Chapter 2

Reid pulled the crinkled, yellow note from his drawer, set it on his desk and regarded it. "Did you call her?"

"No, Brad," Reid replied.

"Are you gonna call her?"

"I dunno..."

"Why the hell wouldn't you?"

"Because -- what if she shoots me down?"

"Not likely, Reid. Monica wants your body."

"You don't know that. I mean -- you were right. I DID treat her like a piece of shit."

"Both Lauren and I are convinced you and Monica are perfect for each other. We're talking fucking perfect, Reid. I want you to pick up that phone and call her. And I want you to do it NOW."

Reid picked up the phone and set it down again.

"Look," Brad said as he stepped around Reid's desk to face him. "I see three possible outcomes. One -- you call and get shot down. Least likely outcome, but if it happens -- you forget her and get on with life. Two -- you call her and get laid. Most likely outcome."

"What's number three?" Reid asked.

"Number three is you don't call ... and I kick your ass all the way to State so you can talk to her in person. Now pick up the fucking phone."

Reid picked up the phone and started pressing buttons. He looked up a his suitemate. "May I have a little privacy, please?"

"Okay but I'm getting a full post- call report."

Brad disappeared into the adjoining bathroom and closed the door behind him. Reid dialed the number and heard it ringing.

"Hello?"

"Monica? It's Reid..."

"Reid ... Hi..."

"Hi..."

"Did you get your report done?"

"Yeah ... it's done. I turned it in the other day. Haven't got it back yet..."

"How did it turn out?"

"Good ... good I think. I'm happy with it."

"That's good..."

Reid chewed his lip for a few moments. "Monica..."

"Reid..." she said simultaneously.

"You go first," he said.

"No -- you."

"I ... I wanted to apologize for how I treated you last weekend," he stammered.

"Oh, I don't think you treated me poorly," she replied. "You offered me a place to sleep ... something to wear ... you made sure I had all my necessaries..."

"Yeah, but..."

"And, you bought me breakfast. I don't think I thanked you properly for that. I should be apologizing to you..."

"But in the lounge -- I ... I realize I was pretty rude to you."

"You had your paper to work on. I shouldn't have been interrupting you. I was the one who was out of line, Reid. I mean ... at the time I was put out that you weren't paying attention to me ... but you really were under no obligation to do so and I was the one interfering with your work. I said things to you I had no place saying..."

"You didn't' say anything that wasn't true," he interrupted.

"Still ... I realized it later and felt really badly ... That's why I hoped you'd call -- so I could apologize to you."

"How ... how about ... I accept your apology and you accept mine?"

"Okay, Reid. That sounds fair."

"So, now we're even."

"Yeah," she agreed. "We're even."

"Good ... I'm glad we got that straightened out..."

He chewed his lip again and realized he was getting warm under his arms.

"Reid?" she said.

"What?"

"Is there anything else?"

"Oh ... Well, Monica ... I ... I have been thinking about you."

"I've been thinking about you, too," she replied.

"I mean ... I've been thinking about you a lot."

"Me, too."

"I mean..."

"Reid ... Don't you think when two people think about each other ... a lot ... it means it might be nice if they spent some time together?"

"Oh, yeah ... Monica -- are ... are you doing anything Friday night?"

"No..."

"Would you like to..."

"I'd love to, Reid."

"I mean ... I don't know what there is to do Friday..."

"I'm sure we'll think of something," she replied. "What time?"

"Umm ... How about six? Does that work for you?"

"Six is fine. Why don't we meet at the bus stop at the corner of Fitch and Racquette?"

"Or, I could come over there," he suggested.

"I love the Tech campus," she replied. "It's a real campus -- not like State -- a bunch of buildings in the middle of town. It's so pretty in the winter."

"Okay -- I'll wait for you at the bus stop at six."

"I can't wait, Reid. I really can't wait."

"See you then, Monica. G'bye..."

"Good bye, Reid."

He set down the phone. Brad burst into he room. "Well? Well? Well?"

"We have a date this Friday at six."

Brad lifted both fists into the air. "SCORE!" He slapped Reid on the back. "I told you she was hot for you. I told you. Let me give you some pointers..."

"Brad -- I have been on dates in my life. I don't need any pointers."

"I have yet to see you bring one real, living female into this room."

"I'm considering this a first date. I don't even expect a kiss on a first date."

Brad shook his head. "She wants you, man. I can tell she wants you."

"First date," Reid reiterated. "No expectations ... no pressure."

Reid trod back and forth under the streetlamp. A light snow was falling. He saw the bus approach and Monica stepped to the street. "Hi, Reid," she said.

"Hi..."

"I'm really glad you called."

"Were you surprised?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I figured it was fifty-fifty."

"Have you had dinner yet?"

"Yeah. You?"

"Yeah ... Would you like dessert or coffee or anything?"

She shook her head. "I'm good."

"What would you like to do?"

"I dunno ... how about going to your lounge. I have some new music to play for you."

"Okay..."

Together they trudged up the hill to his dorm. He scanned his ID to open the door and escorted her inside. They walked toward the lounge on the first floor.

A few students were reading and studying. Reid took Monica's coat and scarf and regarded her -- she was wearing a white turtleneck under a knitted vest sweater, and jeans. She sat at the piano. "I'll play softly," she said. "It is after all a PIANOforte..." She lifted the lid, and warmed up with some scales and arpeggios.

"You have pretty hands," Reid observed.

"Do you think so?"

"Yes. Your fingers are so long and slender ... very elegant ... and the blue veins on the backs tracing those Y- shapes. I think a woman's hand can be sexy."

"I see ... I guess that makes me one and one."

"One and one?"

"I remember you saying Lauren isn't your type and I asked you what your type was. You said you didn't have a type. Well -- EVERYBODY has a type, so I've been trying to figure out what your type is. So far I know you like a girl with elegant hands, who doesn't play the piano. That makes me one and one."

"I never said I didn't like the piano," Reid protested. "I said I didn't like most of the music for piano."

"Listen to this..." She began playing.

"Monica -- what is that?"

"It's a Kyrie -- ninth century."

"It sounds beautiful!"

"It sounds awful." She stopped playing. "Do you remember saying that no one plays medieval on piano?"

"Yeah..."

"The reason is, it sounds terrible on piano. It's because of the tempering."

"Tempering?"

"Medieval music was written to be played on diatonic instruments," she explained. "A piano has a tempered chromatic scale."

"Diatonic? Tempered chromatic? What's the difference?"

"A tempered scale has the middle notes flattened a bit -- to permit modulating between keys. Medieval music wasn't written in a key but in a mode ... Bach wrote The Well-Tempered Clavier to demonstrate key-to-key modulation -- which can only be done with a tempered scale. It all has to do with music theory."

"Music theory?"

"Music is mathematical," she replied. "You should come with me to the synthesizer lab -- I've been working with one that I programmed to switch between tempered and diatonic tuning. I can play the same piece in either scale. The medieval stuff sounds great in diatonic mode but sucks in tempered ... and Bach is the exact opposite." She gave him a big grin. "This is my finals project for music theory, and it's thanks to you."

"To me?"

"Yes -- your remark that no one plays medieval on the piano made me ask, why? I had been at a loss to come up with a project for that class. I spoke to my prof and she thought the idea was brilliant!"

"Monica -- You play beautifully ... and I think it's great you're so smart. I'd say that makes you three and zero."

"Three?"

"Yeah -- intelligence. I like smart girls. I think it's really sexy."