Page 90 of Deep In Love
I assumed he turned his phone on and began recording, but based on the detailed schedule he emailed me last night—complete with interview questions to prepare—he’s far more organized than he appears.
“I was not going to wake Charlie up at the ass-crack of dawn for a social media interview,” I answer. He opens his mouth to argue when I add, “No matter how great the lighting is in the morning.”
There’s something special about sharing space with Charlie in the morning. She’s often quiet, requiring a few minutes for her brain to wake up. When she’s alert enough to make sounds, it’s often grunts and groans as she stomps around the cabin.
My girl is not a morning person, but it’s the most beautiful sight in the world when she rolls over in bed and offers me a sleepy smile. I’ve memorized its curve, the barely there tilt of her lips as she wakes and registers my presence.
It’s exceptional—a special one, only for me.
Doug silently guides me to a deck chair and stands behind the camera, adjusting the angles.
“If she says no to these interviews,” I start, “don’t question her.”
Jett attaches a microphone to the lapel of my shirt and gives me a knowing look.
“If I didn’t know any better, I would say you’re falling in love with her.” He winks but adds, “I’ll respect her decision. The video would be so much better with her in it, though. She’s remarkable.”
Remarkable.
It suits her perfectly. Beauty. Brains. Personality. Every part of her is one-of-a-kind.
Right beneath my breastbone, I feelitevery time I think of Charlie or see her happy. When she laughs, it flares with delight, demanding to hear the sound over and over.
I know what it is—I heard my abuela talk about it and witnessed it with my parents. It’s a small seed, meant to be nurtured, but it’s present, growing stronger and more apparent by the day.
I’m falling in love with her.
“Mateo.”
“What?”
I return to reality, where Jett is grinning at me like I’m an idiot.
“Are you ready to start?”
“Oh…um, yeah.” I wince, hiding my mild embarrassment behind my coffee mug.
Doug signals he’s started recording, and Jett gives me a thumbs-up.
“Hi, my name is Mateo, and I’m a PhD student at the University of Rhode Island, where I study microbial community assemblages at varying depths and environmental conditions to understand anthropogenic effects on biodiversity.”
“Cut,” Jett yells, a frown pulling the corners of his lips. “Mateo, man, you know I love you…”
“But?”
“Cut it with the scientific mumbo jumbo. You’re going to put my viewers to sleep. And maybe breathe between sentences. What do you do in the lab?”
“Uh…” He’s stunned me a bit, and it’s still early. I’ve practiced my elevator pitch for my research so often I could do it in my sleep, but I wasn’t prepared to go off-script. “Dirt.”
“Dirt?” Jett rubs between his brow. “You went from science nerd to ‘dirt’?”
“It’s early,” I mutter.
He forced me to wake up at the butt crack of dawn, destroyed my pre-planned speech, and now he wants me improvise? He’s losthis—
Oh my god, Charlie’s rubbing off on me.
“Let’s try again.”
