeah. I'll take your picture, too. Clara, want to come?"

“Maybe I'll get a picture later.” I lie.

“You should really lighten up." 

At first, I don't understand what she means. What part of my life needs the lightening up? All of it?

“What?”

"You're always so serious, Clara. It reflects in the articles you write at work." Aubrey slurs over her words the slightest bit, but I have to hand it to her, it's an astute observation for a ditzy, tipsy girl.

“What does Clara write?” Tracie asks, obviously out of the inner loop of Public Affairs.

“Doomer day crap about pollution and climate change.”

I bite my inner lip.

Aubrey turns back to me, as if I wasn't even sitting in front of her.

“You should take your picture with the astronauts now before they leave."

“Don't worry. I will.” 

“Suit yourself.” Aubrey latches herself onto Tracie. 

“Let's go.”

I watch them disappear into the currents of astronaut groupies. Being left alone at the bar is both a blessing and a curse. It gives me time to survey the moon banquet domain, see who's had too much to drink, and who's going to end up making out with somebody at the end of tonight.

The words doomer day crap bounces around the echo chamber of my mind. It doesn't help when loud disco music starts to play. Thankfully, someone lowers the volume. I cross my legs and turn to the bar when I feel the presence of someone behind me. 

Steve lowers the camera and rolls his shoulder as he sits down next to me. Ugh. Please, no.

“Enjoying yourself?"

I take a sip of champagne and pray to the booze gods that its gives me something witty to say.

“As much as I can.” I fall flat.

Steve finds it funny, though. He'd laugh at anything I'd say just to please me.

“Good.” He nods his head and I follow along with him. “You don't look like it though.”

This is beyond awkward for me. Steve is completely artless when it comes to flirting, and can't take any body language hints whatsoever. 

Whatever he wants, I don't give it to him. That doesn't stop him from trying, though.

“I don't?” I give him a comical pout. “How about now?”

“Now, now, there. Who dragged you here?”

That didn't take long. This is what he's come here for: to weasel out information as to whether or not I had a beau take me to the banquet.

“Aubs did.”

I watch him digest my reply.

“Figures. But, I'm glad she did. I know I'm happy to see you here. I'm sure others are, too."

“It's good to see you, too.” A little dishonesty makes it past my teeth. I've found that patting Steve on the head and giving him a little acknowledgement is enough to please him. And, it works.

He makes his way back towards the camera and sighs like it's a chore, even though I know he loves videography.

“Back to the grind, I suppose. At least for a little bit longer. Between us filming earlier and now this, I'm tired.”

“It's almost over.” I give him a nudge.

“Almost.” Steve dolefully picks up the camera. It's enough encouragement to make him continue his job and go away. I celebrate with another tiny champagne sip. 

The inside of the Surf Club is starting to feel warm. The windows that wrap around the second floor are covered in a film of white, wet fog. Enough people have been congregating drinking, talking, and laughing for long enough that the place is turning into a bit of a sweat box.

I see her flaming red hair first. Aubrey comes over, shoving her phone into the air for me to see. I hardly pay attention to the picture.

“You should dance with me.”

“I'm not a dancer.” I hold my hand up defensively. 

“You are now!” Aubrey grabs my wrist and drags me off my bar stool perch. We head onto the dance floor, into blue spotlights that move around a shadow of heads. 

“Aubs, you're drunk."

“Shh. No, I'm not. This ain't about fun. You think I could get a thank you for dragging you away from Steve."

“Oh." I blink with surprise. "I… well, thank you for rescuing me. Was he coming over again?” 

“Yeah. He was getting a second wind. Ugh. I gotta go pee."

“Please tell me I don't have to follow you pee.”

Aubrey sticks out her tongue.

“I wouldn't get that hammered at this party. I do need you to hold this for me as a favor for me rescuing you.”

She hands me her drink before shoving herself into an opening to escape. 

Here I am, feeling like an idiot holding two champagne glasses when I see a blue flight jacket emerge in front of me. 

“Hi.” Rex Grayson eyes the glasses and takes them, setting the glasses onto the stage. 

“Hi.” I repeat like a fool.

“You didn't bring your notebook?” It takes me a second to realize he's teasing me.

“I'm off-duty.”

“Good. Dance with me.”

“Wh-what? Look, I can't handle anymore dancing." I look around, my face burning up. “We can't.” I defend.

“What do you mean, we can't?" 

The way he moves against me feels like an invisible rhythm, that pulls me in. My face and neck scorch red hot. I can’t pull away. I can’t stop. I can only hope, pray, that the flurry of colors and lights distracts people enough from seeing us.

“Of course, you can." He says. "We are right now.” 

What a smartass.

“You have until this song ends." I tell him. 

I'm to embarrassed to meet his face. Instead, I anchor my gaze at his gold embroidered astronaut wings. 

“Not enough time." Rex tells me. He repeats my tease from earlier that afternoon, carrying me down the stairs. Not nearly enough time.

I feel heat rising from my neck and wafting into my face. My chest rising and falling as he forces this rhythm onto us. There's nothing to distract me or give me relief from him.

I turn my head.

“I'm sorry. I…”

Aubrey is probably coming back by now. I shake my head.

“Gotta go.”

Aubrey's words echo back to back in my memories. Clara with her doomer day crap. I pull myself away from Rex Grayson. 

Really? I gotta go? That's what I come up with? That sounded… so incredibly stupid. 

I need fresh air. This stupid moon banquet is turning out to be more trouble than it's worth. 

Relax, Clara.

Except I can't. Everything too overwhelming. My heart is beating so fast, it could fall out of my chest. I keep my head low, hair obscuring part of my face as I move along with the crowd. When I turn my head to check behind me, career woman Clara is chasing after me with such ferocity that I'm terrified that she's right. 

Somewhere in front of my is an open door, a portal flowing out cooler air. I need to get out.

The door closes behind me and takes the sweat, drinks and music with it. Cigarette smoke mingles with the sea air. Just as my breathing starts to calm down, the door opens and out comes Rex Grayson.

“That's better.” He runs a hand through his hair. 

 I force myself to look over and immediately regret it. His eyes trail lower, down to my legs. He does this deliberately.

“This is… a work party." I try to explain this in a round-about way. A guy as smart as Rex should get what I'm saying, right?

Rex raises a finger into the air. “This is a good thing, because I have a work proposition.” 

“Just what I want at 8 PM on a Friday.” I cross my arms.

“Come on. I wanted to ask you if you'd wanna write for Red Planet Society.”

I look up at him. 

“What? No!"

"You're a tough catch." His hand lazily runs across his mouth. He cuffs his chin.

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"I don't think anyone has ever said no." Rex's lips tug into that half-smile.

"I'm the least Mars junkie you could pick."

He laughs.

“I don't need a Mars junkie, I want someone level headed.” 

"But, I work in an office full of writers.”

“Yes, but, you're a very opinionated writer.” Rex carefully explains.

"I... I'm a very busy person." I don't know why I say this. I'm grasping at straws. No one wants to say no to the commander of the mission, but I will.

All I have to do is say yes, but I don't say it. My automatic defense goes up. 

"You'd have to strap me down to get me to write something I don't like."

Rex lifts an eyebrow. 

"I like a challenge."

He stares straight ahead, looking sharp next to me as I run a hand across my dress. 

Is that what I am? 

A challenge?

I had to look away from him to keep the heat away from my face. I don't think I've ever been this conflicted in my life. Seriously. 

The rational part of my brain sneers: "This is just a colleague trying to discuss work and make a connection." 

The polar opposite side is practically whimpering: "He wants you."

Then, there's the completely professional career woman in me who's shaking my shoulders and yelling "What in the hell are you doing?" 

Hormones are totally throwing me off.

“It's going to be harder for me to talk to you when I'm in Texas, so I thought I'd ask now." Rex clears his throat. "And it's even harder when a bunch of execs are orbiting around.”

“When are you going to Texas?”

“Tuesday. I know that's not enough time to convince you that Mars is a good idea and to write about it.” 

I feel my barrier break. 

“Would you really go to Mars?”

He reads my mind before I can finish.

“All the way through.”

“You'll leave a lot behind." I warn him.

Rex looks at me incredulously. 

“Well, you're not wrong.” He leans against the wooden railing. “Going to the moon is kind of like a camping trip. Mars is more one way…”

“Right. You wouldn't care about living on Mars until you're, like, 65? Or dead?" 

“Fear is boring.”

He even answers like a naturally born leader. 

I hold my arms, trying to warm them. “If you wanted me to write and work some PR for you, you would have to convince me how Mars isn't a stupid idea.”

"First, I have to ask why you think Mars is a stupid idea."

"I mean… these space companies have enough money to fix problems on Earth. But, instead, it's just one big race to get away from everything. Oh, and, you know, humanity will end up treating Mars like a dump."

"It would take a long time for humans to trash Mars, since that's what you think."

“That's not true. Tell me why humans want to drop nukes on Mars, then.”

"It'll be cold if we don't." He smiles.

"No. No, my point is that you're supporting the most destructive thing possible. It's typically... human."

His shoulders roll with a shrug.

"It's science."

The wind rolls off the ocean, flowing between us. 

“It's bullshit. Science can fix our home, first-- what are you doing?"

In one fluid movement, he sends his heavy jacket over my shoulders. It drapes down to my thighs. 

I'm wide eyed. I really don't know whats going on anymore.

“You don't want it?" He asks. "Looks like you're freezing.” 

“No. I mean, yes, but no. Listen. You can't do something like that. That's your jacket.”

I shimmy the jacket off of my shoulders. 

“Yeah, so?” Rex asks, taking the jacket from me.

I give a weak laugh. I lower my voice.

“This is a work function. With booze. It's a test. I shouldn't even be talking to you for this long."

At this point, there's a heavy mist falling from the gray clouds. Droplets of fog cling to my hair. 

“You play a hard game.” Rex adds.

“It's my job,” I hitch my purse up my shoulder, “It's getting late. I'm tired.” 

"And, I've barely convinced you. I can tell." Rex says.

“Yeah, you're going to have a hard time. It might take awhile."

“I'll work on you.”

“Sure you will,” I tease him, “You can help by walking me out of here.”

Rex taps on the wooden railing. He seems to bite back more words. “Of course.”

As much as I don't want to leave, I can't wait to go home, change, put my hair up, and surrender to bed. This is bullshit. I'm not here to be convinced that life on earth is just some lost cause. 

As I get closer to my Hyundai, it's just another step to spending the rest of the night alone. 

 I've heard it all before, but this time, there's something different in the way he looks at me and talks to me. 

It's like he wants something from me.

 I'm guilty as sin to admit that I like him. Even though we barely know each other, I like the way he talks to me, and the way he jokes and laughs. He has a brain that I could pick a part for hours. I wonder what the rest of him is like.

But as I get closer to my Hyundai, it's just another step to spending the rest of the night alone. 

“Trust me, it'd be mental gymnastics for me to come up with something… nice to say about humans colonizing Mars."

“Maybe you'll change your mind.”

I look at him and force a smile.

“No. Sorry. I have enough work to handle on my own, already.”

The lines in the palms of my hands are making sweat. I feel it against my key fob. Red lights flash from my tail lights when my car unlocks. I take a peak at Rex, who looks distracted. He stares across the parking lot as I squeeze to my driver's side. 

We're face to face now. I have to say something, but I don't know what.

What am I supposed to be doing? I should be getting into my car. Why am I questioning basic functions? Every ounce of me who is career woman is forcing me to climb into my car, so I do. I open the door and roll down the side window. It's like I'm being held hostage. The mist falls into my car, dotting the interior.

Before I can fight him back, Rex is shoving something through the window.

“Take this, anyway. It's a souvenir.” His flight jacket falls into my lap and covers me. 

“What? No--"

“There's no one out here.” Rex cuts me off. 

Whatever face I've been making, he sees through me like glass. For a split second, the fear of being caught runs through me, but he looks down on me with a different intention. 

“Shame you're leaving early.” He tells me.

The heavy fabric of his jacket smells worn, whatever internal chemistry that mixes together all day leaves behind pheromones that distract me beyond the point of thinking.

“I… have a good night, Commander Grayson.” 

Rex grins.

“Check the pocket.”

I look reach into the jacket and pull out a business card. I start to grasp that this is real.

“Subtle." I tease him. 

“Call me.” He tells me.

The longer I wait here, the greater the risk. I have to get out of here. Rex has already turned away, walking to the other side of the parking lot.

When I look back as I reverse out of my space, I throw a worried look in my mirror. The career woman version of Clara had been gagged and bound in the back seat of my car. 

I try to soothe myself to logic. 

There's nothing suspicious about my car leaving the party. I'm leaving the same way that everyone else does. I stop before the highway, blinker on, looking both ways before turning south. Rain rolls underneath my tires again, water splashing everywhere when I hit the usual pothole in the right lane.

Rex Grayson's spice is filling up my entire car.

The rear view mirror exposes an unsettling darkness. It doesn't matter how much farther I go, speed or distance doesn't stop the thousands of demons chasing behind me. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Confession 3: The Crush

November 8th, 2023.

 

"Good morning. It's 6:30 AM, November 8th, 2023."

 

My eyes creak open, staring at nothing in particular. The morning hasn't even rubbed the sleep from it's eyes. My bedroom is dark, and I more than ever hate my alarm. A soft woman's voice brings me farther away from a dream that I didn't want to end. 

“Today's weather for Cape Canaveral, Florida: High of 72 degrees. Chance of rain: 100%. Here's some news that I picked out for you today." 

I'm pretty sure I was dreaming that Rex Grayson was laying next to me, naked, stomach down against the most comfortable blanket in the world. We were rolled up in a cocoon of blankets.

The woman's voice gets louder. 

“Single Use Plastic Ban Prompts Flurry of Memes. Ask me for more."

We were kissing. The kind of kissing that I don't remember doing since high school. The kind where you're exploring each other so deeply, nothing else matters. The feeling of his tongue… 

God. It felt so real…

 "This Coastal Florida Town is Moving Inland. Ask me for more. NASA Reveals Moon Astronauts for 2023 Moon Mission. Ask me for more…"

I could lay here and think about this guy for hours.

That's a problem. 

“Stop.”

“Got it. Have a good day!” The woman's voice chimes.

I sigh and lay still.

The first thing that greets me is that sinful smell. I honestly have no idea how I'm supposed crawl out of bed to work 8 hours, completely depraved of Rex's jacket and my urge to masturbate. His jacket has been my hideaway from the world since Friday night. I know it's warmth, I know it's shape, and everything about it makes me think of things that I don't know.

I imagine fantasies that never happened on Friday night. I replay memories over and over again, changing something different each time I do. I'd imagine what it would be like if we really did kiss. Would he be patient and wait for my lead? Take me over like he's the one in charge?

It sends me into a fool's paradise. 

“Time?” I call out with a croak in my throat. 

“6:34 AM.” The woman replies.

“Shit.”

The second coherent thought that hits me is that this is fucking crazy. I'm supposed to actually go through an entire day's worth of work like I'm clueless. Like I haven't been thinking about Rex's phone number for two days straight. Nonstop.

My brain says one thing, my body does another as I expose myself to the freezing, cold confines of the world. The air conditioning runs constantly when it's rainy and muggy outside. Today is a big day. NASA's Astronauts picked to return to the moon was on every single news station last night. Rex Grayson and his crew, especially Emilia and Sarah were famous.

I was starting to develop even a bigger crush on Rex after I watched him pull one of his big PR smiles as he explained, “I will support the first women on the moon every step of the way. It's my job to make sure they will be the one's to support them make history."

Men supporting women like that is dreamy. The future is here.

I channel my inner Aubrey Bell and open my dresser to pull out a black dress. Gold buttons are stitched up to its folded white collar, and on the sleeves. 

I take my favorite pair of mint kitten heels from the closet hanger.  In the yellow light of my bedroom, I catch Rex's jacket in the corner of my eyes, folded up neatly against my pillow so the cats don't sleep on it. 

I think I can do this.

 

─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───

 

7:52 AM.

 

The drums in my ears that is my heartbeat gets louder and louder. My kitten heels wobble as the elevator shakes its way up. George, the head of the Electrical Engineering department, is riding the elevator with me. The cup of Dunkin' Donuts he has fills up the tiny elevator with this wonderful smell.

“That was some party they had Friday night. Did you go?”

I was hoping he wasn't going to say anything about that, but he did.

“Yeah,” I answer casually, “It was pretty fun.”

“My wife and I went.” He shrugged. “It was fun, but a little bit too much drinking for me.” 

The elevator stops at my floor and the lift stops.

“Same here, George. I'll catch you later.”

He laughs quietly. “Have a good day.”

“You too!”

The ugly lighting of our floor is rude and annoying. A dreary sky fills the windows while drops of rain hit the glass. Florida has been nothing but a soupy, foggy, rainy mess. 

I want to be back in bed, wrapped in you-know-who's jacket, thinking about things I shouldn't.

The only thing that could make this better is a cup of coffee. I plop my pink and black lunch bag against my desk. This is my little corner of the world. I'm blessed to be by the windows, and blessed to have a view that looks down the aisle to see whoever comes my way. 

My computer wakes up (lazy bastard) and the notifications start streaming in. I start with the least taxing email to read: 11/23 food truck. I end up reading it three times without absorbing anything. I rake my hand through my windswept, knotty hair and wince. 

There's nothing fabulous about going to work damp and sticky.

Jacket. 

I want to be in his jacket. Warm and not caring about anything.

I stand up, my legs wobbly and weak. 

Coffee. 

I need coffee. I reach inside of my drawer for my rocket mug and hold it like a zombie. I'm deprived and it's still only 7:20. I got to give myself some credit. Not only did I get up today, but I did my make-up and put on one of my favorite dresses. 

I'm walking down the hall, just me and the coffee machine, until I realize the EM-2 poster is still taped above the set-up. I look around the intersection of cubicles as if I'd been busted. No one's here. 

Relax, Clara.

Relax…

I snap back to high alert when I hear footsteps against the carpet. I already know it's Aubrey. I can feel her presence. I’m starting to feel like this is a little game we play between predator and prey.

I open the coffee machine and grab a coffee pod. 

"Good morning, Clara."

"Hey there, Aubrey."

She looks at the coffee machine while it lights up and whirls. Steam pours from the nozzle as it wheezes into my rocket mug. 

"I'm excited for later today, aren't you?"

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"The interview with Rex Grayson. Gosh, Clara. Step up your game." Aubrey tilts her head and laughs. 

I can’t believe someone like her actually exists, but I suppose an Aubrey might exist in every workplace. I feel my heart drop to the floor.

“That's right." I lie about remembering all along. “I guess now that they're making the astronaut announcement at 10, it's going to get busy.” 

“Uh. Hello! Busy is gonna be an understatement, girl.”

I don't know why, but I actually take the time to stare at Aubrey. She actually looks perfect today. Her long, red hair is luscious and smooth. She took the time to blend her eye shadow and dust on some blush. 

What am I so worried about?

I hear heavier footsteps approaching us. When I see Jim's face from around the corner, everything inside of me freezes.

“Good luck.” Aubrey says before she takes off, back to her desk.

Good luck?

What the fuck does she mean, good luck?

“Good morning, Clara. Care to come into my office?” Jim is all talk, no play. There is absolutely nothing good about this. 

“Of course.” I mask my voice with pleasantries. I don't say anything else. Nothing that will break the illusion. Jim's office is full of awards and placards. His dual computer screens are already full of messages.

When I sit down, I hear the door shut behind me. 

The door is closed. Holy crap. I am sweating bullets.

“Have a good time on Friday?” Crap. He knows. He saw us dancing. Walking to my car… whatever sin I committed on Friday, I'm about to repent.

I nod my head.

“Oh, yes. It was a nice party. They did a really good job setting everything up.”
Jim comes around, leans on the side of his desk and sits.

“Some of the food they had there wasn't that good and gave me heart burn, but I can't complain.” He smiles. “A lot of idiots drinking too much. Had to get a few cabs called.”

I nod agreeably again. I can't tell if all of this is just small talk, or if he's leading up to something horrible.

“Yeah. I'm not that big of a drinker.”

Jim folds his arms.

“Well, I had to call you in here because someone used the anonymous reporting forum that said ‘Clara Chase was with CMD Rex Grayson inappropriately.'"

I feel my heart drop from my chest. As soon as I hear these words, I feel my face turning another color, probably as red as a tomato. Someone caught me with Rex. Someone wanted to bring me down. But, what did they see? 

"What I have to do now is tell you this happened and remind you to read and memorize the company's rules..."

I barely listen to what Jim is saying. He clears his throat, catching my attention again.

“I didn't see anything happen at the party. I saw you at the bar having a drink with Aubrey for most of the evening, then I didn't see you for the rest of the night, so you probably left. And as far as I know, all of the astronauts came and left together, so I see no foul play other than someone may have been upset and felt the need to send this message.”

My heart still feels like it's being squeezed, but I'm eternally thankful for my bosses benefit of the doubt. 

“That's really unfortunate." I pick my words carefully. "I did sit with Aubrey at the bar for most of the night before leaving, but I'll be sure to re-read the company rules, just in case." 

Another lie.

“Good.” Jim nods his head. “I hear the guys downstairs are editing the segment from Friday. Should be on the air by next week. You were picked for the job, Clara, that's for sure. I saw some of it. Good stuff."

I stand up without my legs folding from underneath of me.

“I hope so.” I give a weak smile and run a hand over my dress. 

“I've heard that Commander Grayson can be difficult to work with. Did he give you any problems the first interview?”

My mouth opens and closes. I shake my head and purse my lips. 

“No. Nothing at all.”

“Good.”

“It was good." I smile. "I'm going to go check my emails now.”

“Sounds good. Have a good day, now.” Jim slides off his desk.

Me and my rocket mug are outta here. I carefully balance my rocket fuel back to my retreat. When I open the door to his office and step out, I feel like I've climbed out of a washer machine. My brain is scrambled. I carefully balance my rocket fuel back to my retreat. 

My desk is hardly a retreat, but being away from Aubrey and my boss makes it feel like one. I force myself to sit down and I feel how weak my knees are. I close out the email and open my pocket calendar. 

For fuck's sake, all we did was dance. It wasn't even my fault. But, today, it is my fault. 

Everything. 

This stupid little crush will cause me everything. 

Today is not a good day to have an interview with Rex Grayson. I squint at my email. I'm on the recipient list, CC'd with Rex, my boss, Steve and Darius.

I'm barely thinking about the details. I'm more terrified and sweaty now, thinking about what someone could have possibly seen on Friday night? Were they making something up out of jealousy? 

The question makes my body wilt in my chair.

I can't do this anymore. I want to scream. I sit here and do nothing, just letting coffee steam hit me in the face. As of right now, I can't stand this office and it's horrible lighting. Thunder rattles the building, threatening my interview with Rex. I take the first sip of coffee and feel some sense of normalcy come back.

I have roughly 2 hours to pull myself together, but that’s a long shot now. My stomachs in a giant knot and I feel completely disconnected. Whatever is going on, I have a horrible feeling. 

If its Aubrey Bell I’m dealing with, she’s definitely got something up her sleeve. A bad side of me wants the interview to be cancelled. 

Just let it rain. 

I distract myself into constructing a possible future schedule for the NASA channel. Whenever there isn't live coverage of anything significant happening with the crew, other shows need to fill time slots. We post different proposals on our Microsoft Teams Meeting spot, then our love child project is either approved or denied.

Old stories, like the Orion test flight coverage from 2014, usually airs at odd hours in the morning. Since it's related to the moon mission, it stays on the schedule.

Aubrey has pitched a new show called “Mission Control of Today”, and I know the only reason why she's doing this is because there's a cute guy in the Launch Control Center who she crushes on. 

I pitch a 30 minute segment about astronauts Emilia and Sarah called “First Women on the Moon”, and another show, “Earth from the Moon”, which will show photographs taken of Earth during the Apollo era.

I work on my ideas like nothing else exists and before I know it, my clock says 10:10 AM. It's like I come out of a stasis. I've pitched 5 different show ideas with solid explanations. The more ideas I create, the less suspicious I'll be. 

At least for today, I've one upped my #1 nemesis, who has only pitched one show so far. 

I can't let Aubrey Bell know that she's winning this. 

It doesn’t matter if I’ve brushed my hair and re-applied my tinted chapstick. I still feel like garbage. Aubrey Bell is already waiting by the elevators, bright-eyed and bushy tailed. She’s wearing her larger than life hobo bag around her shoulder, proudly showing off the NASA logo. She's a natural born cheerleader. It's amazing that her and Rex didn't get paired as wonder twins.

“Are ya ready?” She asks.

I try not to let myself sink lower. How could she be so cheerful? She's my prime suspect for sending that anonymous message about me and Rex Grayson. I wish she would just confront me about it like an adult. 


“Yeah. Great.” I try to sound enthusiastic. “Hopefully, it won't pour on us."

The elevator door opens and we go inside. The world’s least likely women from Public Affairs to work together, are now shoulder to shoulder. 

Aubrey stares at her phone until the doors open again. I try not to look at her, because if I do, I know my temper will start to boil. So, I don't. We come out, our heels clicking against the floor, catching the attention of the camera crew. Steve is sitting by the phone charging station, looking hot already. He takes off his baseball cap and wipes his forehead with his arm.

“Well, if it isn’t Miss Chase and Bell.”

Darius is chewing on a wad of gum. “Ain’t any better gals to work for.”

“Awww!” Aubrey coos. “You guys.”

I immediately can tell the difference between Aubrey and I. While I just smile in response, Aubrey is verbal. She’s bigger. She’s better. Flashier, easier to please, easy on the eyes. 

My brain can only think in one word commands: Walk. Go outside. 

We go outside, the white van waiting for us with the doors open. A wall of gray clouds stares us down ominously from the west. We climb in, Steve glancing at me before he closes the side door for us. 

Did Steve just… was he just staring at my legs? 

Aubrey sees this and lifts a brow towards me. When Steve is busy getting into the front seat, she elbows me. I force myself to smile. Anything to acknowledge her and get her to stop. 

The radio comes on, saxophones and Jimmy Buffett blaring. Steve lowers the music, but leaves it on for the ride. The particular harbor we're driving to is launch pad 39B. 

Aubrey taps me again. I turn around to see her slide her phone against the seat. I look down to see a message she's typed out for me to read.

“I'm excited :)”

I don't know why, but I give her a thumbs up. This is going to be a painful drive. I feel myself against the seat, stiff as a board. I turn my head to look out the window and at the palm trees, anywhere in the complete opposite direction of Aubrey. I have no idea how we could be so cordial face-to-face.

When we get close to the launch pad, steel drums on the radio start ringing over the voice of the security woman who leans into the van. Darius lowers the music. We all unclip our badges and hand them to her. When we're waved forward, I feel my heart picking up. The van goes up a steep incline. All we can see is blue sky and the lightning towers that surround the launch pad. 

Aubrey plays with her hair, twirling, flattening, perfecting it, even though it's a humid jungle outside. The van levels out and we might as well be on the biggest man made mountain in Florida. The doors roll open and I deepen my breath. 

The ocean breeze tastes good. 

The view from launchpad 39A is the only good thing about today. Not far off, the beach is a thin strip that stretches on for miles. The ocean looks like a wide ribbon decorated with fishing trawlers and sailboats. When the rain clears up, Florida comes out to play.

Steve and Darius are moving equipment from the back of the van like clockwork. There's no sign of astronauts. Just sweaty construction workers wearing hard hats and high visibility vests. Steve backs away from us, holding a tripod in his hand while he stares up at the launch towers, then back down to us.

“Aubs, you're gonna interview Sarah today, right?"

“Yeah!” 

Darius sticks out his hands to make a frame. He squints through his make believe camera view.

"I think you guys should go more in the middle.”

“Really?” Aubrey spins around, giggling. 

Yes, it makes sense that she likes this. Aubrey loves being the center of attention. 

As we creep towards what feels like the top of the world, I'm thankful I'm at least wearing boyshort panties underneath my dress. Steve stares at us for a while, then hurries over with tripod in hand.

“Yeah, this looks great. Hey, hey, Darius.”

“What, my man?” Darius comes over with a gimbal rig.

“Let's shoot with a wide angle lens for the intro. It'll look badass.”

Darius gives a raspy laugh. “You got the eye. Whatever you say, boss."

A car pops up from the hill and I freeze. It's Rex. 

Aubrey claps her hands together when the car doors open and she sees two people in flight suits. Sarah's blonde hair is tied in a bun so that the breeze doesn't get in the way. She waves when she sees Aubrey. 

Aubrey and Sarah throw their arms around each other like good friends. Her long, red hair whips in the breeze. My shorter hair just gets caught in my mouth.

Rex looks at me behind his aviator sunglasses. All of the feelings that I've kept behind a dam wall feel like they're going to burst. I can't. I have to keep myself together.

So, what do I do?

I hold out my hand.

“It's good to see you again, Commander.” I want to kick myself. That was totally unsexy. All business, no play. 

“And you as well, Clara.” 

The way he says my name… I could listen to him say it one hundred more times. 

Rex clears his throat and takes my hand from a distance. When I touch him, Friday night becomes real again. I let out a deep breath. I want to tell him everything. About the anonymous message. About how his jacket saves my sanity. I want to ask him if I can call him.

 I can't let these memories get in the way of the now. When he looks at me, I can tell he recognizes a change. It hurts me that I can't tell him why. 

Darius comes over to shake hands with the astronauts.

“We're gonna try to make this quick again. It's gonna come down like cats and dogs here in a minute." He holds out little microphones for us to clip on. 

Rex takes two, then reaches towards me to clip one on the collar of my dress. Why is he doing this to me?

“You helped me the first time.”

I laugh and look down.

“Still want to write?” He asks me cautiously.

“I've been thinking about it."

“Oh, yeah?”

He looks amused for a second, but it disappears. 

Sarah sips out of a reusable water bottle and puts her sunglasses on the top of her head. 

Steve and Darius have their serious faces pressed to the cameras. They walk in horizontal lines, then around us in circles. For a while, it's nothing but directing Rex and Sarah where to stand and how to pose. They introduce themselves on the launch pad, with the ocean scenery displayed behind them.

They pose Rex in the center while I him questions like:

“What does being so close to the launch date feel like?"

Astronauts have been known to complain about these types of abstract questions about feelings, but Rex handles it with finesse. He talks with his sunglasses tucked into his flight suit.

Aubrey is asking the same questions to Sarah on the other side. Steve and Darius go through the footage and put it together to make it high intensity, emotional, or inspirational. Aubrey and I are more or less communicators. 

We deliver the content. 

It's hard to keep Aubrey from wandering over. She oohs and ahhs over Steve's shoulder.

“That's a lovely shot of the handsome Commander.”

Her voice grates against my ears. 

“You flatter me, dear.” 

My heart sinks when I hear him use that little pet name. I don't understand this stupid little crush I have. 

Sarah folds her arms behind Aubrey. 

“You better watch yourself, Rex is a shark.”

Yeah, except Aubrey would love that. When thick drops of rain start falling from the sky, Steve pulls himself away from his camera. The warning system chimes in the distance. I can't help but to wonder, if Rex is a shark, am I just bait?

“Alright, storms comin'. Let's wrap it up. Mics everyone.”

Rex seems to be watching for something, then reaches forward to quickly clip the microphone off of my dress when no one is looking.

“The weather hasn't been all that sunny in Florida.” He notes.

Sarah hears him and laughs. 

“Wanted to work on your tan?” 

“I do have a wicked tan underneath this flight suit.” 

I'm pretty sure he's joking, but he only makes me 100% curious. 

“Florida is too hot for me. Maybe we're leaving for Texas just in time.” Sarah sighs rubs her neck.

“Maybe.” Rex looks down at the microphones in his hand. 

The rain lands against the hot pavement in splatters. Aubrey in the background is complaining about her hair, and I hear her running back to the van. 

We have about a few seconds. 

“Have a good weekend?” He asks me in a deep voice. 

“It was nicer than usual. I wonder why." I smile.

“Will you talk to me while I'm in Texas?” Rex keeps his voice low.

I look down.

“Can I call you tonight? There's something I want to tell you."

Rex looks serious.

“Yeah. Of course.”

It's too late for me to say anything else. Our chance to talk is over already. I didn't want to leave on this note, but we're too close to open ears. If I had to guess, Aubrey is probably too star-struck right now to make a fuss about the attention he's giving me. Then again, maybe it's all a front. Maybe she's just going to go right online later and rat me out over… something. Inappropriately… talking?

Clara and Rex standing on a launch pad. K-i-s-s-i-n-g.

“Keep dry, ladies.” Rex taps the side of the van door. He's back to his charismatic, nothing-bothers-him self.

Aubrey waves her fingers at him.

“He's dreamy.”

Steve slams the door shut on Rex.

“Yeah, yeah. It's just a job and a title.” He grunts.

Aubrey giggles.

“Don't be jealous, Steve. You're the best videographer. You know how to make Clara and me look good.”

Darius points his fingers.

“That's right, gals. Now, we need to beat feet before we get trapped in the monsoon.”

A monsoon. I wouldn't mind being swept away in the rain for a little while. The drive back is quiet, with Aubrey tapping away on her phone screen and the rain hitting the windshield. 

Steve and Darius drop us off in front of the breezeway. Aubrey runs outside first and doesn't wait for me. She clutches her bag and makes herself as small as possible, trying to dodge the rain. She nearly runs into someone in the doorway.

I shake my head and slowly climb out of the van.

“Thanks for everything, guys.”

Steve looks back at me through the rear view mirror.

“See you later, darlin'.”

I slide out of the van and close the door, letting the rain fall on me. I carefully let myself back into the building, wiping my heels on the mat before stepping onto the slippery floor. As usual, the air conditioning is freezing. Aubrey holds the elevator door open for me, which I regret. 

Inside of the elevator smells like Aubrey's abundance of perfume. When the doors close, I start to hear her talk.

“I got a funny feeling today.”

I check the time on my phone and dump it back into my bag.

“I'm starting to get a funny feeling about everything today.”

“Aww. Bad Monday, huh?” She looks up at me. 

I can't help but to feel like I'm looking down at a misunderstood little sister.

The doors open back to our office, back to my prison. I don't know when I started to come to work just to count down the hours. It wasn't always like this. I walk back to my desk without saying a word to Aubrey. We both go our separate ways. I'm left alone to deal with the rock in my stomach. My mind replays what little time I spent with Rex today, and how unkind that time was to us. 

 

─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───

 

3:45 PM.

 

“Can I call you?”

 

I put in Rex's number as the contact Spaceman and type out that message. I let it sit for over an hour before I actually send it. I feel like I'm a free woman when the deed is done. 

I balance an umbrella, my lunch box, and my tote bag, out of our air conditioned building and back into the Florida wilderness. The sun is coming back out, full blast, making everything stale and harder to breathe. Everyone comes out of the front doors, a little tired, a little bit more indifferent than they were in the morning.

I'm not any better myself. I feel like I'm carrying a bag of bricks as I weave through parking spaces, my heels clicking as I avoid the deepest pot hole puddles. I shift my umbrella handle from one wrist to another and dig in for my keys. My Hyundai unlocks and everything gets dumped onto the passengers side.

The engine turns on and NPR comes on. I turn the radio down and fold out my phone. 

About now, Mom is probably getting ready to cook dinner for her husband. I dial her number and sync my phone to the radio, the dial tones going on as I pull out of the space. I feel myself calm down when the other end of the line picks up. Mom's voice fills my car all the way from Orlando.

“Hey, baby. What's up?”

“Oh… not much.” I feel my lips tug into a smile. “Just thought I'd give you a call after work.”

“Yeah?” I hear my Mom pause to take a drag of a cigarette. “Are you doing alright? Do you need anything?”

“No.” I pause. “Just wanted to say hi.” 

My car pulls up to the light that leads us onto Kennedy Parkway.

“Hi, baby girl. How's work?”

"It's going. I met this guy… and he's really nice."

Mom coughs.

“Well, that's great, Clara.” She encourages  me. “Is he some engineer?"

I rolled my eyes and gripped my steering wheel. The light turns green and the line of cars starts zipping through the intersection. I step on the gas pedal.

“I don't know." I dodge the question. “We had this stupid party on Friday. Some moon banquet. I don't know. Him and I ended up talking. It was nice.” 

“Well, hook up with him.” She encourages.

I burst out laughing. “I can't. I'd lose my job.”

“Oh.” She replies. “It's a problem with work?” 

“…Yes.”

“Oh. Well, then. Can't you see him outside of work?"

“Not really. Maybe."

“Well, Clara, you gotta keep your job. If it's gonna get you in trouble, maybe you guys can work something out.”

“Yeah."

“If the guy likes you, you guys will figure something out.”

I shake my head and sigh. "I hear you…I'm… gonna go. I'm not home yet. I'm still driving.”

“Alright, baby. Drive home safe. Text me. Nail these interviews at work. When can I watch some of them?"

I'll try not to nail Rex in the process either. 

“I think by next week. I'll let you know when they're on."

“Alright, baby girl. Call me if you need me.”

“Will do, love you.”

I turn onto NASA parkway.

“Love you, too. Bye.”

Her voice ends.

I feel sour and rotten. Who cares about me so much that they feel a need to ruin my life? Someone wanted me to suffer like this. Someone wanted my heart to break. It's funny how a crush could dominate my entire day.  

I know I'm not going to learn a damn thing, because when I go home, I'm going to rush into my bedroom to strip and slip into the confines of where I know it's safe.

I glance down at my phone to see a new message.

Spaceman. 

“Call me whenever.”

 

─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───

 

“Clara?”

I love it when Rex says my name.

“Sorry. Hold on. I'm getting inside.” 

The front door groans open and I bang my knee against it fighting inside. My cats are a whirlwind of boredom and hunger, their tails swishing around my legs while they cry. My lunch bag and umbrella falls to the floor. 

“Okay. Sorry.” I breathe.

“It's fine. Is something wrong?”

“Something wrong?” I repeat. “No. Well, that depends. I have something to tell you. I think someone at work might be jealous. My boss pulled me into his office this morning.”

Rex patiently listens.

“He told me that someone reported me as being with you… inappropriately.” 

“Interesting."

“I told you, Friday night…”

“That dancing is off limits?” Rex asks.

“Yeah.”

“Is it off limits to tell you that I think you looked beautiful today?”

I'm wandering into my bedroom, lost, when he says these words to me. An unstoppable smile spreads across my face. I can't even remember what I'm in the bedroom for. 

“…No." I answer carefully. “I did?”

“Of course. And, on Friday night. I couldn't stop looking at you.”

My face is burning. 

I collapse onto my bed and my free hand pulls at his jacket. I rest my head against the fabric. 

“This is bad.” I tell him. “I'm supposed to be professional. We have all of these interviews, calls and shows.”

“So?” Rex says. “I'm an astronaut. I still have a life. Kind of.” He laughs. “It's kind of crazy. The world just found out the next people going to the moon. I'm still hiding. The girls keep telling me to flex it.”

“Flex it?”

“Yeah, like my muscles. On TV.”

I laugh. “Wow. Well, as much as I'd love to see that, try not to do anything too unprofessional in Texas. I won't be able to help you over there.”

“Unfortunately." He adds. “I have to get going, but, will you text me?”

“Oh. Yeah, I will.”

“I'll talk to you later, then.”

“Alright. Take it easy, spaceman."

I don't hear what he says next. There's a few other voices and wind garbling the background, then he hangs up. My cat Stella jumps on the bed, her ears tilted back.

Angry.

She wants the wet fud

“Okay, okay.” I roll off the bed and she follows me, Cosmo not far behind.

 

 

 

 

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Confession 4: The Obsession

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Confession 5: The Gala

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Confession 6: The Ferris Wheel Incident

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Confession 7: The Quarantine

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Confession 8: The Launch

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Confession 9: The Moon Man

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Confession 10: The Spacewalk

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Confession 11: The Termination

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Confession 12: The Splashdown

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Confession 13: The Sickness

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Confession 14: The Write Way

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~

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