Page 57 of Mud, Love, and Chemistry

I finish the measurements portion and move onto the calculations when Dr. Hinkle taps me on the shoulder. Taking out an ear-bud, I look at him.

“Sorry, Brynn. No headphones. I need all your attention on your work,” he says.

With a despondent nod, I put them away. Great. I’m right back where I started.

“Now you can contribute to the group, Brynn,” Sam says.

I whip my head up to glare at him. “And what exactly do I need to contribute?”

He nonchalantly shrugs a shoulder. “You’re, like, the second smartest person at the table. Your input might be useful.”

If I was a lithium metal, Sam’s words would be water. They ignite a fire in me, exploding from deep within my gut to radiate throughout my body. I want to leap across this table and tear that smug smirk off his face.

But that’s what he wants. He wants me to react so he knows he got to me. Well, too bad.

With a deep breath, I turn a friendly, albeit fake, smile on him. I pitch forward to look at his paper. “Well, it’s a good thing you asked.” I point to his first calculation. “You’ve switched your chemical amounts here. If you mix these like this, it’ll ruin your result.”

Sam narrows his eyes before he scans his work. His skepticism turns to disdain as he realizes I’m right. Grimacing, he sighs. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” I say in my most bubbly voice.

Our heated glares threaten to set off the fire alarm until Maya butts in. “Don’t let it get to you, Sam. It was a silly mistake. Now that you’ve got it sorted out, Brynn can go back to her own work.” The bite undercutting her words pulls me out of my angry staring contest.

She and Sam return to their own little world, and I’m left to myself. I should be glad. Obviously, Sam is still miffed from our fight last week. Probably even more so now that I’ve one-upped him in front of Maya, but he seems to recover quickly, falling back into their whisper-giggle routine.

I guess this is my sign that I imagined the attempted kiss. Relief should be flooding me.

So, why do I feel the weight of disappointment settling in my chest?

Chapter 18

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” I say, hiding my face in my hands.

“Shut up,” Lisa says as she applies her bright-red lipstick. “You’re hot. And we can’t have a complete Village People line up without the cop.”

I pull my hands away from my face to observe myself in the mirror. I’ll hand it to Lisa; she did a fantastic job on my makeup. The smoky eye she gave me really makes my blue eyes pop, and thankfully she went easy on the blush. Even the lipstick shade is a more muted red. My hair is cute too. The loose curls spill out from under the police hat like a waterfall as they cascade onto my shoulders.

But this costume, if you could even call it that, isn’t anything more than full-coverage lingerie. The hem of my dress doesn’t even cover my whole ass. The fishnet tights only add to the effect, as does the zipper in front that stops halfway up my torso. If I bend over even slightly, people will see everything I usually keep under lock and key.

“I’ll probably be arrested for indecent exposure,” I joke, but Lisa glares.

“No one is going to complain.” She puts the finishing touches on her makeup, fluffs her hair, and pulls me in for a side hug. “We’re going to be the hottest girls there. Come on, let’s get Jackie and Hannah.”

The Halloween party Lisa is dragging us to is only a few houses down the street. Makes for an easy walk home, though it’s cold enough, I’d be fine paying for an Uber, too. The four of us stroll down the street, trying not to break our ankles in the hooker heels we’re wearing, and giggling the entire way.

When we reach the house, I’m not at all surprised to hear the music blaring through the speakers, or to see people crowded into every square inch. A lot of people means more eyes to witness me in this ridiculous costume. I tug on the hem of my “dress” as we ascend the front steps.

Lisa pats my shoulder. “Get a grip, Brynn.”

“Tell that to my outfit,” I say, wriggling the costume down as much as possible. “Whose party is this, again?”

“A guy from my Econ class.”

“A guy? Or a guy you know?”

Lisa rolls her eyes. “Yes, I know him. His name’s Brent.” A smile pulls at her lips. “We sit next to each other and talk every day. He’s cool, don’t worry.”

I’m not worried about Brent. I’m worried about the hundred pairs of eyes that will be ogling all the square inches of my exposed skin.

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