Page 5 of Love in the Lab (Delaneys in Love #2)
When Jonathan climbs back into the truck with two white paper sacks dotted with grease, a bottle of water, and a large paper cup, he’s still smiling. He hands one of the bags to me, and I practically rip it open.
I eat the fries first because once they get cold, they’re disgusting. After I polish off the fries, I reach back into the sack for the chicken wings. I hazard a glance toward my dining companion. He’s watching me, the ever-present smirk on his face. He hasn’t started eating yet.
“What?” I challenge.
His smirk gets … smirkier. “Nothing. I just like a woman who can eat.”
I scowl at him. “I don’t care what kind of woman you like.”
His eyes twinkle. “Noted.” He opens his bag and pulls out a cardboard container of hot wings. “I love this place. I used to go to that chain restaurant for wings, but then I found Saucy, and it’s so much better. The wings at the other place are consistently undersauced.”
As the fries settle into my stomach, and the gut-brain connection signals to my brain that we’re not starving anymore, I’m less crabby.
I even allow a slight smile when I tease Jonathan. “Consistently undersauced, huh? Sounds like a real problem.”
Jonathan barks out a laugh. “Yes. Consistently undersauced. I stand by the phrase.”
We both return to our food, and the truck is quiet for a few minutes. Even if Jonathan deserves it, I feel guilty about my behavior today; I’ve definitely been at my worst. I’ve been uncomfortable and overstimulated and took it out on him.
Finally, I take a fortifying breath and blurt, “I’m sorry.”
Jonathan stills. I’m looking at the food in my lap, but I feel his gaze turn to me. “For what?”
“Being such a crank today. How rude I’ve been.”
He shrugs. “You’re fine. I know this isn’t your ideal assignment, and I’m not your ideal lab partner. I’d probably be cranky, too.”
The thing is, I’m not sure he would be.
“But listen,” he continues, rubbing his sauce-smeared fingers on a napkin. “Were you serious earlier when you said work shouldn’t be fun? Don’t you love being a scientist?”
I nod. “I do love being a scientist, but that doesn’t mean I need to goof around all the time or, I don’t know, start a prank war or something. I take my work seriously.”
“I think work should be fun. You know,”—he rubs his chin—“back in high school, they called me the Prank King of Ohio.”
“Did you have buttons made?” I ask dryly.
He grins. “I didn’t, but what a good idea.”
I stare at him. “You think pranks are fun?”
“I do. Have you ever played a prank on anyone?”
“No.” But my pulse ticks up at the thought. My brain craves novelty, and I often have to talk it down from trying something new. Novelty may sound fun, but it’s untested. Unsafe.
“Hmm,” he muses. “Could be a way to have more fun at work.”
“Are you suggesting we have a prank war?”
He winks. “Of course not. That would be unprofessional. But, if someone played a prank on me at work, I would enjoy it. And retaliate, of course.”
For a second, I actually consider it. A prank war could be a way for me to act on my feelings of rivalry for Jonathan while still being able to work cooperatively with him when I need to. But introducing that much unpredictability into my life is a recipe for disaster.
Instead of entertaining his suggestion any further, I turn to face forward. “I’m ready to go home now.”
The drive back to the lab is quiet. Because I don’t have shoes, Jonathan offers to run in and get my bag from my desk for me. When he realizes I walked to work, he offers to drive me home.
He pulls the truck up to the curb outside my apartment building.
“What’s your number?” he asks.
I stare at him. “Excuse me?”
What about anything that happened today would make him think I’d give him my phone number?
He smirks. “So I can text you about our future fieldwork excursions. No funny business.”
Oh. That makes sense. I rattle off my number.
Jumping out of the truck, I collect my bag and soggy shoes before I walk up the stairs to the entrance of my apartment building. I type in my entry code, and the door unlocks. I turn back and give Jonathan a little wave.
Upstairs in my apartment, I strip and shower. Afterward, I put on my coziest comfort clothes and settle on the couch to binge Anne with an E , one of my emotional support shows.
I check my phone and see a text from an unknown number. I open it to find a picture of myself from today, standing in the water in ridiculously large waders and glaring at the camera. I cringe. The message says, “Thought you might want this to help you remember our eventful day together.”
I shake my head and forward the photo to my sisters in our group chat.
Molly:
My day today
Olivia:
lmao
Nicole:
What?? Where were you?
Molly:
Day 1 of fieldwork with Jonathan
Nicole:
Oh no! It doesn’t look like it went well
Olivia:
nice fit
Nicole:
Ha! Olivia that’s funny because it could mean fit like outfit or fit like how it’s way too big on her
Olivia:
I know
Molly:
Anyway, hope your day is going better than mine
Olivia:
oh yeah livin the dream. maybe if I get a fourth part time coaching job I can afford to move out of my childhood bedroom
Molly:
You’ll get there
Molly:
Nicole?
Nicole:
My day is fine
Olivia:
Nicole
Nicole:
Okay… remember you asked for it
Nicole:
Adam is taking me on the sweetest date tonight! It’s a tour of a candy factory where we can create our own chocolate bars at the end! [heart eye emoji]
I groan. I’m so happy for my sister, really. She’s dated some real duds, and I’m glad she and Adam found each other. He’s a super nice, super good guy.
But also I’m just a smidge … jealous? Which is stupid, I know. No sense wanting something I can’t have. I’m not sure any man would want to put up with all my … eccentricities once he got to know them. If I loved that man, I’m not sure I’d want to put him through that anyway.
I set my phone on the coffee table and turn on the show.
Oh well. I’ll just lose myself in the romance of Avonlea instead.
While this newer adaptation strays quite a bit from the original, it’s well done and easy to watch.
The movie series from the eighties is hard to find without buying the DVDs or paying for a special streaming service. I do love it, though.
Beaker jumps up next to me and settles on my lap. I stroke her back absently as the opening credits come up on the TV.
I sit back and relax. And that’s when the itching starts.