Page 38 of Beautifully Complicated

“I don’t understand.” I watch another clip, this time about an asteroid that will circle the earth. “Bikini Bottom… isn’t that a SpongeBob thing?”

“Trust me, I get it.” Aiden puffs out his cheeks as he exhales. “I thought the same thing when I first saw it, but Bikini Bottom News is timely and accurate, with zero spin. It’s the fastest, least biased way to stay informed.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Just… Watch it.” He goes back to typing, still as red as he was a few minutes ago, so I take the phone to my desk and scroll through the old clips.

I can’t independently verify anything since I rarely see the news myself, but a quick search on every story turns up a piece with the same information, so clearly this fish reports actual news. And just like Aiden said, there’s never any spin to it. No underlying message to make the viewer lean one way or another. It’s impressive really.

And like everything else about him, this little quirk makes me like him even more.

Getting news from a fish is silly. Whimsical almost, yet totally legitimate at the same time. It’s a perfect fit for Aiden, who’s brilliant without being overly serious.

His phone unlocked and, in my hand, the temptation to snoop is overwhelming. Not to pry, just to feel closer to him in a way I can’t allow myself to chase through conversation. I want to learn everything I can about him, and even though I’d rather do that organically, the urge to find out by any available means is near compulsive. But I refrain, knowing that would only make the next several months worse, and in the end, it would rob me of learning about him through his own lips.

Shutting off the screen, I cross the room to hand the phone back to him, offering the most innocent smile I can muster when he takes it. “This does actually seem legitimate.”

The tension in his shoulders seems to fade somewhat, like he’s relieved to have my approval. “Believe me, I know how hard that is to admit.”

“How did you even find this?”

“One of my roommates. He absorbs information best in short, to-the-point doses, and this is how he gets all his news. I tried to poke holes in it, but it’s honestly airtight. Sometimes they even break things before more traditional sources.” He traps his lips between his teeth to hide a bashful smile.

“Unbelievable,” I mutter, getting momentarily distracted by the way that innocent gesture plumps and darkens his enticing mouth.

God, what I wouldn’t give to feel those lips on mine right now.

“So—” I clear my throat “—any progress on that sample you’ve been working on.

Work. Talk about work.

Aiden opens a file and starts pointing out how the algorithm correlates to the data he has, pausing at intervals to gauge whether I agree or disagree. When he’s finished going over his findings I say, “That was my assessment as well.”

“You have me working on the same project as you? Isn’t that redundant?”

“Not when you consider we’re trying to help this patient regain his natural gait instead of the stilted one his current prosthetic gives him. Everything has to be perfect, so I needed another set of eyes on it.”

“And you trust my eyes to do that?” His molten caramel gaze meets mine, and there’s so much reverence in them I nearly forget to answer.

“Of course I do.”

“But.” His long lashes brush against his cheeks as he blinks repeatedly. “I’m just your assistant.”

“So? Do you know how gifted you are? Half the time you finish my thoughts for me and the other you have them first. You could have a career that surpasses mine. I wouldn’t trust my father’s care to anyone else.”

“Your father?” Aiden gasps, and I realize my mistake.

He wasn’t supposed to know this prosthetic is for my dad. Not because it’s confidential or anything, but because that’s a personal detail like the ones we’re trying to avoid. And I didn’t just reveal a tiny detail about myself by telling him who the patient is, I admitted I value his opinion as much as, if not more than, my own.

“He lost his leg in a car accident years ago.” I try to skirt over the gravity of my earlier comments. “He was a runner, and while he can still run with his current prosthetic, he says he doesn’t feel like himself with it.”

“That’s how you got into this field.” Aiden puts two and two together. It’s not a stretch, but it’s also something I don’t share since there’s enough pressure to get this right without an entire industry watching.

Several people obviously know my dad benefits from my work, they just don’t know we’ve yet to build him something that feels as real as his leg did, and that I plan to keep fine tuning the algorithm until I can give that back to him.

No point in hiding that from Aiden now.

“Yes. I want to help everyone regain their mobility, but he’s the reason I want to make prosthetics feel like normal limbs.”

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