“So?”
“So guess who's going to be out there chasing it?” Lucas raises his eyebrows meaningfully.
“No.” I shake my head emphatically. “Absolutely not. Following her into the field uninvited would be completely inappropriate.”
“Not following her,” Lucas clarifies. “Just happening to be in the same area, studying the same storm system. It's a public road, Jonah. Storm chasers converge all the time.”
“That's...” I pause, considering, “unprofessional.”
“Is it, though?” Lucas takes a long pull from his beer. “Studying storms is literally your job. If you happen to be collecting field data when she's out there doing the same...”
“It would look like stalking,” I finish for him. “Which is exactly what it would be.”
“Not if you're actually doing legitimate research,” Lucas counters.
I consider Lucas's point despite myself. There is some logic to what he's saying, though I'm loath to admit it. Collecting field data would legitimately help my research, regardless of whether Ms. Brooks is there.
“I don't have the proper equipment for field research,” I argue, more to myself than to him. “My instruments haven't been calibrated for field conditions in years.”
“The meteorology department has equipment,” Lucas counters, leaning forward eagerly now that I haven't outright rejected the idea. “I bet Eleanor would approve an emergency requisition if you explained it was for grant research.”
“And transportation? You know my Prius isn't exactly built for off-road storm chasing.”
Lucas grins triumphantly. “Channel 8's storm vehicle is fully equipped. The producer owes me a favor after that exclusive on the Stillwater flooding. I can get you cleared to ride along.”
“So your brilliant plan is for me to borrow university equipment, ride along in your news van, and just happen to run into her in the middle of tornado alley?” I shake my head, but I can feel my resolve weakening. “That doesn't seem desperate at all.”
“It's not desperate, it's determined,” Lucas corrects. “And besides, what's your alternative? Sit in your office refreshing your email while the perfect storm—literally—passes you by?”
The worst part is, he's making sense. If Lila doesn't respond to my email, this might be my only chance to salvage this partnership.
And the grant committee is not going to wait forever. My models are strong, but without field validation...
“Fine. If she doesn't respond by Friday, we'll consider the field trip option.”
Lucas claps his hands together. “That's the spirit! Who knows? Maybe seeing you braving the elements for science will impress her.”
“Or maybe she'll think I'm following her and report me to the ethics board at the university,” I mutter. “But at least I'll have some field data for my grant proposal.”
“That's my guy,” Lucas says, raising his beer in a mock toast. “Always looking on the bright side.”
I check my phone again. Nothing.
The rest of dinner passes with Lucas filling me in on the latest gossip from the news station and the new piece he’s working on for the upcoming summer Olympic Games.
By the time I get home to my quiet apartment, it's nearly ten, and I'm exhausted in that particular way that comes from social anxiety rather than physical exertion. I drop my keys on the counter and head straight for my laptop, unable to resist checking my email one more time.
The inbox loads. Five new emails. The screen takes what feels like forever to load, and when it does, I audibly swear as five emails from students with questions appear on my screen. But, no reply from Lila.
I lean back in the chair, exhaling slowly. So that’s my answer. Not a rejection. Not an acceptance. Just silence. The kind that leaves room for doubt, for second-guessing, and for contingency plans I don’t want to make.
Friday isn’t far off.
I close the laptop and rub a hand over my face, already running through the logistics I swore I wouldn’t need. If this partnership is going to happen, it won’t be because she met me halfway.
It’ll be because I stepped into her world instead. And I’m not sure yet how I feel about that.
LILA
