Page 42 of Love in the Lab
“Consider this a warning.”
“Ah … okay. Thanks. Thank you. I promise it won’t happen again.”
I back out of her office, still trying to decode that interaction. I wonder if Molly will understand it better than I do. I make my way to her cubicle to talk to her, but it’s empty. My shoulders droop. I was hoping she’d wait for me so we could debrief after everything that went down today. On the other hand, it’s getting late, and I’m happy she went home at a decent hour.
I dip into my cubicle to grab my bag so I can go home, too. I’ll text Molly when I get there, just to make sure she’s okay from today and ready for tomorrow.
We’ve planned another trip out to the Gulf on thePulseto pick up two gliders that have completed their missions and to collect more samples. We’ve been traveling to various bayous in the area weekly, wading out to collect water samples. Molly and I have developed a rhythm on these outings, and they’ve allbeen miles more successful than that first one, though it would probably be difficult for them to be worse.
Boat trips are special though. They don’t happen as often, and unlike the bayou trips, our first boat outing set a high bar. Still, I’m hoping we clear that bar tomorrow.
Chapter sixteen
Molly
Ifeel almost criminal as I loiter in the shadows outside the lab building waiting for Jonathan to emerge. I can’t believe he’s upstairs right now taking the blame formymisconduct. I got carried away, that much is clear to me now. Even though I did it in a responsible way, I should haveneverinvolved the water samples—our research—in my prank.
What was I thinking?
Tired of waiting in the shadows, I walk across the parking lot to lurk near Jonathan’s truck instead. I need to talk to him. I need to apologize. I need to thank him.
Soon, I see him exit the building and walk in my direction. He hasn’t noticed me yet, so I take the opportunity to study him. The strap on his messenger-style computer bag crisscrosses his broad chest, and his hands are tucked into his front pockets. His eyes, usually warm and playful, are lowered, watching the ground in front of him as he walks. His hair, dark and curly, flops onto his forehead. His gait is confident and strong.
The more I watch him, the more my heart pounds and my stomach flutters, and the more obvious it becomes that I’m not just attracted to Jonathan. I don’t want to just apologize or thank him. I definitely don’t hate him. Maybe even … the opposite? Or something close to it.
He’s only a few feet from the truck when he sees me. “Hey!” he says, smiling slowly and stumbling back a step. “I thought you went home.”
“I wanted to wait for you.” I can’t look away from him, especially now that he’s as focused on me as I am on him. Jonathan has me mesmerized, without even trying. The air between us feels electric, like we’re two atoms with opposite charges being drawn together. We’re within an invisible force field, and I’m powerless to do anything but drift closer to him.
I don’t know if he feels it, too, but he steps forward so we’re toe to toe. “I’m glad you did.” He takes his hands out of his pockets as his eyes dip to my mouth.
It’s all the invitation I need. I launch myself forward and up—he’ssotall, at least compared to me—my lips crashing into his. For a terrifying second, he freezes, and I’m afraid my impulsive action is yet another mistake. I start to pull away. Jonathan wraps one arm around my back, pulling me closer, while the other arm comes up, his hand cupping the back of my neck.
He’s kissing me back. What’s more, he’s taking control of this kiss, moving his lips against mine with frantic, desperate energy.I reach my hand behind his head, tangling my fingers in his curls, silky against my skin. He groans softly against my mouth.
His lips leave mine, moving to trail kisses across my jawline. “Thank you,” I breathe out. “I’m so sorry I got you in trouble—”
“With this reward, it was one thousand percent worth it,” he murmurs, running his lips over my neck.
“Something can’t be one thousand percent,” I say. “Cent means hundred, so—” The rest of my explanation is lost as his mouth covers mine again. I feel him smirking against my lips, and I pull back slightly.
“Are you laughing at me?” I ask. Almost every nerve ending in my body screams at me to lean back in, kiss him again. The self-preservation part of me keeps me in place.
Jonathan leans his forehead against mine, breathing heavily. When he catches his breath, he tilts his face away enough to look me in the eye. “No, I’m not laughing at you. I’m finding you delightful, as always.” His hazel eyes are bright and sincere as he lifts his hand away from my back and gently caresses a finger across my cheek. “You’re incredible, Carrots. I’ve wanted this for a while.”
All coherent thought leaves my head so quickly I get lightheaded. “A while?” I repeat, dazed.
He chuckles. “Yeah.”
“Me too,” I admit.
He grins and wraps me in his arms, squeezing my body against him. It feels better than being bundled up in the most luxurious weighted blanket, especially when he presses a kiss to the top of my head. I inhale against his shirt. He has a subtly clean smell, like laundry detergent and the hand soap in the bathrooms at the lab, nothing overpowering.
“Does this mean you don’t hate me anymore?” he asks, his voice muffled in my hair.
I smile and nestle my cheek into his chest. “I think it does.”
My mantra of the day is “What was I thinking?” I thought it after I learned Dr. Perron was visiting the lab this morning. I thought it as I waited for Jonathan in the parking lot after work. I think it now—a refrain that’s looping through my head—as I lie in bed trying to get to sleep after kissing Jonathan Stanch.
