9:25 am, Tuesday
April 18th, 2017 – Yotsuya, Tokyo
“You smell different,” Jackie muses beside me. “Like a combination of vanilla and moss.” She furrows her brow dubiously and picks up a strand of my hair, examining it between her fingers.
I slap her away, a little too quickly. “New perfume.”
Returning my attention to the whiteboard, I attempt to ignore the constant shuffling down by my feet and concentrate on Akiko-sensei’s lesson. Despite my insisting that he remain still and quiet for the length of my three-hour class, I can feel C.M. stirring from inside my backpack, which is currently in plain sight under the desk.
I bet he’s eating. I told him not to eat!
“Where have you been the last two mornings?” Jackie asks. “I was waiting in the lobby so we could walk to class.”
I look at her wryly. Between boot camp with a talking plush toy, surviving an earthquake, and nearly compromising secret documents that could cause the outbreak of World War III, I think I deserve to be cut some slack. And here I was thinking super-nukes would be the stars of the next worldwide calamity.
“I was hungover,” I confess. “Well, I was yesterday, anyway.”
“I suppose Georgia didn’t show up yesterday either.” She purses her lips distrustfully. “But where were you this morning? I was beginning to worry you were dead or something. I even came and knocked on your door!”
I stiffen, my fingernails digging into my lap as I wrack my brain for a plausible excuse. But before I can think of one, Jackie gasps and plants a firm hand on my shoulder.
She grins. “You didn’t!?”
“Didn’t what?” I mumble, confused.
She gives me a suggestive nudge in the ribs. “You didn’t sleep in your room last night, did you?”
I blink absently toward the front of the class and quickly decide to take advantage of Jackie’s wild imagination.
I allow my mouth to curl into a hint of a smile.
“I think I reserve the right to maintain a little discretion,” I answer, purposely avoiding her gaze.
Her grip on my shoulder tightens; it’s actually beginning to hurt. “No, you have to tell me!”
I raise my eyebrows, still not meeting her gaze.
“No, I don’t.”
“Pleeease?”
I say nothing and innocently note down the grammar being written on the board. I can feel Jackie growing exponentially more frustrated beside me when suddenly she gets an idea.
She taps once on the desk with her finger. “One means no.” She taps her finger twice more. “And two means yes. Got it?”
I decide to play along, already able to tell where this is going. “Got it.”
Her voice softens to a whisper. “Did you and Sander do it?”
She’s staring at me excitedly, paying zero attention to the happenings at the front of the room — a rare occasion indeed.
I turn and cock my head at her like a bewildered puppy. “What do you mean ‘it’?”
“You know,” she hisses, “it!”
“You mean, kissing?” I ask, feigning näivety. “Well, sure! You saw us do that.”
“Stop playing dumb with me, Rachel!”
Judging by the steam that’s just about rising from Jackie’s head right now, I’m pretty sure she can tell I’m pushing her buttons. But if she can’t muster up the courage to say the word ‘sex,’ or even fall back on an ambiguous synonym like ‘bang’ or ‘screw,’ this is what she gets.
I shrug and shake my head in a pretend show of defeat. “Gosh, I’m not sure what you mean then, Jackie. I’m a good Christian girl. I went to a good Christian school…” I trail off, clicking my tongue.
Jackie grumbles in frustration under her breath and eventually gives in. “I’m just gonna take that as a yes.” She quickly resumes her notetaking. “I hope you didn’t forget with all that ‘it’ you’ve been doing; we’re presenting our talk in a couple of days.”
My pen halts as I turn to Jackie, donning what must look like a pretty guilty expression. “I haven’t had much of a chance to practice our talk yet.”
“I figured. I honestly thought you’d died, so I started rehearsing your part just in case.”
“But… it’s a dialog. How would you—?”
“I’d be standing there talking back and forth to myself like an idiot,” she interrupts. “So what? Better than failing because my partner has a hangover.”
Ouch.
Have you ever been to university? If you have, you’d know just how goddamn painful it is to work with people who can’t even contribute their presence to a group assignment. High-striving students will actually look at the course guides in advance of the semester and make the conscious decision not to take classes with group work because they know these units are like a game of Russian Roulette. And hey, I don’t blame them. If I were trying to score straight ‘A’s for med school, I’d do the same thing; I have suffered through my fair share of useless groupmates to understand this pain. I once had to work with a guy who thought a factoid printed on the back of a cereal box counted as independent research. Needless to say, I carried that team. But now it would seem that, for the first time in my academic life, the tables are turning.
Still wincing at the sting in Jackie’s words, I redirect my gaze to my notes. I know I can hardly blame her for being mad. I haven’t even responded to her text messages these past few days.
“I’m sorry, Jackie. Things have been a bit hectic.”
To my relief, she shrugs off my apology and offers me a faint smile.
“It’s fine, Rach. Hung-over, sexed up, or whatever, I know you. Somehow, you always come through. You’re…” She trails off and pulls a thinking face. “You’re capable. You get things done.”
Ignoring her insinuations to my apparent debauchery, I quickly gush with pride, pleased my friend trusts that I am competent and reliable. I’m also a little proud that Jackie has finally managed to refer to intimacy like an adult — without this ‘it’ euphemism crap. Sadly, these feelings of pride hovering between the two of us last all but a second.
Perfectly on cue, images of the morning’s events flash into my mind — the startled expression on the little boy’s face when he tugged open the blinds of his window, and the feeling of static vanishing as I stumbled like a confused goose, straight into the fountain.
My mood quickly dampens.
‘Capable’ my ass.
Although I’ve fulfilled my obligations to the Council, I can feel a tiny and illogical part of me wishing I could take another shot at the task I was assigned. It’s as if some important person, or sentient thing, somewhere in the world is judging me for my crappy performance, and now I’ve got a permanent, niggling stain against my record.
It’s only when I feel my bag begin to rustle against my leg a second time that I’m snapped out of my rumination. So, hoping to convey my wish for it to stop moving, but also in a vain attempt to vent my lingering frustration, I give it a firm kick. I then cast my eyes over the clock on the wall, willing it to hurry the hell up.
The lesson eventually passes, and before long, we’re all dismissed.
Jackie and I have been summoned to the cafeteria to meet the others for lunch, so I waste little time shouldering my backpack and rushing to the doors. But before I do, I snatch up a pen, rip a scrap of paper from my workbook, and scratch out an almost illegible message in my palm.
Getting some closure on tremors. Having lunch with friends to find out what they know.
Won’t stay long.
Tugging blindly on the drawstring behind me, I open my bag and stuff the note inside, all while sprinting nimbly down the stairs. It only takes a few seconds for C.M.’s tired groan to come curling out over my shoulder and past my ear.
“Aw, c’mon! My legs huuurt!”
I whisper for him to hush and shove open the doors to the building, sending a surge of air hissing through the ground-floor landing. I’m still feeling dissatisfied with my failings this morning, so I’m allowing my nervous energy to drive me.
If Sander is at lunch, I can find out what he knows! And if I find out what he knows, I can make sure he’s definitely not a Proxy. And if I can be sure of that… My logic quickly hits a wall.
… I don’t know what that means. But, at the very least, it’d be reassuring!
I’m about to start racing across campus but am forced to slow when Jackie’s cry echoes through the stairwell behind me. I turn to witness her nearly miss a step and stumble into the handrail.
“Slow down!” she whines. “Why are you in such a hurry?”
“Georgia and the others are having lunch in the cafeteria today,” I answer, motioning for her to pick up the pace. “You know how busy it gets. We should try to beat the crowds!”
She knows she can’t argue with this; the cafeteria always gets crazy busy. So, she groans and scurries down the stairs to catch up with me.
Together, we march through the outdoor campus, weaving through chatty groups of students and hastening down a second flight of steps leading to the university’s largest cafeteria. The room is already bustling with activity when we arrive, and the smell of ramen1 noodles has just wafted straight up my nose, making my half-empty stomach grumble loudly.
As usual, smiling women equipped with hairnets and large ladles are scooping broth noisily through a partition that always gets opened up at lunchtime; it connects the cafeteria directly to the kitchen. Students with trays, balancing enormous bowls and chopsticks, are traversing the outstretched room. The majority are waiting in line to be served, but some appear to be scanning for familiar faces across the rows of long wooden tables that take up most of the café.
There must be at least two hundred people in here.
Despite the pleasant smells around the room, I barely notice my voracious appetite. My eyes are already scouring over the room in search of curly brown hair. My heart is already racing in anticipation.
“There they are,” Jackie says, pointing to a group amongst the crowd.
I turn and look over, much too excitedly.
Elena, Georgia, Lucas… oh.
Sander isn’t there. And as soon as I realize this, I immediately feel silly.
Of course he’s not here. He’s probably still in Yoyogi.
I beat back my despondence and wave to the group. Georgia is the first to catch my eye.
She mouths that she’ll save us two seats.
About ten minutes later, I’m sliding my tray of noodles down beside Georgia and emitting a longing sigh.
But not that kind of longing.
In the time spent waiting in line to collect my food, my priorities have quickly shifted to satisfying my hunger. I am ready to put a significant dent in this lunch.
“You smell weird,” Georgia remarks. “Like vanilla… and shit.”
Jackie shrugs and settles into the space beside me. “I said ‘moss.’ ”
Somehow, I seem to have grown comfortable with this unbecoming cover story, so I roll my eyes in indifference.
“Well, I thought it smelt earthy, but I guess that settles it. I’m not wearing this perfume again.”
Lucas looks up from his bowl, a curtain of noodles hanging from his mouth. “I think you smell good!”
“Jeez, don’t talk with your mouth full,” Elena scolds beside him. “You’re not four.”
“Sorry!” he answers, and his apology sends a fleck of noodle broth hurtling into my cheek. I subtly wipe it away when Elena’s not looking.
The sound of clattering cutlery fills the air around us as Jackie and me waste no time digging into our food. My ramen tastes so good that I almost don’t notice when Elena raises a chopstick, beckoning for my attention across the table.
“We were just talking before you guys got here. What did you two think of Hiroki and Natsuko?”
I shrug and mentally take note to inhale my food before speaking.
“They seemed nice,” I answer, and Jackie nods in agreement beside me. “It’s actually kind of a relief. I mean, you guys are great and all, but I was beginning to worry I would go home at the end of this exchange without making any Japanese friends.”
Georgia too, nods in agreement. I suspected she had begun to feel the same way.
“We should invite them to hang out with us again,” she suggests.
A subtle look of distaste spreads across Elena’s face, but she says nothing. And without stopping to think, I press her.
“You didn’t like them?”
She folds her arms and directs her pointed gaze at the wall behind me. “No, they seemed nice and all, but…”
She trails off.
“But what?”
“But… I don’t know. Maybe I’m imagining it, but don’t you think they were sucking up to Sander a little?”
I attempt to recall the finer details of Sunday night.
Needless to say, it’s a struggle.
“I mean, if they were sucking up, I didn’t notice,” I say. “But, then again, maybe they felt like they had to suck up a little bit. He is kind of their boss.”
Elena furrows her brow, wearing an expression I can’t quite interpret. “That’s not exactly what I meant.”
All eyes are now directed on Elena except for Lucas. Lucas is preoccupied trying to slurp up his lunch like a local.
“I’ve just noticed that since Sander hired the two of them, Lucas and I haven’t been kept in the loop as much, I guess.”
“In the loop about what?” Georgia queries.
“About the tremors. Sander knows we care about his work and that we want to help him in any way we can, but I kind of feel like he’s started shutting us out in favor of those two.”
Before I know it, I begin to grow defensive in Sander’s absence. “I’m sure he didn’t mean to shut you guys out.”
“I’m not saying he’s purposely doing it,” Elena urges. She’s now twisting a strand of her blonde hair between her fingers. “It just kind of sucks. And it’s not like we’re underqualified either! Lucas and I have nearly finished our master’s degrees, whereas Hiroki and Natsuko are younger than us and have only just started…” Elena trails off a second time and then shakes her head, surrendering under the combined weight of our skeptical gazes. “You know what? I don’t know. I’m probably just imagining it.”
“I wouldn’t envy them if I were you,” Georgia chimes in. “I’m pretty sure Natsuko lives across the hall from me in our dorm, and I’m guessing Sander must’ve dragged her up to check out the tremor this morning because I heard someone racing out at the crack of dawn. She slammed the door so loud it woke me up!”
At this, Elena raises her eyebrows in surprise, just as I recall my own turbulent exit before the sunrise. I silently ponder whether it was, in fact, my carelessness that woke Georgia up. Her room is only around the corner from mine, and sound certainly travels through the dorm’s ghostly corridors.
“Besides,” Georgia adds, “if anyone’s been sucking up to Sander, it’s Rachel. Literally.”
I raise a curt finger at Georgia, my mouth too full of soup to retort.
“Isn’t Sander one of your teachers?” Jackie adds, her gaze directed at Elena. “Wouldn’t that be a bit weird if you fell behind or started failing classwork because you were too busy working for him? For free?”
I point a finger and raise my brows approvingly in Jackie’s direction.
“Free labor,” I mumble, through cheeks full of soup. “That’s a no-no.”
Elena raises her hands in a show of surrender. “Alright, alright! You guys are probably right. Don’t not invite Hiroki and Natsuko out because of me. I guess my problem is more with Sander anyway.”
With that apparently settled, I swallow my soup and peer down at my backpack on the floor.
I begin to wonder whether I should buy C.M. a snack.
I can already tell I’m doomed to face his wrath when we get home, as judging by his late-night strolls through the dorm, he doesn’t seem to like being forcibly cooped up at my side like this.
Maybe if I buy him something, he’ll go easy on me. Or, better yet, I could get him some booze. That’ll shut him up.
My plotting is quickly interrupted when Georgia leans toward me, a simpering smile plastered on her face.
“Speaking of Sander, how’s singlehood treating you? Great, I assume?”
At first, I’m unsure what she’s talking about but then realize all at once under a crashing wave of guilt. Before I can open my mouth to confess the truth — the truth that I never broke things off with Matt before getting cozy with Sander — she rattles off another question.
“You two aren’t going to date, are you? You’re just sex friends, right?”
I freeze and then manage a slow nod as I secretly ponder the question for myself. “I don’t think we’re anything at the moment. Not yet, anyway.”
“But when it does happen,” Georgia probes, “it won’t be a romantic thing, will it? I mean, given the age gap and the fact that your homes are in different countries?”
“I assume not,” I answer quickly, but the thought still lingers intrusively in my mind. I almost can’t believe it when I notice a trace of dissatisfaction accompanying the idea.
I instantly begin to feel doubly selfish as I wonder whether by sleeping with him, I’ll be forced to forfeit the little intangibles of our friendship that I can tell I’ve grown somewhat addicted to.
I’m talking about the hugging, the affectionate pet-naming, the hand-holding, and more recently, the time we seem to enjoy spending curled up in one another’s arms and laps. I’m under no illusion that these little shows of whatever meant anything. In fact, I’d say these were a series of gentle nudges in the direction of what we’d both actually prefer to be doing to one another.
And yet, the fact that thinking on these moments seems to stoke the thrumming in my chest harder than the memory of us drunk and intertwined on Sunday night is making me think that I don’t want them to stop just because we have sex.
Don’t ask me why.
I’m not expecting it when my thoughts suddenly jump to the picture of the auburn-haired woman on Sander’s fridge, then to my boyfriend shuffling about sadly back at home. Considering the two in tandem just about forces me to try and sieve through my conflicting feelings.
It’s confusing.
It’s like sifting through a basket of mismatched socks.
I could almost more readily accept that I want to have my cake and eat it too because that’s straightforward. That just makes me an asshole. The troubling thing is that if I’d had it my way, I wouldn’t have hesitated to end things with Matt two days ago.
And that’s the most confusing part about all of this.
Why is it that in the space of a few short days, something has compelled me to try and throw away the mediocre but not-terrible thing I have with Matt for a guy I just want to sleep with? I mean, I’ve known this was a long time coming, but why now? As I’ve said, I’m under no illusion that Sander and I will ever be anything serious. It’s too impractical. I doubt that’s what he’s looking for. And, let’s not forget the kicker, he’s thirteen years my senior. So, if we were to think about this the way Georgia would — economically — what I did by attempting to break up with Matt was the equivalent of trading in my reliable little Hyundai for a joyride in a Ferrari lasting about, oh, an hour, tops?
Jackie begins to fidget beside me, and before I can shoot her a warning look, the truth comes tumbling out of her mouth on my behalf.
“She didn’t break up with her boyfriend! She found out his dad is sick, so she chickened out!”
Mortified, I cork Jackie in the shoulder, making her yelp. Elena and Lucas both gasp, and Georgia’s eyes widen. I’m bracing myself for an onslaught of judgment right now, but everyone is remaining strangely quiet.
Lucas is the first to cut through the silence.
“Oh man,” he laments. “The poor guy.”
I notice Georgia squinting off far away. If I had to guess, I’d say her rational-economic mindset isn’t handling this dilemma very well.
“Couldn’t you leave things with Sander for a bit?” Elena suggests. “Let your boyfriend come to terms with things and then break it off in a couple of months?”
“His dad has Alzheimer’s,” I answer, having already thought through this possibility myself. “He’s only going to get sicker until he eventually passes away. I’m guessing that’s only going to get harder on Matt and his family as the disease gets worse. And so, I wouldn’t want to drop a bombshell like that at the wrong time.” I pinch the bridge of my nose, flustered. “But I don’t know when the right time is. And it’s not like I just want to abandon him.”
It’s true. I don’t.
“I want to go home at the end of this and be in a position where I can help him and be there for him as a friend. But I can’t do that if he hates me. And yet, I also don’t want to feel like I’m… putting my life on hold.”
Also true. Painfully, selfishly true.
I survey the pursed lips and scratching of heads around the table. It seems I’ve successfully communicated my predicament.
There’s a long silence, but eventually, Georgia slams a palm down on the table, making everyone jump as her contemplative gaze finally relaxes.
“Okay, I’ve got it. I know what you should do.”
I look at her excitedly. If experience has taught me anything, it’s that Georgia’s advice is usually worth following.
“Tell me! What should I do?”
She sighs critically, as if unable to believe that I haven’t yet thought up this supposed solution for myself.
It’s not my fault my brain isn’t a goddamn computer.
“My advice is two-part,” she begins. “Do you want the good part or the bad part first?”
“I don’t care. Just tell me!”
She sighs again. “The good part is that I think you should just do it and not tell your boyfriend.”
“You’re kidding!?” Elena and Lucas both blurt.
“No, I’m not. What good would it do if Rachel’s going to break up with him when the time’s right?” Georgia turns to me. “He’s a good guy, right? But things fizzled out. You weren’t compatible.”
I nod quickly, and Georgia continues.
“Well then, there’s no point upsetting him by telling him the truth; it would serve no purpose other than to ruin your friendship. Plus, it’d just hurt his confidence. He’ll just think he was inadequate or something, and it’ll mess with his head when he moves on and starts dating again.”
“Okay,” I grunt quickly. “Bad news? What’s the bad news?”
“The bad news is that I think you should tell Sander the truth before you let things go any further with him.”
Now Lucas and Elena are wincing.
“I thought you two already did it!” Jackie barks.
I grumble out of the corner of my mouth. “We didn’t.”
“Then if you weren’t in Sander’s room, where were you this morn—”
“Shhhh!”
Without turning to look at her, I brush a hand over Jackie’s face beside me, signaling for her to let it go as I motion for Georgia to continue.
“Sander seems to care a lot about love, and soulmates, and all that garbage.” Georgia’s nose wrinkles in distaste. “My guess is that he’d be upset if he found out the truth some other way. And, well, that’d just ruin your friendship.” She cocks her head at me. “You want to stay friends with him, right?”
I nod again, and I can tell by everyone’s faces that it’s not just me poring over Georgia’s suggestion.
It’s strange. And yet, it makes sense.
“I already kissed him,” I remind guiltily. “Twice.”
Georgia shrugs. “I think he’ll forgive you if you tell him the truth before things get more serious.”
I furrow my brow, and so does everyone else. “But… why would he?”
“I think” — Georgia pauses and clears her throat — “keeping in mind that I’m a numbers person; I’m useless at reading people.”
“Just tell me!” I demand again. I think I can feel a sheen spreading across my palms.
Elena, Lucas, and Jackie are all leaning forward in their seats. The tension in the air is palpable.
“I get the feeling you’re not just an opportunity to him, Rach. The way he looks at you…” A low noise reverberates in her throat. “It’s disgusting.”
“Good disgusting!?” I blurt, my face growing suddenly hot.
“Uh, yeah. I guess if you’re into that. But I thought you just wanted to be sex frie—” She cuts herself off. “Well, speak of the devil.”
…
Oh, God… Oh, God. Oh, God. Not now.
In one swift motion, I yank open my mental vault of banished thoughts and briskly shove aside the still unresolved issue of chest hair to make room for the last few minutes of morally ambiguous discussion. I then bare my teeth at everyone around the table, signaling for them to drop the conversation.
Lucas, lacking subtlety, straightens his shoulders and clears his throat awkwardly. Elena, on the other hand, wastes no time calling Sander over.
I slowly turn to the sound of approaching footsteps and run my fingers through my hair with fake indifference. I’m attempting to take in a test-smell just in case he hugs me.
Yep. Still smell like pond scum.
The second I lock eyes with Sander, I notice his cobalt gaze scrutinizing me. This makes my already hot face begin to burn, and yet I can’t even tear my eyes away just to perv on what he’s wearing today.
I’m too stricken with fear.
Could he know? Does he know I was at Yoyogi somehow? He couldn’t have seen me. I was out of there before— And then he beams. And just like magic, I completely forget what I was worrying about.
As he approaches Jackie’s end of the table, she begins scrambling up to make room for him.
“You can sit here!” she offers pushily, pointing to the vacated space beside me.
He declines politely. “That’s okay. I can’t stay long.”
For a second, Jackie says nothing and just glances back and forth between Sander and me. She then makes the bizarre decision to begin rapidly strolling away. “That’s fine! I’m going to the bathroom anyway, so take my spot. I’ll be right back, and you guys can just…”
She’s out of earshot before she finishes.
I’ve got to hand it to her. Jackie is a fiercely loyal wing-woman.
Directing a puzzled glance toward Jackie, who is already halfway across the room, Sander shrugs and settles into the space beside me, not stopping to remove the satchel slung over his shoulder.
“Not staying for lunch?” I ask, sheepish.
His warm gaze settles on me, making my brain turn very soft.
Can he smell me? I bet he can smell me.
“I wish I could, Rach, but I need to get back to the lab. I actually just came to speak to Lucas and Elena.”
Just as disappointment threatens me, he reaches out and slides a strand of my hair away from my face, and the recent memory of his soft fingertips trailing all over my face and neck proceeds to hijack my concentration.
“How’s your hangover?” he asks. “Are you feeling better today?”
“Ah, yeah. Much better.” Finally noticing his dust-covered dress shirt and jeans, I quickly shake myself back to reality. “A-are you okay? What happened at Yoyogi? I actually saw you on the news!”
Sander looks at me quizzically. I swear, for someone on the brink of earning the title ‘Doctor,’ he spends a lot of time with a bemused look on his face.
It’s fucking adorable.
“No, I mean Yoshizawa was the one being interviewed, but then you pulled up in the background!”
Understanding colors his expression. “Oh, right. Yeah, there was a lot of media around.” He runs a finger absently along the table’s edge, and his voice suddenly sobers. “It’s fitting, really. Yoshizawa’s always the one in the spotlight, but lowly Masa and Sander…”
He makes a dismissive noise and then pouts down at Jackie’s unfinished bowl of food.
“I watched the whole interview,” I interject, instinctively trying to cheer him up. “I think Yoshizawa’s losing confidence. He looked seriously freaked out when he saw you and the others show up! Then, when he was asked about the purple light, he—”
I cut myself off the second I realize I’m on the verge of saying too much.
Oh, God. Shut up, Rachel!
Sander has already perked back up again. He’s looking at me wide-eyed and expectant.
“What? What did Yoshizawa say?”
“H-he… When he was asked about the glowing, he had no explanation for it. He was nervous and vague for the entire interview. It didn’t even last a minute.”
Sander grins, and I feel my nerves begin to dissolve in his now gleaming blue eyes.
He suddenly stares off and begins muttering aloud as if formulating a plan. “This is good… Yes, this is good. I can work with this!” He clicks his fingers at Lucas and Elena. “I hate to ask, but I could really use your help.”
Elena straightens and grins wider than I’ve ever seen before. “Sander, it’s our pleasure to be involved. It’s great experience for us!”
Sander exhales a quick breath. “Thank goodness. We’ve got our hands full this time.”
“Anything you need, just say the word,” Lucas adds eagerly.
“I need data prep,” Sander instructs. “Reams and reams of it. We need to compute time data for the shockwaves, convert them to measures of depth, group them, and then nest them into intervals. You sure you don’t mind—”
“I said anything,” Lucas reminds, a rare seriousness in his tone. “We can come help right now if you need us to.”
I glance across to Georgia. She shakes her head at me, looking equally as confused.
“This tremor was different from the others,” Sander announces, to all of us now. “Whoever did this stopped it or put the brakes on it somehow before it could do serious damage.”
I feel my throat tighten and forcibly purse my lips closed.
He’s so close.
“Yoshizawa can’t explain this one. And coupled with the claims about the glowing sky…” Sander raises his eyebrows at Elena and Lucas. “We need to work quickly.”
“Then let’s go,” Elena urges. She’s already gathering up her things.
Lucas quickly follows suit.
As the three begin to move, Sander turns and shoots me a tender look — one I can only peg as gratitude.
“Thank you, Rach, for letting me know about Yoshizawa. My Japanese sucks, so I don’t know what he’s saying unless he’s rejecting my papers or scolding me over the internet. It’s helpful to know what’s going around in the media too.”
“I’m clearly the MVP in all of this,” I joke. “When you win your Nobel Prize, I expect a thank-you in your acceptance speech.”
He chuckles. “You’ll get one. I promise.”
Okay, that was a joke, but— Oh, never mind, he’s hugging me.
Without warning, Sander slips his arms around my waist and squeezes me beside him. Through the subsequent haze of emotions and rapid heartbeats, both of which I’m steadily learning to anticipate whenever Sander touches me, Georgia’s earlier observation somehow escapes the vault and floats to mind.
What are we even doing? Sex friends don’t hug, do they?
It occurs to me that I don’t know how long it’ll be before Sander next emerges from his science cave, so I force myself to stop questioning shit and just soak up the experience.
He’s still holding me tightly when he channels a whisper into my ear. “I take it you got my note?”
“You mean your thesis?” I answer teasingly, recalling the length of his note. “Sure did. Soulmate Theory, huh? Sounds like your next big breakthrough.”
“So, you accept it? No critiques? No questions?”
“Yeah, nah. It’s…” I inhale deeply and feel myself unconsciously relax into Sander’s arms. “… well-theorized, or whatever. Gold star for you.”
We continue hugging, and it doesn’t take long before I’m feeling the impatient stares of Elena and Lucas and having to peel Sander off me. But, somehow looking satisfied with my thoughtless appraisal of his work, he plants a quick kiss on my cheek before I do.
“You missed,” I inform.
He smirks. “Raincheck. I promise.”
I roll my eyes and wave him away in jest.
He stands to join Lucas and El. And just as the three go to leave, he turns around and shoots me a smile.
“That’s a nice perfume, by the way.” He’s palming his neck and directing yet another bemused look up at the ceiling. He looks as if he’s just been thrown some curly question. “It reminds me of the countryside for some reason.”
And before I can respond, he’s tugged away by Elena.
The countryside?
Georgia, the only friend left standing, slurps innocently on a spoonful of soup beside me.
“You know what? I take back what I said before. You’re not the one sucking up to Sander. He’s sucking up to you.” She turns to me and snorts. “Because I can assure you, you smell like shit.”