Page 5 of A Lab Rat's Guide to Fated Love
Vir groaned again, dragging a palm roughly down his face.Fine.He could do that. He didn’t have to agree to the unnecessary torture, he’d already had enough of it for a lifetime. But he could pretend to consider his options, ifit meant getting Adi off his back once and for all. And then he’d promptly disappear into a beachy sunset before anyone caught on what he was up to.
“Fine. I’ll talk to them,” he replied. “But I’m not going to promise you anything.”
“Thank you.” The hint of a smile peaked through Adi’s voice. “And I’m sorry, I am. But we both know you’d have done the same for me.”
“I know.”
He didn’t have a single doubt about that. He’d have dragged his brother across states to force his ass into any program that remotely offered him a chance to live, if he had to. Adi was at least asking him nicely, for the most part.
Disconnecting the call, Vir pushed himself off the bed, tossing the book Fehim wanted into his backpack on his way to the bathroom. He’d hand it to him before his visit to the admin office later.
After a quick shower, he swiped a palm across the foggy bathroom mirror to meet his own impassive dark eyes staring back at him. Days’ old stubble lined his sharp jaw, hair jutting out in stark contrast to the pale gauntness of his face, the face of a dying man, withering away with each numbered beat.
Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.
With a weary sigh, he traced a bony finger along the vertical scar over his sternum before slowly dragging it to the left over the small scribble he’d gotten tattooed last week. He fought against the urge to scratch the flaky ink. It’d been a spur-of-the-moment decision. The drawing itched like a bad rash, but it appeared to be healing well. He slapped some Vaseline on, recalling the name of the symbol, Algiz—the most powerful rune of protection, or so he’d been told. As if that mattered.
He dried off and pulled on a pair of jeans with a loose white t-shirt, before stepping out of the apartment.
“Hey!” Fehim Ahmad stood leaning against the corridor wall right outside his door. At six-foot-three, nearly as tall as Vir, Fehim was a good-looking south Indian guy and a fellow PhD scholar at the same university, different department. He wore a pair of large rectangular glasses that had a habit of slipping down his long, pointed nose regardless of what he did to them.
“I said I’d bring it to you.” Vir shook his head, reaching into his backpack.
“I just heard.” Fehim flashed him a grin. “You got accepted!”
“Yeah, sorry Adi dragged you into this.” Vir grimaced, handing him the battered old hardcover.
“Hey, I’m glad he did. I know a few seniors at the bio-research center. Have you decided which option you’re going with?”
“I’m going to decline.”
“What? Wait—why? Are you serious?”
“I’m serious. Don’t tell Adi if he calls you again. I told him I’d consider my options, but there’s really nothing to consider.”
“But—”
“Let it go, Fehim.” He pushed the fresh tinge of guilt aside at his friend’s withering expression while they made their way downstairs.
“Are you headed to class?” Fehim changed the subject.
“Nope. To the admin office. I’m dropping out.”
Fehim shook his head. “I’m starving. Let’s grab a bite first.”
Nori
The fact that Nori’s potential newsubject now had options and the trajectory of her career relied on his free will, wasn’t the only reason why she’d been teetering on the verge of tears since stepping foot in this god-awful campus a few days ago.
There was another. One shaped like the boy she’d sworn she was never going to speak to again—the rotten, abandoning, dramatic ass that he was. Out of hundreds of research-based universities in the country, he had to be a PhD student inthisexact one.
Double tapping her phone woke its display to the last opened page of her messaging app, where a series of text bubbles sat neatly stacked one over the other. Months’ worth of chat, all undelivered. The call history had a similar story to share.
Ryan Matthews, her best—ex-best friend. Brother from another set of parents, if you will. RyanAssMatthews, the boy who’d stuck to her like astubborn piece of gum ever since she’d sat next to him on her first day of school in Canada. The boy who’d followed her around, trying to make her swap trading cards with him even though she’d had none.
Socializing hadn’t come easy to her, even at that age. And if this overly chatty boy with a mushroom-cut hadn’t adopted her as his own, she knew she would’ve gone through the entire length of her school years as a complete recluse. The clown’s tireless persistence had grown on her, and the two had been inseparable since. Till their dumb conversation roughly a year ago.
Nori winced at her brain’s insistence she revisit the memoryagain.
