Page 18 of Love in the Lab
“Sorry,” I mumble. I set the chair back upright and back away, needing to create distance.
My attraction to Molly is evolving into a full-fledged crush faster than I care to admit. I need to nip this in the bud, which is a challenge considering the amount of time Dr. Gantt is forcing us together.
I lay low for a while. No pranks. No excuses to tease Molly or spend time with her.
Instead, I busy myself with pick-up basketball games with a few guys down at the rec center and mastering the All-American level in myNCAA Footballvideo game.
My dad calls one night while I’m relaxing at home playingNCAA. I’m tempted to let it go to voicemail or even answer while I continue my team’s run to the national title game. Instead, I pause the game. Ever since he officially broke the news to me that he and Sharon are getting married, I’ve been trying to be more supportive.
“Are you coming home for Christmas this year?” he asks.
“I’m not sure yet. Maybe.” I have no plans to go to Ohio for Christmas. As much as I’d like to see Tamara and the girls, I don’t know that I can keep up the veneer of support in such close quarters with my dad and Sharon for so many days.
“We’d really love for you to try. Sharon and I thought it would be a good time for the wedding, small of course, if everyone is around for Christmas already anyway.”
Grateful not to be on a video call, I drop my head back against the couch cushion and squeeze my eyes shut. They’re planning the wedding already?
I sigh. “I don’t know, Dad. I’ll see what I can do. I might have to work.”
The line is quiet. “Jonny…”
“I’ll try, Dad. Okay?”
I hear a heavy sigh on the other end of the call. “Okay. Thanks, Jonny.”
“Talk to you later, Dad.”
“Bye, kid. I love you.”
“Yep,” I say and end the call.
I groan, hot pokers of guilt piercing my chest. I’m thirty years old. When am I going to stop feeling and acting like a sulky teenager whenever I talk to my dad? The divorce was almost twenty years ago, but I still can’t help reliving those painful days after Mom left. Can’t help the grudge that grew and festered after I realized our family breaking apart was his fault; he wasn’tsupportive enough of his wife’s career. Now he wants a new wife, when he already failed to be the husband my mother needed.
It was an indelible lesson for me. Someday when I meet the right woman and become part of her life, I’ll become part of herwholelife. Her career will be as important to me as my own, maybe even more important. I recognize how much women have had to sacrifice historically to get ahead in their work. I watched it play out with my own mother.
My mind drifts to Molly. Like my mother, Molly is a woman who knows what she wants out of her career. I admire that about her. I appreciate her intelligence, her ambition. Her quick wit. Her eyes the color of the Mediterranean Sea…
I shake my head to dislodge the thoughts.You’re supposed to stymie your crush, not feed into it, I scold myself. Either way, I can’t lay low much longer. We have to go out again and collect samples at the various sites we’re tracking.
Two days later, Molly and I are back in the field. As promised, I give her ample warning and suggestions for what to wear and bring. She has her own waders now that fit properly. The day goes smoothly, but I hold back. I’m not sure how to act around her. My normal behavior with anyone is sunny and flirty, but I can’t flirt with Molly because I actually mean it, which is concerning given how often she scowls at me.
As the day goes on, her frowns transition into worried looks. In the truck on the way to our final sample site of the day, she turns to me abruptly and asks, “Are you okay?”
I shift my eyes to her briefly before focusing back on the road. Her hair isn’t wet today, yet somehow the lavender scent is back, permeating the cab of my truck again. Though I’m not lookingat her, I can’t forget she’s here, and it makes me feel fidgety in a way I can’t explain. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
She wrings her hands. “You’ve just been so … serious today. Businesslike.”
“Whereas normally I’m flippant and unprofessional?”
“Well … yes.”
That’s fair. In actively trying not to act weird around Molly, I’m apparently acting even weirder than if I just acted normal. Or something like that.
“And the … issue … you had with the microscope was more than a week ago,” she continues.
My lips curve into a smile. Seems Molly is as invested in this prank war now as I am. Sheisthe one who started it. “You feeling a little tense, Molly Rancher? A little on edge, perhaps?”
Her mouth drops open. “Isthatyour plan? Drive me crazy with anticipation?”
