Peter pointed a finger at him. “Now that you got right. See, if it were an experiment, it would be quantifiable. You put two things in, you get one out.

Keep the surrounding elements the same. Same heat, same oxygen. The same result every time, no matter how many times you repeat it.”

Lucius chuckled. “We're talking about love here, Peter. It's not some

repeatable experiment. The surrounding elements change. The heat changes. You

don't just drop sodium in water and watch it go bang.”

“I know that. But it would be a lot easier if you could.”

“Yeah, but it wouldn't be nearly as much fun. Or real.” He took a sip of his

punch.

“You're a giver, Peter. That's what love does. It gives. You gave to your dad,

and your mom.”

“I didn't have a choice. He was my dad. My mom needed me.”

Lucius shook his head, a gentle smile arcing his gray mustache. “Not just your parents. Most people would do that. Giving is your career.”

Peter's look must have looked like a question because Lucius continued.

“You're a teacher. You give every day. Your time, your knowledge. To your students. Not only that, you want to give where it's needed. That's why you didn't like Dixon. They don't need you there. But Golden Grove does. And the weird

thing about giving is, you think you're losing something, but you're really gaining something better.”

Peter was silent. He understood what Lucius was saying, but he wasn't in the

mood for deep thinking right now. “And your reason for this conversation is?”

Lucius shrugged. “You stayed here because of love, once. Maybe now you

should leave because of it.”

He stated it matter-of-factly, but it hit Peter like a weight in his chest. Is that what this was? Love? “Aren't you putting the cart way before the horse?”

Lucius paused. “You know, the older I get, the more I think just cutting to the chase is the way to go. We dance around the issue, we think, we talk, we rehash, we wring our hands, we reconsider, we talk again, and then we go ahead

and do what we knew we were eventually going to do anyway, except now it's

six months later and we have acid reflux and a migraine.”

You got the migraine part right, Peter thought. He must be getting old. Was thirty old? The thump of the bass was giving him a headache.

“Maybe all I'm saying is, don't regret missing out on something just because

you're afraid or you think you're not worthy or something else equally stupid.”

He paused. “Don't find yourself twenty or thirty years down the road wondering

what if.”

Peter looked at his friend. There was something in his eyes he hadn't seen before. Regret? “It's not really up to me, now, is it?” He gestured with his cup.

“She's there, I'm here.”

Lucius shrugged. “Distance can be a problem. But some distances are

measured less in miles than in attitude.”

“Geez, Lucius, I know you mean well, but I can't really handle any more latent hippie platitudes tonight.”

“Sorry. I'm running out of material again.”

The DJ was thumping out another eighties song. This one he recognized.

“Don't Do Your Love,” by White…something. Tiger? Buffalo? Elephant? He

couldn't remember. It was the same one that had been playing that night. With Kate. The chorus blared.

“What does that even mean, 'don't do your love'?” he muttered.

“No idea. I'm more of a Zeppelin guy myself.”

Peter knew his friend was trying his best to provide moral support—Peter was supposed to be here with Kate. Tonight was supposed to be some kind of fantastic, romantic make-up-for-lost-time scene, with him and Kate whirling under the disco ball in the spotlight dance they never got in high school.

He had a sudden picture of her in leg warmers and poofy eighties hair. He wondered if he would have tripped over his own feet. He wondered why they weren't out there dancing to “Don't Do Your Love.” He wondered if he'd made a

huge mistake.

He'd let Kate go her way once, in high school. He thought it was for the best.

Even though he'd never meant to, he'd hurt her. They were young. They'd heal,

they'd move on.

But here he was, twelve years later, still alone, still acting as if he were waiting for time to reverse itself, to bring back that young love for another chance. And she had come back, and he had fallen in love with her again, and what was he doing about it?

“Tell me another story, Lucius.”

His friend looked at him, then away. Then he said, “There once was a boy

named Peter, who was very nice and very smart. All of the girls in Chem 2 loved

him because he was such a hottie.”