Chapter 5
Mateo
Charlie is super fucking confused. Mouth agape, rapid blinking, deer-in-the-headlights confused, and I want to kiss the befuddled look off her face.
Her notebook slips from her grip and tumbles to the floor, and she scrambles to retrieve it.
“Sorry we’re late. The coffee shop was slammed.”
Dan slips into the office and plants a wet, nauseating kiss to Cheryl’s lips.
I drop an iced latte in front of Charlie, who still wears the adorable stunned look. She rubs an eyeball, blinks at the drink, then glares so forcefully the skin around her scar pulls taut as her eyebrows scrunch together.
“What are you doing here?” she hisses under her breath.
I ignore her. “I made sure Amy made your coffee so the ratio of espresso to milk was right.”
She examines the to-go cup like it’s a bomb, and I slide into the chair beside her. She tentatively lifts the drink to her lips. The caffeine hits her tongue, and the tension in her shoulders falls away .
A rogue strand of honey-blond hair falls in front of her face, and she blows, shifting the piece out of her view. Her lips form a perfect O, and I squirm in my seat, my cock twitching at the sight.
Charlotte Bowen is so distractingly beautiful that, at times, I lose function of my faculties. When she cornered me in the kitchenette this morning, I nearly spilled scalding coffee on myself from the shock of seeing her.
Cheryl and Dan whisper on the other side of the desk, and with every furtive look, Charlie descends deeper into a whirlpool of negative thoughts.
It happens often, and when it does, her hands begin to shake and her skin pales, darkening the pink of her scar.
“Mateo, what is happening?” Her question is accusatory, and I’m unable to hide my smile.
I spent my time at the library this morning, avoiding her so I wouldn’t spill this secret, until her stomping around finally caught up to me. But I still managed to hold my tongue then, so I refuse to ruin the surprise now.
She pulls her lip between her teeth, and I avert my gaze. Thankfully, Dan clears his throat and draws her attention before I do something truly stupid—like kiss her.
“We’re so glad you could make it,” Cheryl starts, buzzing with enthusiasm.
“You said this was mandatory,” Charlie grumbles under her breath.
Cheryl lifts a brow but is undeterred by Charlie’s grumpy attitude.
“Dan and I have a very exciting, very exclusive proposal for you.”
My knee bounces beneath the desk, excitement for Charlie coursing through my veins. This is on her scientist bucket list—number two, to be precise—and when she finds out, she’s going to freak .
She glances in my direction, nerves radiating off her, and I offer a smile.
You know she’s off-kilter if she’s looking to me for reassurance.
My instinct is to take her hand in mine and offer her comfort, but it’s not my place.
The lines defining our relationship are odd.
I could tell her that I’m into her—have been since the moment I saw her at the new student mixer—but the confession would catalyze a series of events I’m not sure I’m emotionally prepared to face.
I’ve perpetually flirted with her, hopeful that she would walk into our shared office space one day and flirt back, but she never has.
On a few rare occasions, I’ve caught her admiring me—at least, that’s how it felt. But she’s never expressed interest in me , and it continues to hold me back.
The limbo state is growing old, if I’m being honest.
“Okay?”
She picks at the sparkly purple nail polish on her finger, chips of paint decorating her jeans.
“We’ve been contacted by RogueWave Productions. Have you heard of them?” Dan asks. “They’re well known for documentaries.”
Dan and I had this conversation yesterday after I finalized the plane tickets and hotel bookings, but Charlie is still in the dark. It may have been a poor choice, given she looks like she may vomit.
“No…” Charlie trails off.
“You’re going to be on TV,” Cheryl blurts out, and dread settles in my stomach. We were supposed to sprinkle in the TV part but lead with the research vessel. There’s also the small issue that the cabin only has one bed, but I am not poking that beast until I have to.
Hopefully someone will break the news to her, because I can’t do it without conjuring dirty images of Charlie splayed out in the bed, naked and writhing beneath me, my name on her tongue .
“Hell no.”
The words rip me back to reality, where Charlie’s twirling a white-and-gray bracelet around her wrist, her nail polish completely demolished.
Dan’s brow furrows, and I snake my hand beneath the desk to squeeze Charlie’s thigh.
I don’t touch her often, because she despises me, and based on the look she’s offering right now, she might hate me even more after today.
Which is problematic because we’re about to spend three weeks at sea together.
“Hear them out, bruja,” I say, giving her muscles another squeeze. Her eyeballs bulge from her skull. Thin, dainty fingers grip mine with shocking strength and pry my hand off her thigh.
I cough to disguise my laughter.
“Jett Parks is funding the production of a documentary in the Monterey Bay National Marine Sanctuary. Cheryl and I were invited to collaborate as research advisors; however, we have a nonrefundable all-inclusive vacation in Bermuda,” Dan says.
“We suggested sending Mateo and you in our stead, and the production crew and Jett agreed. You’re set to spend the next three weeks upon the SeaStar research vessel. ”
The room is silent, and Charlie spins in my direction, utter shock marking those pretty features. Disbelief shifts her irises to a stunning shade of bright blue.
“W-what?” She slides her shaky hands beneath her thighs. “I-I—SeaStar?” she stutters, and I offer her a moment to compose her thoughts.
“We have full access to the research lab and the sampling apparatuses on board, meaning we can collect soil and water samples.” Pause for dramatic effect . “All for free.”
It may be the most exciting aspect of the voyage, at least for a PhD student with a tight research budget.
“Free?” she croaks.
“Free,” I confirm .
“If you agree—and we hope you do since Mateo already booked flights and accommodation—you’ll spend the next three weeks identifying species and offering commentary on biological processes,” Dan says.
Cheryl adds, “The documentary is called Aliens of the Deep, so your focus will be on deep-sea species.”
I wish I could film Charlie’s reaction, her expressions jumping between confusion, disbelief, concern, and my favorite, sheer joy.
“Who is Jett Parks?” she asks, stringing together her first full sentence.
“He’s a tok-tiker instafluencer, I think,” Cheryl says, and Charlie’s lips quirk as she flips to a clean page in her notebook.
“He has a popular YouTube channel,” I amend. “It started with pranks but now focuses on explaining odd or alien things about Earth.” Charlie’s eyebrow raises. “I googled him yesterday.”
We all exchange a sly glance as we wait for her to say something.
It was my suggestion to surprise her, given how badly she wants to go on the SeaStar vessel.
Only one thing beats it on her scientist bucket list: meeting Charles Darwin.
Unfortunately, it’s incredibly unrealistic unless necromancy is real.
Charlie fans herself before grabbing her latte and sucking down the liquid in one gulp.
“What’s the catch?” she asks.
“No catch,” I respond, but Cheryl and Dan share a look of mischief. Charlie doesn’t notice it, and I choose to ignore it.
They’re the quirky married professors on campus, but they’re also incredible advisors and brilliant researchers. Sometimes you have to ignore the weird looks for peace of mind, which is what I’m doing now.
“Sofía Martinez is part of the production crew and has been working with Mateo to ensure everything is set. They only agreed on Monday, so it’s been a bit hectic,” Cheryl explains. “Your flights leave Friday, and you board the ship Saturday morning. ”
Charlie scribbles down notes on the logistics, then grimaces as she asks, “Do we have to be on camera?”
“For the documentary, no, but for Jett’s personal YouTube channel, it’s a possibility. You could ask for him to exclude you, but from my understanding, it’s supposed to be a behind-the-scenes thing,” Dan says, and Charlie swirls her bracelet again.
A nervous tic.
Her eyes dart around like a cornered animal, so I deflect, throwing my arm over her shoulder and pulling her toward me.
“Just you and me, bruja.”
She peels my hand from her shoulder, holding my wrist like it’s a soiled diaper. God, she’s funny, especially when she’s not trying.
“We are going to be thick as thieves.”
“Keep dreaming, Mateo.”
Oh, I am .
Have been for two years, and this trip could be my opportunity.
It’s time for Charlie and me to evolve. I’m tired of where we’re at. The back-and-forth is fun, but I want more, or to know it’s never going to happen.
Oliver’s words bang around in my head. You need to stand in the spotlight.
I’m not sure I’m ready for a full confession, but maybe we can test the waters, get to know each other outside the daily stress of graduate school.
Despite her love for evolution and Charles Darwin, she despises change. Runs from it when necessary, and when she can’t, she rages against it. But her beloved Charles said it best: It is not the strongest species that survives, nor the most intelligent, but the one more responsive to change.
Time will tell if Charlie is responsive or not, and if she is, well, then maybe this odd relationship will evolve into something more.
Something magnificent.