Page 42 of Conspiracies and Chemistry

Fuck, fuck, fuck!Where had my pillow barrier gone?

I hoped she was sleeping through the tattoo my heart was banging against my ribs and hers.

I lifted my arm from her warm skin, then carefully scooted my hips backward. I extricated my legs next. Finally, I had enough space to plant my working hand on the mattress so I could drag my dead arm out from under Tessa’s head. Cautiously, I rolled to my back, then to my other side. I levered up to sit on the edge of the bed as my hand prickled with returned circulation. The other one shook.

A glance at my phone told me it was about an hour before my alarm would go off. I’d forgotten to close the blackout curtains, so the lights from the neon signs on the Strip illuminated the pile of pillows that had migrated to the foot of the bed. Which one of us had tossed them there?

It didn’t matter. It also didn’t matter if we fucked or not. This woman would never be out of my system.

As quietly as possible, I grabbed my workout clothes and, still in my pajamas, rushed downstairs to the hotel gym, where I pounded out the adrenaline on the treadmill. I showered in the locker room, wishing I’d had the foresight to grab my suit. Instead, I had to return to the room for it, wearing my nerdy sleep T-shirt and carrying my balled up, sweaty workout tee.

I let myself back into the room, wincing at the loud mechanical whirr of the lock.

Tessa, already dressed in her black pantsuit, stood in front of the full-length mirror, fastening her earrings. “Morning.”

“Good morning,” I said cautiously.

“Better hurry. We’re supposed to meet Dr. Deng in twenty, and it’s a ten-minute walk.”

I let out a long breath. Good. We weren’t going to talk about last night. “I’ll get dressed. Five minutes.” I turned to the closet.

“Hey,” she said. When I turned around, her reflection grinned at me. “Can you see the dent your dick left in my butt cheek?” She lifted the bottom of her jacket.

My face burned. “I’m really sorry. I don’t know what?—”

She chuckled. “I’m kidding. Don’t worry about it. Get ready. I need you to wow an oncologist.”

Despite the smoldering humiliation in my chest, I did my best to impress Dr. Deng. And fortunately, Tessa didn’t show up to my second talk, so I could focus on what I was telling the audience. In fact, I didn’t see her again that day. And when I returned to the room, her things were gone, even the long strand of red hair coiled in the sink.

20

What Is Real?

From Barry Wright’s manifesto:

We live in an advanced virtual reality simulation. There is no objective reality.

TESSA

When I looked up from the scientific article I’d been distracting myself with, the sun speared through my office blinds right into my retinas. Shielding my eyes, I glanced at the mostly empty parking lot. I dropped my head into my hands. Dammit. I was being a coward.

I owed Dr. Perrell a write-up of the conversations I’d had at the conference, but because the breakfast with Dr. Deng had gotten technical, I needed Oliver to review what I’d written.

Sure, I could’ve emailed it to him. But that would’ve been even more cowardly. I’d wanted to hold my head up high as I handed him a printout to mark up. Show him that his no—multiple nos—hadn’t hurt me. (So what if that was a lie?)

However, I’d procrastinated so long that he was certainly gone for the day.

I stood and stretched, my back creaking from sitting too long. Methodically, I packed my laptop and a couple of scientific journals for reading that night into my satchel. I slipped on my coat and walked down the silent hall to Oliver’s office. It was empty, and the light was off. If he wasn’t in the lab, I’d come back and drop it on his desk. That way, he’d know I’d been brave enough to try to see him.

The lights were still on in the lab. Someone was still working. Clutching my report, I scanned each cabinet, bench, and computer workstation, but no one was there. Had the last person left so recently that the lights hadn’t yet automatically turned off?

“Hello?” I called.

A clunk and a muttered “Damn” answered me. I followed the sound to the supply closet. There was no mistaking the crisp lab coat that stretched across those broad shoulders.

“Hi.” I gripped the report so tightly I knew I’d leave a sweaty handprint on it.

Oliver turned, holding a box of specimen stubs in front of his chest. “Hey. I didn’t know you were in the office today. You missed the lab meeting this morning.”

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