Page 47 of Under Pressure

And that we can so easily go from lovers back to friends has to mean something, right? That we’re compatible in and out of the bedroom? Like… a girlfriend.

He doesn’t want a girlfriend.

I know, but if he did—

Don’t get your hopes up. That way lies heartache.

For once, I listen to that voice, concentrating instead on Dr. Hoskins. School needs to come first, not worrying about Tyler like he’s some middle school crush. Does he like me? Does he not? I’m twenty-one years old, not twelve.

There’s nothing more between us.

And I’m fine with that.

Really.

* * *

I head into the lab early Tuesday to review our data, searching for trends, anomalies, or anything else worth noting.

I couldn’t help but debate with myself last night trying to go to sleep about whether or not I should bring up an end date with Tyler. Yes, it would ensure there are no hard feelings or assumptions, keep things simpler, but… I don’t want things to end. I like what we’re doing.

And if I brought that idea up, a whole other slew of questions might pop up after that. Are we exclusive? Do we tell people about us? What happens if one of us starts feeling more for the other person?

Well, that won’t be an issue for him at least. He couldn’t get out of that bed fast enough after we were finished Sunday. Or was that just because of the cupcakes? I can’t remember now.

Ugh, why am I worrying about this? I know myself, and I don’t really want the answers to these questions. I’m too scared of what he’ll say.

The door to the lab opens and I nearly jump out of my seat. Tyler raises his eyebrows but doesn’t comment on it as he sets his backpack down on his desk.

“You looking at data?” he asks, coming up behind me to look at my computer screen.

I fidget in my chair, his body so near I can feel the heat emanating from him. Any closer and he’d be touching me, his hands running through my hair, tilting my head back to expose my neck, pressing slow kisses to the tender area…

“Mia?” I jump again, glancing back at him, his forehead furrowed. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah. Yes. I’m fine.” I clear my throat. “I’m looking at what we’ve collected so far.”

“Is there a problem?”

“Actually, yes. This person.” I point to the screen. “Participant 63895. I think I know who it is, but I want to make sure. Do you have the key that tells who’s who?”

He nods, a worried expression crossing his face. “I put it in the filing cabinet here.” He unlocks it, and after finding the list, scans it. His brow furrows down even more. “It’s Brad.”

“I thought so,” I sigh. “His performance is trending the opposite away, ever since the day he… he asked—”

“Yeah, I remember that day,” he says in a hard tone.

My breath catches. Is he still mad because he thinks Brad crossed the line, or because it was with me? “Um, anyway, his stress is steadily increasing now. He could skew the entire set of data.”

He lets out a long sigh, interlacing his fingers behind his head, pacing between our desks. “Can we drop him?”

I purse my lips. “I don’t know,” I tell him honestly. “Are we even allowed to? If researchers could just exclude any participant they wanted because they’re not performing exactly as expected, the study wouldn’t really mean anything. It would be a vanity project.”

“Yeah, but if we told Dr. Price—”

“I don’t want to explain any of that to him.” I cross my arms over my chest, blocking out that whole incident.

“I will, then.”

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