Page 17 of Love in the Lab (Delaneys in Love #2)

Chapter fourteen

Molly

S unday evening after I’ve said goodbye to my parents and they’ve gone back to their hotel for the night, I text Nicole to see if she’s free for a video call. She answers with a thumbs-up. When her face comes on the screen, she’s sitting on a dark brown couch with a dog in her lap.

“You’re at Adam’s,” I say in lieu of a greeting.

“Yeah, but we’re fine. He’s in the shower. We have a few minutes.”

I send her a teasing smile. “Mom and Dad are heading your way in the morning. Is Adam nervous about meeting them?”

“Oh, yes.” She grimaces. “It doesn’t help that he offered to let them stay in his guest room while they’re here.”

My mouth pops open. “No! Why would he do that?”

She sighs. “Because he has the extra space and didn’t want them to get a hotel room unnecessarily.”

“Wow. Adam is such a good guy. I’m not even housing them, and I’m their daughter .” Also, my apartment is a postage stamp, and Dad says he is well beyond the stage of crashing on somebody’s futon while traveling.

Nicole laughs. “Yeah, well. You know them better than he does.”

Of course, we’re joking. Our parents are pretty much the best. I’m cringing, though, thinking about how uncomfortable it will be for Adam to host his girlfriend’s parents whom he’s never met before. He must really love Nicole.

A pang of longing erupts in my chest. I am so happy that Nicole and Adam got together.

I cheered for Adam the whole time before Nicole admitted her feelings for him, and they really are adorable together.

My joy for my sister finding true love is tinged with sadness, though.

Despite my bravado about how it’s better that I’m alone so I can focus on my work, I’m lonely.

Witnessing how meeting Adam has changed Nicole, opening her up and softening her, I wonder if maybe there’s hope for me, too.

Immediately, Jonathan’s ridiculously good-looking face springs to mind.

In the lower right corner of my phone screen, I watch my own face as it twists into a grimace.

Nicole notices, too. She sits up straighter as she peers into her phone screen. “But I’m guessing you didn’t call to talk about Mom and Dad. Everything okay?”

I tell her about fieldwork with Jonathan and the pranks we’ve been playing on each other at the lab. I share my excitement about the data model I’ve developed and the breakthrough it could be. I explain how severely my daily routines have morphed over the last six weeks.

“So, what’s the problem?” Nicole asks. “Mol, it sounds like you’re having fun. You sound happy.”

I tug on the ends of my hair. “That’s the problem! I can’t have fun at work. At work, I need to focus on work. I can't afford to get distracted.”

“You’re doing your best work right now! You said so yourself.”

“Yes, but that’s in spite of the distractions.”

Nicole shifts in her seat, and the dog jumps down from the couch. “Maybe it’s because you’re allowing yourself to take brain breaks.”

I shake my head. No. I can’t afford Jonathan and his distractions anymore. I’m going to tell him the prank war is done.

Monday afternoon, I watch Jonathan walk to the breakroom and emerge a few minutes later with a lunchbox that he takes out into the hallway.

He must be going to eat lunch on the bench outside.

I grab my lunch out of the refrigerator as well and follow him downstairs.

Now’s as good a time as any to talk to him about ending the prank war.

He’s getting settled on the bench when I come around the corner of the building. When he sees me, his eyes light up. “Hey!”

“Hi.” I wave awkwardly. I’m not sure what to say and feel uncomfortably like I’m about to break up with someone when they have no idea there’s a problem. But of course, we’re not breaking up because we were never dating.

He gestures for me to come closer. “Come sit down. How was the visit from your parents?”

Small talk first. I can do that. “Great! It was really good to see them. They left this morning to drive to Florida to see my sister.”

“Where in Florida does your sister live?” Jonathan takes a bite of his sandwich as he waits for my response.

“St. Anastasia. It’s a small town close to Jacksonville.” I sit on the bench and unzip the top flap on my lunchbox.

“That’s cool. I’ve never heard of it. Is she younger or older than you? Do you have other siblings?” He chuckles. “I guess I’d like to know more about your family.”

Despite my nervousness, I smile as I pick at the wrapper of my granola bar. “I have two sisters, both younger. Nicole is the sister who lives in Florida, and she’s closest in age to me. Olivia is the youngest. She lives in Austin with my parents.”

“Is that where you grew up? I remember you’re from Texas.” He’s finished his sandwich now and pulls an apple from his bag, shining the skin against his shirt before crunching into it.

“Yeah.”

“It’s funny that you’re one of three sisters. I have three little nieces. My older sister Tamara’s girls.”

I finally open the granola bar and chew a piece as I consider. “You’re from Ohio, I think you said. Right?”

He swallows a bite of apple before answering. “Yep. The Buckeye State. Most of my family still live there.”

“What about your parents?”

Jonathan’s expression changes, his lips pinching as a wrinkle forms between his eyebrows. He taps his fingers against the bench’s armrest. “They’re divorced,” he says quickly.

“I’m sorry. Do they still live in Ohio?”

His eyes are trained on the last few bits of apple on the core in his hands. “My dad does. My mom lives in New Delhi at the moment.”

“New Delhi, India? That’s amazing!” I exclaim, but his mood has shifted. He shrugs, and my skin prickles at his discomfort.

I don’t push him. Instinctively, I lay my hand on his arm and squeeze. He meets my eyes, and time stops. At first, his gaze is cloudy, his eyebrows drawn together and his eyes narrowed. But the longer we’re locked together, the more his expression relaxes until he’s smiling again.

I’m not sure what he sees in my eyes, but I know what’s happening inside of me. My heartbeat feels erratic. A quiver in my stomach causes a vibration that carries up my spine and exits my body through my shoulders as a shiver. All from a simple touch.

I drop my hand and clear my throat. Awkwardly, I plow ahead to the topic I came out here to talk to him about and which feels more urgent than ever after the moment we just had.

“So, listen,” I start. “This thing we’ve been doing—it’s been fun, but I need to refocus on my work.”

“What have we been doing?” Jonathan’s eyebrows drop in confusion. “Fieldwork? Getting to know each other better? Eating together?”

“No!” I say loudly. Lowering my voice, I whisper, “The pranks .”

Jonathan rubs his chin, his eyes widening innocently. “What pranks? I guess there has been some weird stuff happening at the lab lately.” He gasps. “Are you saying you had something to do with all that?”

I huff out a breath. “Jonathan!” I whisper furiously.

His eyes twinkle. “Chill, Molly Wolly Doodle.” He rubs his thumb over the space between my eyebrows, smoothing the skin.

He trails his thumb above my eyebrow and then between the corner of my eye and my hairline.

I hold my breath, watching his eyes as they track the path of his thumb.

He continues down my jawline, and goosebumps erupt across my face everywhere he touches. I shiver.

“The air’s getting cooler, isn’t it?” he asks in a husky voice, his eyes flicking to mine. “Maybe we’ll have an early fall this year.”

I pull away because it’s muggy and at least eighty-five degrees out here. The air around us shouldn’t be making me shiver, and he knows it.

Jonathan drops his hand. “I’m going to go back upstairs.” He stands. “Enjoy the rest of your lunch.”

He walks away without glancing back. My brain fogs up as I try to sort out what just happened. I still feel the whispers of his thumb along my skin, see the ring of green in his hazel eyes.

Wait. I clear my head with a toss of my hair. Did he agree to no more pranks or not? It’s his turn, so even if he has one more planned, I don’t have to retaliate. I can be the bigger person here, the more responsible one. I finish my lunch and get back to work.

I’m still working at my computer later that afternoon, typing up another report, when Jonathan’s voice coming from behind me makes me jump. “It’s about time to go home, isn’t it, Carrots?”

I check the time—5:45—and swivel in my chair to face him. I’m confused about the new nickname until I realize I have a baggie of baby carrots sitting next to the keyboard on my desk. Jonathan has his computer bag slung across his chest, sunglasses perched on top of his head.

“Are you heading out?” I ask.

“Yeah. You?”

I turn my head to survey the document open on the computer screen. “Soon. I just want to finish this report.” I swivel my chair back around.

In a low voice, Jonathan teases, “I’ll be in the depths of despair without you.”

My mouth drops open, and I freeze, turning my head to see him smirking. I face him and point an accusatory finger. “You said you’d never heard of Anne of Green Gables !”

He shrugs. “I looked it up. Couldn’t find it streaming anywhere, so I bought the DVDs. Can you believe that? In this day and age?” He shakes his head.

“You bought the DVDs?” I sputter. “ I don’t even have the DVDs!”

He slides a box out of his satchel. “All yours, Carrots.” He winks and hands me the boxed set of eight DVDs.

Too stunned to argue, I reach out my hand to take it.

He doesn’t let go of the box. Instead, he pulls the chair and, consequently, me closer, crouching down until his mouth is next to my ear.

“By the way,” he rumbles so quietly that I have to lean even closer to hear. “I noticed that Gilbert Blythe and his Carrots end up together. Isn’t that interesting?”

I gulp and pull back to see his face. Is that why he’s calling me Carrots?

From Anne of Green Gables ? The corners of his lips quirk upward, but his eyes are devastatingly serious, a whirlwind of green and brown.

I’m powerless to look away. He breaks eye contact first, straightening back to his full height and turning toward the door.

“See you tomorrow,” he says casually.

“Yeah,” I answer in a daze. “See you tomorrow.”

When I get home, I open the box of DVDs.

One slips out onto the ground, and I pick it up.

It’s labeled “Bonus Content,” but it looks a little …

off. I investigate the box and see that each of the advertised eight DVDs are there, snapped snugly into their trays.

There is no empty tray. The Bonus Content is a ninth disc.

I study the label on the Bonus Content disc and compare it to the labels on the other eight.

It’s pretty darn close, but the Bonus Content label is slightly askew, not perfectly centered like on the other discs.

Curious, I slide the DVD into my player. When it starts playing, I groan loudly. It’s a video of Rick Astley singing his popular ’80s song “Never Gonna Give You Up.” I stare at the screen as Astley belts out the lyrics speaking to his commitment.

Before I know it, I’m laughing so hard that literal tears are streaming down my face. He’s just too much. I pull out my phone.

Molly:

You rickrolled me? Seriously? What is this, 2008?

Jonathan:

[laughing emoji] A prank and a promise

I shake my head, my smile so big it’s actually hurting my cheeks. Okay, one more prank. The prank to end the prank war. And I need to make it the best one yet.