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When it went straight to voicemail, Violet frowned. She left him a message and asked him to call her back, though she didn’t expect he would. Tensions had been high during the last season, so she wasn’t overly surprised when he hadn’t shown up for this one. Working on a team with all women would be equally interesting. It could either go well or be a disaster, though Lando didn’t strike her as someone who thrived on drama. Diane, however, was.
Waking up the computer in her lap, Violet pulled up the maps of the area they were in. Weather forecasters had been trying for decades to predict tornados and severe weather storms. They were always looking to improve their skills, their technology, anything so they could predict deadly nature faster and more efficiently. Violet had taken up that call years ago when she was a child, working every moment of her schooling in that specific direction.
The door opening was her sign she wasn’t alone anymore. She hadn’t realized more than twenty minutes had passed. Lando used her hip to hold the door open as she held the bags of food tightly in her hands.
“Where do you want me to put this?”
“Desk should be fine.” Violet stayed still, watching every move Lando made. She’d never been such an observer before. In class she looked for enthusiasm, smarts, if her student was understanding the concept. But they were far outside the classroom in some ways. In others, Lando was stepping right into the center of an in-depth class she had no escape from.
Lando set the bags down and rolled her shoulders. She went to the door, but instead of shutting it, she started to walk out of it.
“Where are you going?” Violet asked, her voice sharp and demanding, far more than she’d intended.
Lando raised an eyebrow, her pale blue eyes searing into Violet’s heart. “To get Diane.”
“Leave her. She’ll just bitch about the food anyway. I’d rather eat in peace for a few minutes before I have to listen to that racket.”
“O…kay.” Lando shut the door.
The tension in the room rose. Violet said nothing as Lando moved to the food and started unpacking everything she had ordered. She figured they should eat well when they could, since sometimes they’d be out in the field for longer than they slept.
Lando was methodical. She put everything in order on the desk and then grabbed a plate, turning to face Violet with a questioning look on her face. “Are you going to eat or stare at my ass?”
Violet bristled. She had not been staring at Lando’s ass. She was about to object but decided last minute it wasn’t worth her time. Tearing her gaze from Lando’s young face, she stared down at the computer screen which had gone black again from lack of use. Cursing under her breath, she slid it off her thighs and put it on the bed next to her. She could grab some food, and then teach Lando what to look for while she both ate and worked on the programming. It would kill three birds with one stone.
Tearing the plate from Lando’s fingers, Violet stacked it with food. She moved back to where she’d been sitting before, and when Lando stood with her plate piled high, Violet gave her a doubtful glance.
“Up here. We can figure this out while we eat. I’d like to get some sleep tonight.”
Lando said nothing as she shifted onto the mattress, trying not to spill her overfilled plate.
“Don’t get any of that on my bed.”
“I won’t,” Lando muttered.
As soon as she was situated, Violet woke up the computer and took a bite of her fajita. It was exactly what she’d wanted. She hummed in pleasure as the flavors hit her tongue. Taking another bite, Violet scarfed down the food. The mere snacks she’d had on the drive down were not enough to sate this kind of hunger.
“This year we’re working on finding three rope tornados that will pull up our equipment so we can follow trajectories with it.”
“Three?” Lando raised an eyebrow.
Violet nodded sharply. “That’s the hope. In reality, I’ll be pleased if we have one. Rope tornados are notoriously hard to catch.”
“Because they don’t move in a straight line.”
“Right.”
They seemed to find a rhythm, almost like they’d never left the classroom, although Violet kept her answers shorter and to the point, letting Lando make the conjectures and bridge the gaps between information and learning. They had no issues until Diane knocked on the door.
Lando stood up and opened it, greeting Diane with a large comfortable grin. Violet’s stomach sank. Diane eyed Lando like she was a piece of candy she was going to swallow whole if given the opportunity. Unfortunately, Diane would do that. Violet watched every interaction with as much keen observation skills as she’d been taught in school.
Diane’s eyes crinkled as she made eye contact. Lando blushed and broke the connection. It was a dance as old as time. Lando clearly had feelings for Diane, even in the short period of time they’d known each other, and they would deepen. Everyone became smitten with Diane, and it never turned out well.
Diane’s hand skimmed down Lando’s arm, and Violet’s stomach twisted. She wanted that hand on her, not on Lando. The attention Diane would give to anything new that walked into view was absurd. Diane murmured something, but Violet didn’t catch it through the raging anger in her ears. Shaking her head, she clicked a little too hard on her laptop to try and change the view of the weather map in front of her.
It looked like there was a small storm on the horizon. Going to Guymon could either be a lucky break or a devastating disaster. Only time would tell. Clenching her jaw, she tried to ignore Lando helping Diane to choose what was best to eat. Seemed the attention lavishing went both ways.
Violet glued her eyes to the screen in front of her, but her ears were attuned to the room. Diane wove stories of chases they had done in the past, glorifying them, making her seem like the hero for every single one. She always did that when she wanted to impress someone. Violet sneered. She would want to sway the young impressionable student to her side because soon enough Lando would figure out the secret. Violet was the brains behind the operation. Diane took care of finances, food, and driving.
