Page 6 of Under Pressure

Thankfully, Mia brought her laptop, so we can type up everything and look up examples of what Dr. Price is asking for. Both of us have volunteered in labs before running experiments, but have never designed one from scratch.

We sit down and get to work, two hours going by quickly as we power through the list. Just when we’re getting to creating an informed consent form, a blonde walks by and does a double take, circling back to take a seat across from us.

“Mia,” she drawls. “Who’s your friend here?” She taps her bright pink nails on the table annoyingly. Can’t she see we’re busy?

Mia shifts in her chair. “My partner for the new research study I’m working on.”

“And do you have a name?” she asks me flirtatiously, twirling a finger around a strand of her blonde hair.

“Tyler,” I grunt, looking back at the computer screen. Should we go for full-out written consent or just employ verbal consent?

“Tyler... Tyler,” the girl mutters, then slaps her palms down on the table, making Mia jump. “Not the Tyler you had a crush on last year?”

I glance over at Mia, her face slowly reddening, body stiff. Her eyes dart over to me briefly before she nervously licks her lips. “No, not that Tyler,” she grits out. “It was someone else.”

“Oh my God.” The girl leans an elbow on the table, redirecting her attention to me. “She used to go on and on about this guy’s voice and how smart he was—”

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Mia interrupts, her own voice tight with tension, looking like she’s wavering between punching the girl and crying.

“Huh?” The blonde tilts her head quizzically, then widens her eyes. “Oh.” She looks back at me. “Oh, yeah, I have, um, that thing to go to. See you later.”

Mia stares down at her paper, her face still red, refusing to turn my way no matter how long I stare at her.

Despite not caring one bit, I can’t resist the urge to tease. “You had a crush on me?”

She closes her eyes, wincing. “That was a long time ago,” she whispers. “Before I knew you.”

My brows rise. “So, what, now that you know me, there’s less to like?”

I’m aware it’s a stupid question as soon as I see her temper spark. She turns to me and demands, “Tell me, what exactly is there to like?”

I’m surprised by her tone. Where did the shy Hufflepuff go?

“Make sure you leave out the rude and surly bits when selling yourself. I don’t think those will help your case much.”

My mouth goes dry staring at her, how defiant she looks, all those curls on her head practically vibrating with energy too, like a Medusa. The effect is glorious.

Whoa, where’d that come from?

I shake my head, putting on a smirk, and throw an arm casually over the back of my chair. “I’ve got plenty of women interested. I don’t need some Hufflepuff crush.”

“Name one.”

My smirk drops at her hard tone, her eyes flashing fire. I straighten in my seat. “Excuse me?”

“Name me one woman actually interested in you. Even one past girlfriend you’ve had.”

I scoff. “I don’t do girlfriends. They’re a waste of time.”

“Big surprise,” she mutters. “You probably have a stable of fuck buddies you rotate through that don’t care about your charming personality.”

I almost choke on my own spit at the words coming out of that wholesome mouth. “What?”

“Nothing.” She plasters a fake smile on her face and stands, closing her laptop before stuffing her things in her backpack. “I’ve got a three-hour lecture class tonight and still need to grab dinner before it. Email me when you’ve finished with your half of what Dr. Price wants and then we’ll work on combining it all.”

She scribbles her email address on my notebook page and slings her bag over her shoulder, marching toward the exit.

Well, the girl’s certainly got a mouth on her when riled up. I find myself grinning watching her saunter away, then immediately wipe my face clear when I realize what I’m doing. What I said earlier is true. I couldn’t care less about some girl’s silly crush.

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