Chapter 30
“Good Morning, Milo. You have a visitor. Should I let him in?” NOVA’s pretty voice rang through my cozy room.
Golden beams of light filtered through the white built-in shutters on my window, speckling my duvet with warm shots of liquid honey.
I groaned, rolling over to check the time on my phone.
“Who is it?” I asked NOVA, and she chuckled at my sleepy slur.
“Jay Reynolds, Chief Memory Therapy Research Officer.”
That woke me up.
My eyes flew open, and I launched myself out of bed, full-blown panicking.
What the frick was he doing here?
The doorbell rang, and I rushed around my room, ripping into my suitcases to find something to wear.
“Why is the CMTRO here?!” I gasped, and NOVA answered cheerfully as I hopped on one foot, trying to pull on a sock.
“He seems to have brought coffee and baked goods. My guess would be he’s here for breakfast.”
“WHY!?” I yelped, hunting for a pair of jeans.
The doorbell rang again, and NOVA helpfully informed me that there was a pair of jeans hiding underneath my laptop bag in the northern corner of my room.
“Human beings need food for sustenance. Sharing meals is also typically a practice humans use to bond with one another. It’s safe to assume he is here to ensure you’re meeting your nutritional needs.
He might also be interested in fostering a healthy relationship with you, as a new member of his team. ”
The jeans were on, and I threw on a button-up shirt my mom had bought me as a congratulatory gift when I’d received my contract.
It was navy blue and had tiny pink brains embroidered in a polka-dot pattern. Shoving my glasses up my nose, I rushed to the door, still buttoning up my shirt, when the bell rang again.
Jeeze, he was impatient!
“Let him in!” I gasped at NOVA as I slid clumsily into the foyer.
NOVA unlocked the door, and it swung inwards to reveal a thoroughly amused Jay Reynolds.
He was a walking contradiction to the warm gold and pink sunrise filtering through the trees that framed Amygdala Ave.
Today, he was wearing black jeans and a t-shirt with one of his wrinkled but fitted blazers on top. It was clear he’d only put the blazer on in a weak attempt to meet the business casual dress code, as he’d opted for high tops again today.
His high tops today were white, and so was his backwards ball cap, which featured an embroidered biohazard symbol. A big tuft of his crazy-scientist hair had found its way out through the hole in the snapback, and the chestnut tips looked gold in the sunlight.
Just as NOVA had said, he was holding a tray with two to-go coffee cups and a small paper bag that smelled like cinnamon buns.
“Morning, Milo,” he hummed, and his soft copper eyes skated over my body as I rushed to finish doing up the buttons to my brain shirt.
My cheeks flushed as his gaze swept over my exposed chest, and I silently cursed myself for not finishing getting ready before answering the door.
So unprofessional.
“Uhm, hey… Is there a meeting or something I didn’t know about? I didn’t think I needed to be at NeuroWell until 9am?”
He didn’t wait for me to invite him inside. He just grinned at me and walked right into my cube, making his way into the kitchen/living room split like he owned the place.
“Nah. Just thought you might want breakfast before we head over. I got these from Grain Matter. It’s the best cafe on campus.”
I frowned and padded after him, feeling awkward and confused as he helped himself to a few plates from my cupboard.
“I didn’t know how you took your coffee, so I just got black this time, but if you tell me your order, I can bring something a little fancier tomorrow.”
“Uhm—”
“Are you okay with dairy? Their vanilla lattes are absolutely amazing. But if you have an intolerance or something, I can get them to make it with almond milk or whatever.”
He popped the buns into my tiny microwave and set it to twenty seconds. The delicious smell of cinnamon intensified, and soon my entire cube smelled like tasty baked goods.
He frowned, tapping a chipped black nail against his lip.
“These are gluten-free, but I didn’t even think about wheat. Do you have a wheat intolerance?”
“Wh-what? N-no.”
What was happening right now? Why were we talking about food allergies?
His entire face lit up, and he looked relieved.
“Oh, good. I can’t wait for you to try these. They’re fucking amazing.”
“Mr. Reynolds—”
“Jay.”
“Okay, uhm, Jay… Why… Why are you here?”
He blinked at me as the microwave beeped, signaling that our buns were ready.
“For breakfast.”
NOVA chimed in. “That’s what I said.”
I rolled my eyes up to the speaker installed in my ceiling and scowled at my AI.
“Do you bring breakfast to all the new hires?”
“Of course not.” Jay pulled out the buns and handed me a fork and knife, looking almost giddy with excitement as I dumbly took the cutlery from him.
“So why are you bringing me breakfast?”
He leaned his elbows on the counter, grinning at me good-naturedly, and shrugged.
“I thought we could be friends.”
“You’re the CMTRO.”
“So? I can’t have friends because I’m C-level?” His brow creased as if he was confused why I was having an issue with this.
“It just feels… strange. I just started here. I’m a nobody.”
His expression darkened, and he pursed his lips.
“You’re not a nobody, Milo. Please don’t talk about my friend like that.” He glanced down at my untouched cinnamon bun and waved his hand at my plate. “Eat.”
It came out like an order, and heat curled low in my gut at the sudden authority in his tone.
“Uhm, okay.” I cut off a small piece and shoved a bite into my mouth. Warm ooey gooey cinnamon goodness exploded on my tongue, and I groaned involuntarily, rolling my head back in ecstasy.
“Mmphh, that’s good,” I moaned softly, and Jay licked his lips, his expression taking on that strange look he’d had the other day when he’d stroked my hair in the surgical chair.
“I knew you would like it,” he murmured, his voice low and soft. He was staring at my mouth in a way that made me feel like I probably had frosting all over my face, so I hastily grabbed a napkin to wipe it off.
“Yeah, this is amazing. Thank you,” I said, being fully serious. “But I still don’t get why you’re interested in being friends with me. No one ever is.”
“I find that hard to believe,” Jay said. His previously soft tone darkened. He sounded almost angry at the thought of no one wanting to be my friend. It was… nice.
“Well, believe it. No one wants to be friends with Murphquake… or risk getting swept up in Murphy’s Law.”
Jay narrowed his eyes. He reached across the counter and laid a warm hand on top of mine, causing me to pause before taking my next bite.
Electricity sparked between us, and the air felt thick enough to choke on.
“Look at me,” he ordered, and I did, suddenly unable to look away from his handsome face.
“If anyone ever calls you that while you’re here, I want you to tell me.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Mr. Reynolds—”
“Jay,”
“Okay, Jay, snitching people out to the head of the department isn’t going to do me any favors. Trust me. It’ll only make it worse.”
He raised an eyebrow, and without looking away, he addressed my AI.
“NOVA?”
“Yes, Mr. Reynolds?”
“If anyone calls Milo either of those things, I want you to notify me, please.”
“Of course, Mr. Reynolds.”
I scowled at him. “So NOVA can call you Mr. Reynolds, but I can’t?”
“NOVA isn’t my friend.”
“Rude,” NOVA scoffed, but Jay ignored her.
I almost said neither am I, but stopped myself. It didn’t seem like a good idea to keep rejecting the head of the department’s offer of friendship, no matter how uncomfortable it was making me.
“In the employee manual, it says that relationships on campus should remain professional,” I protested, and Jay grinned.
“Who said it won’t be professional? We’re work friends. I read your application essay, Milo. It was the most impressive one I’ve read in years. I’m very interested in your perspective on memory alteration. I’m hoping to work closely on the development of a new product I’ve been struggling with.”
This caught my attention. Excitement zipped through me, and Jay chuckled as my eyes widened.
“Really?”
He nodded.
“Yeah, I’m tentatively calling it the NeuroManipulator 1.0. Your hypothesis that memory can be massaged instead of harvested is exactly the type of thinking I need on this project.”
“Ohmygod!” I nearly squealed with excitement, and Jay’s eyes crinkled at the corners.
“And that level of excitement is another reason I want you to work with me on this. You’re clearly here for the right reasons.”
I thought of Melanie’s comment the other day about how she had ambitions to take over managing our department, and I nodded.
“Yeah. I’m here for the work. I’m genuinely obsessed with the human mind and how it works. I always have been.”
Jay gave me one of his toe-curling, confident smiles and nodded.
“Me too. Hence, why I want to be friends. We clearly share… mutual interests.” The way he ran his tongue over his lip made me feel like he was talking about more than just science.
But painful memories of the last time I’d thought someone was interested in me surfaced, and I sobered.
Jay wasn’t into me like that.
Besides, it was forbidden for employees to engage in romantic relationships on campus, especially with their superiors.
“Okay… so… work friends?” I asked, hesitantly, and the intensity in Jay’s eyes made my stomach swirl with a strange feeling that felt like anxiety but wasn’t.
“Yeah. Sure. Work friends,” he agreed, his lips quirking.
I let out a sigh of relief and nodded.
“Okay. That sounds nice.”
I took another bite of my cinnamon bun and groaned again, causing Jay to chuckle softly.
“These really are delicious.”
“Told you. I’ll make sure to bring you another one tomorrow.”
“Okay.” I smiled, my cheeks heating slightly.
“Finish up, then we can head over to NeuroWell. I can’t wait to get started.”