Page 10 of Love in the Lab
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, ifsomeoneplayed 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.
