I was about to tell her no, that I wouldn’t go on any other dates. Then I paused. That could be a great way to mess with him.
“Maybe,” I said.
“Maybe?” Eames gasped like an Old Hollywood starlet. “This can’t be how your Rumspringa into thottage ends. You’re supposed to, you know, be a thot for a little?—”
“Am I interrupting?” Jenna asked.
All three of us turned to find our boss. She leaned in the doorway, one arm propped.
“No, of course not,” I said.
Eames hopped off my desk as Jenna came into the room.
“The paper we submitted to IAS was given an oral slot,” she said.
The annual IAS—or International Astronomy Society—conference was held every year in a different location, usually outside of the US. It was long running, rotating, and invitation heavy. This year, it would be in California.
An oral slot meant that the paper we’d submitted was given a talk.
Which was great, but also not something I needed to know.
“Do I need to update models?” I asked, not sure why she was telling me this. It was great they wanted her to present, but it didn’t have anything to do with me.
“I’d like you to present.” At what must have been utter confusion on my face, she continued. “You can easily present this. You did most of the modeling, Shay.” She unfolded her arms. “This is much closer to your field than mine.”
Itwascloser to my area. But still. “It’s only a week away.”
“I know it’s late notice, but the university will of course cover everything.”
“We can share a room!” Olly said.
I wasn’t particularly fond of large gatherings of academics. I lovedscience.When I was young, I fell in love with the scientific method, the nobility of it. The idea that we had to try to prove ourselves wrong first if we wanted to be right. Before I became one, I viewed scientists as this paragon of humanity, apart from the ego that ruined so much.
Then I became one.
“Okay.” I sighed. “I’ll go.”
She gave me a half smile. “It’s a pretty good conference, for such a sigh.”
I couldn’t avoid presentations when getting my PhD, but I did my best to avoid them now. When I was in undergrad, I was given a prestigious research grant that was awarded to only a few people in the entire school.
I wassoexcited.
I got to work on my own area (under supervision) and then at the end of the year, I would present it with everyone else in the nation.
Except, I got sick. I left my boss high and dry. That was the moment I decided I wouldn’t apply for anything, because I couldn’t guarantee I could finish.
Like, it took me twice as long as usual to finish my undergrad. I had to take a break to heal before my master’s. I was pretty sure I would never get a PhD.
So it wasn’t that I didn’t want the Astro, or to present at IAS—Idid.
It was just…complicated.
After agreeing to not only room with Olly but make sure the university put us on the same flight, I got to work. It wasuneventful. Slow. My mind drifted again, and I tried to think of more and more ways to mess with Calder.
At the end of the day, I agreed to let my friends pick out a date for Friday.
The next day, on Tuesday, I took a photo of myself right out of the shower, all the important parts of me either blurred by steam or out of focus—still plenty risqué. I instantly got a message from Calder.
