Page 11 of Crocodile Tears
“Dr.Lawson, I think you and Calvin are going to get along beautifully.”
Before I can fully process what I’m agreeing to, Red has scheduled us for dinner tomorrow night at a restaurant called Scales and Tails.She assures me it’s shifter-friendly with reinforced furniture and “splash zones” for unexpected shifting incidents.
After I hang up, I stare at my reflection in the laboratory window.My hair is pulled back in its usual practical bun, I’m wearing a lab coat over comfortable clothes, and a small smear of chemical residue mars my sleeve from this morning’s calibration work.I look exactly like what I am—a dedicated scientist who prioritizes function over fashion.
For the first time in months, that doesn’t feel like something for which I need to apologize.
Margo appears in the doorway, carrying coffee and wearing her trademark expression of barely contained curiosity.
“Dr.L, you look pleased about something.Please tell me it’s not because you’ve discovered a new way to accidentally destroy lab equipment.”
“I have a date tomorrow night.”
She nearly drops her coffee.“A date?Who?”
“With a Gila monster shifter, who apparently finds competence attractive.”
“Oh my god.”Margo sets down her coffee and grabs my hands.“Dr.L, this is huge.What’s he like?What does he do?Please tell me he’s not another academic, who thinks your success is a personal threat to his fragile masculinity.”
“He’s a security consultant with a military background.According to Red, he was impressed by my passion for my work rather than intimidated by it.”
Margo’s grin could power the entire lab.“A security consultant?That sounds mysterious and exciting.”
“Apparently, he does something involving guns and occasional explosions.”
She doesn’t bat an eye as her grin gets even wider.“Even better.Dr.L, you’re dating someone dangerous enough to appreciate your crocodile nature but civilized enough to want a relationship.This is perfect.”
Her enthusiasm is infectious, and I smile despite my usual skepticism about romantic possibilities.“It’s just one date.Let’s not plan the wedding yet.”
“One date with someone who specifically requested a brilliant, intense woman who occasionally shifts into apex predator form.”Margo bounces on her toes.“Dr.L, I have a really good feeling about this one.”
As I return to my spectrophotometer calibration, I realize I have a good feeling about it, too.For the first time in my dating history, I’m meeting someone who might actually appreciate the full spectrum of who I am.
The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur of productivity and nervous energy.I manage to successfully calibrate the spectrophotometer without breaking anything, complete three genetic analyses that have been pending for weeks, and reorganize my entire sample collection by taxonomic classification.Margo recognizes my stress-organization patterns and tactfully doesn’t comment when she finds me sorting the contents of the supply closet by molecular weight.
“Dr.L,” she says gently, finding me labeling test tubes with excessive precision.“You know you don’t have to be perfect for this guy.Right?”
I pause mid-label, suddenly aware that I’ve been treating tomorrow’s date like a crucial experiment that requires flawless execution.“I just want to make a good impression.”
“You’ll make a great impression by being yourself.”She perches on the lab stool next to me.“Think about it.Red matched you with someone who specifically wants someone like you.”
She’s right, but the rational part of my brain is currently losing a battle with the part that’s calculating all the ways this could go wrong.“What if I shift during dinner?What if I say something too scientific?What if he expects me to be more… conventionally feminine?”
“Dr.L, breathe.”Margo’s voice carries the same gentle authority she uses when I’m spiraling about research deadlines.“First, you’re going to a shifter-friendly restaurant specifically designed for people who might shift during dinner.Second, the man finds competence attractive, so being scientific is a feature, not a bug.Third, if he wanted conventionally feminine, he wouldn’t have asked to meet a crocodile shifter with two PhDs.”
I take a deep breath, inhaling the familiar scents of the lab—chemical preservatives, cleaning agents, and the faint metallic tang of research equipment.These smells have been my comfort zone for years, the backdrop to my greatest achievements and discoveries.
“Besides, didn’t you tell me he disarmed a waiter?That suggests he’s not exactly conventional himself.”
The reminder makes me smile despite my nerves.“Red said his training kicked in before his social awareness.”
“See?You’re both people whose professional skills occasionally create awkward social situations.That’s compatibility, Dr.L.”
By the time I leave the lab that evening, I’ve worked through most of my nervous energy and reached a state of cautious optimism.The drive home takes me past the restaurant where we’re meeting tomorrow—Scales and Tails, which from the outside looks like a cross between a family diner and a fortress.The windows are tinted, a discreet sign by the door indicates “Shifter Accommodations Available,” and the parking lot has unusually wide spaces, probably to accommodate patrons who might need to make quick exits.
At home, I stand in front of my closet, trying to decide what says “professional scientist who is also comfortable with her predator nature” without screaming “I overthink everything.”After trying on and rejecting half my wardrobe, I settle on an emerald green dress that complements my eyes and, more importantly, won’t show too much damage if I accidentally shift.The color brings out the subtle green undertones in my skin that appear when I’m relaxed, a reminder that my shifter nature isn’t something to hide but something that makes me unique.
I catch my reflection in the bedroom mirror and barely recognize the woman looking back at me.I look excited rather than anxious about a date.There’s color in my cheeks, my eyes are bright with anticipation, and my usual tense posture has relaxed into something that actually looks approachable.
