But still, this wasacademia, this was aworkplace, and they werestudents.
“Yes!” I rooted around my desk, mentally cursing my ability to explode all over the place in less than eight hours. Pens, scrunchies, the occasional snack, all over my desk and very much the antithesis of what a good scientist was supposed to be.
“Here!” I said, handing her the file.
She took the envelope and tapped it in the air slightly as if to say,Thanks.Then, with a slight smirk, she left, a group of dazed students following after.
I wished I could disappear into a black hole. Spaghettification would still be better thanthis.
Eames and Olly came into the room just as Jenna left, the delicious smell of Thai following them.
“Did I hearcumslut?” Olly asked, handing me a bowl of pad thai.
I groaned in response, opening the plastic container. A little bit of condensation flicked onto my cheek.
Eames spun around in his chair like a little kid. “I don’t think I’m familiar with that branch of cosmology.”
I stabbed my chopsticks into the noodles. “Why didn’t you say something?”
Olly threw her hands up in surrender. “We only caught the tail end.”
Eames shoved a forkful of noodles into his mouth, speaking through his chewing. “You’re such a CNC slut.”
I made a face at Eames even though consensual non-consentdidmake a lot of appearances in my reading.
“It helps me focus,” I said, voice high with defense. He shoved me in ajust jokinggesture.
After lunch, I went back to work, sans dirty cowboy, until the sun fell low beneath the mountains, bathing our office in brilliant orange. I was looking for a stopping place when my phone vibrated with a notification. And then another. And another.
After I’d made my profile, I’d received more interest than I’d expected—or could sort. Every few moments, a new person sent a match request. It was overwhelming. So I’d started ignoring them.
Eames arched a brow just as another vibration sounded. “What’s going on over there?”
I looked at the message that appeared on my screen.
Do you do hair or nails?
I frowned before it clicked. He thoughtcosmologistmeantcosmetologist.
“Just…” I set my phone down. “My mom.”
I knew the moment they heard I was getting matches, it would be a whole thing, and I still wasn’t sure Iwantedit to be a thing. Justmakingthe profile had been stressful enough.
A few minutes later, I followed Eames and Olly out, sliding into the back seat of Olly’s old Subaru.
The lights were off when I got home, which meant Lithie was spending the night at the prison. The only light came from our novelty cartoon pickle night-light. It cast an almost pearlescent glow that illumined the kitchen in soft green shadow.
I kicked off my shoes in the entryway and set my bag down just as Lithie’s cat, Stroop, jumped from his perch atop the bookshelf with a meow.
Feed me, human.
“I know you’ve been fed,” I said.
Another meow, this one more petulant.
“Don’t tell your mother,” I said, reaching for his treats and pouring a few into his bowl. “You’re supposed to be on a diet.”
My job done, he ignored me.
