Page 48 of Under Pressure

“No, it was my fault—”

“No, it wasn’t. Brad shouldn’t have asked to begin with and I—” He runs a hand through his dark hair, avoiding my gaze. “I handled it wrong,” he admits, taking a seat in his desk chair. “He probably gets stressed out coming here thinking I’ll bite his head off again.”

He leans back, contemplating the situation, then snaps his fingers. “New plan. When he comes in today, we’ll both act really nice to him. So he’ll like being in the study again.”

I frown at him. “I always act nice.”

“Eh, you’ve been more neutral the last two times toward him than you were before.”

“You’re taking notice of how I act with Brad?”

He narrows his eyes but ignores my question. “If his responses to the biofeedback don’t improve this time, then I’ll go to Price, explain what happened and how he probably feels self-conscious now being in here and if that qualifies us to drop him. I—” He pauses, holding eye contact with me. “I’ll make sure he understands you aren’t at fault in any way.”

I nod, breaking the connection to look down at my lap. Well, that’s not very Slytherin of him. Shouldn’t he be putting himself first, pushing the blame on to me?

Maybe he’s changing. Evolving.

Or maybe he knows you’d fight back against any accusations like that against you, so he’s putting himself ahead of the situation.

Yeah, probably that. “I still want Brad to get full credit for completing the study. He shouldn’t be penalized after what we put him through.”

He gazes at me, his expression softening. “Ever the Hufflepuff heart,” he murmurs.

I roll my eyes at him, even though I’m secretly pleased. That time, it actually sounded like a compliment.

We work through our schedule of participants, my armpits perspiring the closer it gets to the last appointment—Brad’s allotted time. But the time comes and goes with no Brad.

We take advantage of the break while waiting for him to review notes for Motivation, not that I can concentrate much knowing we might have to drop him from the study.

Tyler is quizzing me when a phone in the lab rings. “We have a phone?” I ask, glancing around.

“Apparently.” He spots it on top of the filing cabinet and answers it, shrugging his shoulders at me.

I’ve looked at that cabinet a million times. How have I never noticed the phone?

I shamelessly listen to his side of the conversation, but can’t glean any answers from his one-word responses.

“Well?” I ask when he hangs up.

“Brad’s out of the study.”

I sit up, at attention. “What? What did he say? Was it because of us? Is he blaming me? Or you? It was probably me, wasn’t it? I should have just gone out with him—”

“Mia,” he interrupts me. “I don’t know the reason, okay? That was Dr. Price. Apparently, Brad emailed him and said he couldn’t continue the study anymore. That’s it.”

I exhale a breath. “It had to be because of what happened here, right?”

He turns away, opening the cabinet and filing the questionnaires participants turned in today. “Who cares? He solved the problem for us.”

I cross my arms, hugging them to my chest. “I care. I don’t want him to feel uncomfortable.”

“It’s over with.” He stuffs the papers into the folders with more force than necessary. “This is why we put extra people in the study. Someone always drops out for one reason or another.” He slams the drawer shut when he’s finished, hard enough to startle me. “And now we don’t have to see him ever again.”

The way he says it, eyes flashing, makes me think it means more to him than just about the study.

I pick up a pen off the desk, twirling it around in my fingers. “I never liked him, you know. Romantically, I mean.”

He doesn’t say anything, just stands there by the filing cabinet, his face set in a dark expression.

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