CHAPTER 11 Stoichiometry: Calculations with Chemical Formulas and Equations

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Martin didn't pee on me. In fact, he didn't even look at me or talk to me for most of the day.

Like the day before, the guys were up early practicing, Sam and I assumed our spots on the beach, and they arrived in the early afternoon for food. I left as soon as Ben arrived. He made me feel uncomfortable and icky-and I knew that was on me. I should have been able to ignore him, but I couldn't. So I left.

I milled around the house,exploring, expecting Martin to show up. He didn't. I found the music room-yes, this compound of excess had its own music room,with signed gold records from rock and country music legends lining the walls, signed concert posters, and pictures of a tall, lanky,geeky looking dude alongside several notable musicians and celebrities.

I recognized the geeky dude in the photos as Martin's dad and noted they had the same thick hair and lips. They were likely the same height. But that's where the similarities seemed to end. After inspecting the pictures several times, testing out the baby grand piano -it needed to be tuned- and discovering three beautiful Gibson guitars along the wall, I went back to my room and read.

Then I did some chemistry homework.

Then I took a nap.

Then I woke up on a man.

I didn't realize it at first, because I suffered from post-nap confusion. When I did come to my senses I discovered I was half sprawled on a hard chest, and fingers were playing with my hair, brushing it back from my cheeks and neck, gathering it, twisting it, tugging it lightly.

I stiffened, shot upward, lifted my fists to defend my honor, and found Martin laying on the bed, his hands up like he surrendered.

"Whoa!" His eyes were huge and he gave me a startled smile. "Do you always jump up like that after sleeping?"

"Like what? A badass?" My voice was gravelly, still laced with sleep.

"Yeah, like a badass."

I huffed, let my fists fall to my lap. "No. Only when I find Martin Sandeke on my bed."

"Good to know." His lips twisted to the side and his eyes swept up and down my form. "I'll make sure to wear protection when I'm in your bed."

"You should probably wear it even when we're not in bed."

"I always use protection."He lifted an eyebrow meaningfully.

Pause.

Blink.

Oh...I get it.

Amazingly I didn't blush.I just gave him a half-lidded I'm not impressed glare which made him burst out laughing.

"You are such a guy." I gave him a reluctant smile.

"What do you know about guys?" He repositioned himself on the bed, scootching up and placing his hands behind his back against the pillows.

"Admittedly, not much. My dad isn't much of a guy."

"What's your dad like?"Martin sounded interested, his face suddenly sober.

"Well, let's see. He's a scientist. He's always losing things. His socks never match. He loves baseball, but he can't play it very well. He tried to get me to play softball. I'd always sneak my Gameboy in my practice bag then hide behind the bleachers and play Dr. Mario instead."

"So he pushed you a lot?"

"No. Not at all. I think he wanted me to do it because he likes cheering for me...to be honest. He's always the one taking pictures, at events, ceremonies,that kind of thing. He's hardly ever in the pictures. I looked back at my high school graduation photos and realized he'd taken over a thousand, but he wasn't in any of them. So I dressed back up in my cap and gown, did my hair the same, and-with George's help- arranged to have a photographer come to the house so we could get some good shots."

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