Page 46 of In Control

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When I arrivein the office space I share with three other PhD students on Thursday morning, I’m all flustered. This isn’t me. I handle stress. I handle the difficult situations. I solve the problems.

But today I’m nervous. Nervous about seeing Esra again.

Because after spending another night with Liam I realise I like the man.

For the first time in as long as I can remember, I imagine things with him going somewhere. I imagine things lasting, at least in the short term. The thought of ending things has a pain aching in my chest.

I’m dwelling on the best way to avoid the professor as I switch on my laptop and wait for the thing to whirl on. As the colours stream across the screen, I click absentmindedly on my emails and swear so loud I make Scott at the desk behind me, leap in the air.

“Everything all right, Sophia?” he asks. I turn around to look at him and watch as he slides his glasses up the bridge of his nose. It took him half a year before he could make eye contact with me and another half before he could actually speak to me. Now, a year later, we’re on good terms. Despite his poor social skills and obsession with everything Star Wars related, I like the guy.

“I’m being pulled into some faculty meeting in Professor Cole’s office.”

“It’ll be about the Quantum Ion Trap machine. Rumour has it, he’s pissed with other research teams monopolising its time.”

“Great! He doesn’t own the machine.”

“I think he was promised his team would have priority-use when they wooed him here.”

“Wooed him?” I scoff. “Like anyone needs to be wooed to Crestmore.”

“There were several top universities fighting over him, including some in the States that would have made him a very rich man.”

“I wonder why he didn’t go.”

Everyone keeps telling me how driven and determined the man is.

Scott shrugs.

“Well, he’s not intimidating me.” I shuffle papers on my desk. “I’m so close to finishing this PhD. I need that machine.”

Scott adjusts his glasses. “He terrifies me,” he says honestly.

“Yeah,” I say. He terrifies me too. Although, I suspect for different reasons to Scott’s.

I twist back to my screen. “If you hear any death-curdling screams come rescue me.”

“I doubt I’d be any help. I’ll call the police.”

“They’d never reach me in time. No, grab the staple gun and get your arse in there. You owe it to me after I proofread that paper for you last month.”

“You think a staple gun would work? The man appears to own quite a few muscles. Would a staple even penetrate through to cause any damage?”

“You’re right.” Scott has a very logical brain. “Bring one of the lasers from the lab instead. Our only hope is burning out his retinas.”

“Hmmm,” Scott considers this, “I think that could work.”

I smile to myself, typing out some answer to a few of the emails I’ve received and then, at half-past nine, push back my seat and pull myself reluctantly to my feet.

“Wish me luck,” I mumble.

“Good luck,” Scott responds.

I grab my notebook and a pen and walk down the corridor towards his office. It’s one of the nicest in the building – of course it is – with a walnut door and brass name plate.

I adjust the collar of my blouse and run my fingers through my hair. Apart from yesterday morning, I haven’t spoken to the professor in days, although I’ve seen him lurking about, his eyes always seeming to track my every move. I don’t think he’ll be pleased to see me – not that I give a shit. I wonder if he knows I’m attending this meeting.

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