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“That’s totally cool,” I said, unsure as to why he was so guarded about it. “You said before you were interested to know what it did to the human body. Writing that shit down isn’t a big surprise.”
“Yes, well,” he said, putting his pen down and closing his notebook. “Some people think it’s stupid and that it undermines our actual research.”
Ah. Clearly a co-worker or colleague with a superiority complex.
“Oh, fuck whoever said that,” I said. “There are no rules to what you find fascinating. Only gatekeepers.”
His gaze darted to mine. So fucking blue.
“Well, yes. Gatekeepers who keep me on the payroll.”
“Oh.Thosekind of gatekeepers.”
He chuckled. “Yes, the one and the same.”
“Well, stuck-up bosses aside, what you research on your own time has nothing to do with them. It’s just very convenient, and maybe a little coincidental, that you can collate your personal data at the same time you collate theirs.”
His smile lingered and died, the same way a sunset fades; beautiful and slow, the light giving way to the dark.
“I’m not particularly popular at work,” he said quietly. “They all think I’m a little... weird. I believe creepy was the word used in an evaluation once.”
“Creepy? What the fuck? You’re not creepy.”
His eyebrow flicked upward in a telling sign that he didn’t agree with me. Or that others wouldn’t, at least. “I learned a valuable lesson though,” he said. “Not to disclose my personal interests in our field of study, and not to disclose sexual orientation in our field of study. I’ve been without a field partner ever since. So, what I learned is basically just do the work they pay me to do and shut up.”
I frowned and sat on the bed with a heavy sigh. “Well, I’m sorry that happened. And also, fuck them. On both counts. Your reasons for studying meteorology and lightning are your own. Everyone has different reasons for doing whatever they do. And about the other thing... well, it ain’t anyone’s business who you take home.” Then, for a joke, I added, “Unless you were banging someone in the office on company time.”
I laughed, because itwasa joke, but then he shot me a look that said...
“Oh shit, no way!” I barked out a laugh. “You banged someone in the office?”
His cheeks went red and he mumbled something to his notebook.
“What was that?” I asked. “I didn’t quite catch it.”
“It wasn’t at work,” he said indignantly. “It was someone at a meteorology convention, which was technically work time.” The corner of his mouth pulled down. “At the convention, in a bathroom stall in the men’s room.”
I laughed for a solid two minutes. “Holy shit, Jeremiah, you sly dog! That’s awesome.” I studied him, his nerdy, sexy self, with the ripped body and giant doctor brain. “I gotta say, I’m proud. And a little jealous.”
His gaze shot to mine. “Jealous. Of whom?”
I snorted. Of whom?Whooom. Who the hell said whom?
“Jealous that you got your freak on at a work thing. In the bathroom stalls. Jealous that you’ve done that and I haven’t.” I shrugged without a skerrick of shame. “And jealous of the guy you were in there with. Because damn, Jeremiah, that’s hot as fuck.”
His cheeks turned an incredible pink, and so did the tips of his ears. He cleared his throat. “Yes well, my boss didn’t think so. I managed to come out of the stall and come out of the closet all at the same time. My boss and two other state managers were at the sink, washing their hands.”
I laughed again, holding my stomach. “That’s the best story I’ve ever heard. Why didn’tcha have an exiting-the-stall strategy?”
He stared at me. “Strategy? We didn’t even have an entering-the-stall strategy. We made eye contact at the bar, I needed to use the bathroom, he followed me. I’m still not sure how it happened.”
I laughed again, this time clutching his pillow. “God, that makes it so much better.”
“I fail to see how.”
“Did you ever see him again?”
“Once, at the same convention the following year. I avoided all eye contact, should he assume it was another invitation. I didn’t want to get fired.”
