The Science of Paper Airplanes

"New wheels?" I said as I bent to inspect the shiny new moped.

Tadashi stood by, glowing with pride. "Yeah, I've been saving up for this for some time, but Aunt Cass compensated for what I still needed as a graduation present."

I let out a low whistle. "She's a beauty."

He laughed and remarked, "You only say so because you don't own a car."

I shuddered as I looked around the Hamadas' garage and my eyes fell on the beat-up old sage-green pickup truck that Cass preferred to drive around. "And I don't plan to. Have you seen the potholes in San Fransokyo?" I said. Tadashi pursed his lips, then gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. "These streets are nightmares; as soon as you pull out of the driveway, your suspension is already ruined."

He grinned. "So you're just going to fly throughout the port?" he asked knowingly.

"Aviation is the future," I said, clasping a hand over my heart.

Tadashi chuckled. "I'll ask you in a few years to fly me to the east coast yourself," he promised.

At his words, I felt a dull throbbing within my chest, and my throat began to tighten. Despite the fact that we'd see each other constantly, whether around campus or the Lucky Cat Café, graduation had an air of finality that I wasn't a big fan of. I dropped my hands to my sides and twiddled my thumbs.

Tadashi noticed my discomfort immediately. He rubbed his neck and leaned back against his moped. "You okay?" he asked after a moment.

I didn't know how to answer him; I couldn't even bring myself to meet his eyes, choosing instead to stare down at my feet. His gaze bore holes into my forehead. "It's just..." I trailed off and scowled at nothing in particular. "I'll miss you."

It wasn't necessary for me to look up to know that there was a smile on his face. "I'll miss you too, knucklehead," he said affectionately. "We're still going to hang out a lot, though, aren't we?"

"It won't be the same," I sighed. It had been easier to say goodbye to my physics teacher.

Tadashi leaned forward to grab both of my hands in his. "Look at me," he said soothingly. I lifted my head, and he was watching me from beneath the brim of his hat in a way that made me go weak in the knees. "Maybe I can't be there to do all your assignments for you" -- I gently kicked his shin -- "but that doesn't mean I won't still be there when you need me, Nova."

I gave him a halfhearted smile, afraid that he could tell from my shaking fingers or the look on my face that my heart was beating harder with every word. "Can you believe we met almost a year ago to the day?" I asked, trying to relieve some tension.

He closed his eyes and smiled. "Seems like it's only been a week since you started teaching me how to fly paper planes."

"Can't say you've gotten much better, but you've had your moments," I agreed.

We gradually fell into an amicable silence, and I couldn't decide if it was the lack of ventilation within the garage, or the way he was still holding my hands, but I was beginning to hope for something more to happen. A million thoughts surged through my mind, all connected to the boy who stood at least four inches taller than me.

I kept averting my eyes from his, desperately searching for something to distract me before I forgot how to breathe. He frowned and stopped lacing his fingers through mine.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I lied. "You know how I get when nobody's talking." I allowed myself one look, if just to reassure him.

Tadashi appeared disgruntled. "Nova, you always change the topic if nobody's talking," he said, seeing through my blatant attempt at avoiding the point. "So what's the matter?"

I wondered if the brim of his cap would hit me if our faces were closer together. I was fighting a losing battle with myself; instead of trying to overcome my hormones with ideas of making a larger paper airplane more balanced, I defeatedly decided to embrace them.

I leaned over and kissed his cheek as an answer to the question he'd posed. It was warmer and softer than I'd imagined, and soon enough it was flooded with pink to boot. I could almost hear the gears turning in his head as I pulled back, but time was moving more slowly than I could handle. My mind, previously riddled with nothing but Tadashi, went blank.

I barely registered what I'd just done when his arm snaked around my waist, and all of a sudden, I was kissing Tadashi Hamada in the middle of his garage.

As far as first kisses go, it wasn't the best by any means -- his lips were chapped, he didn't seem to know where to put his nose, and he apparently had a penchant for running his hand through my hair. His cap, thankfully, did not smash into my forehead, so I internally praised the San Fransokyo Ninjas for their merchandise having mercy.

But it was still Tadashi and he was still kissing me.

Maybe it was the sweet awkwardness of the kiss that made it easier to play off the blush that was creeping into my cheeks as I pulled away. "Have you ever even kissed a girl before?" I asked.

Tadashi cleared his throat, as taken aback as I was at the events that had transpired. He regained his composure quickly, only to plaster on a highly affronted expression. "Of course."

"Grade school doesn't count."

"Then no," he said sadly. I gave him a lopsided grin that he returned. "That was..." He didn't seem to have the words.

"Yeah," I concurred. "Really nice." Nice didn't seem to do it justice, despite the initial awkwardness. He agreed, however, and tugged me into a hug.

"I was kinda hoping it would happen at prom," he mumbled into my shoulder. "But then we started talking, and it didn't seem like the right time."

I held him a little closer, blissfully unaware to old Mr. Yamamoto from the electronics shop barging in blindly and demanding cheesecake. All I could comprehend was how Tadashi always smelled of vanilla. "I think this was perfect."