Chapter 15
Dakota
Stanton was not only the building the Unit Ops lectures were in, but also where the entire lab was housed.
It was in a high-ceiling basement, but some of the towers were still tall enough to breach that ceiling, so there was a viewing area on the first floor with windows looking in to the lab from above.
For example, standing on the top platform for the distillation column would put you in line with people standing on the first floor as they watched through the windows.
It was an incredibly expensive lab space, and I was grateful to go to a school that’d made such an extensive investment in this area.
I pushed through the door to the stairwell and made my way down to the basement, to the open locker space outside the lab where students kept their PPE. Navigating on autopilot to my assigned locker, I gave a short wave to Quinn, who was already sitting at one of the round tables, laptop out.
“Hey,” I said as I sat with her, setting my hard hat and safety glasses on the table.
Unfortunately, the hard hat and glasses were non-negotiable if you wanted to enter the lab space. It made sense, because of all the tall platforms where things could fall from, and just the amount of heavy-duty equipment in the room. Some experiments even required coats, gloves, and face shields.
“Hey, Dakota,” she greeted, glancing up from her screen. “How’s it going?”
“It’s going alright. You?”
“Decent.”
We didn’t talk much after that, both of us just waiting for the other two members of our group to show up and for the lab period to start. Nate and Jackson walked in together a few minutes later, then we all gathered our PPE and note-taking supplies and headed over to the poly lab.
The polymers lab was technically separate from the main lab space with the distillation column and everything else, but the same safety rules applied.
A TA was already in the lab when we arrived, his back to us while he pried the lid off a large barrel of plastic pellets. It smelled faintly like chemicals and metal in the room.
“Hey,” he said, turning around. “I’m Jacob. I’ll be helping you guys out with lab today and Thursday—Dr. Killshaw will also be stopping in, but he’ll spend more time with you all on Thursday. Today we’re just going to be making the samples for your five different polymer types.”
“How’s it been going with other groups?” Jackson asked, reaching in to one of the large barrels and picking up a handful of plastic pellets, letting them spill between his fingers. “I heard this lab was finicky.”
“Yeah.” Jacob sighed, resting his hand on one of the workbenches. “The molds usually end up getting stuck about half the time. We’ll do our best, and if we can’t get a certain one made, I’ll either do it for you, or we have some from last year over on that table.”
He gestured to another workstation, on which sat a few thin plastic pieces in varying shades of clear and white, all about the size of my thumb.
“Will that impact our grade?” Quinn asked.
“No.” Jacob shook his head. “Not at all.”
She breathed a quiet sigh of relief.
Nate spoke up next, walking farther into the room towards the heated press at the back. “Can I be the one to put the shit in the press?”
“I don’t care,” Jacob said, then glanced between the rest of us.
I just shrugged, staying quiet. Like usual.
“You’ve just gotta be careful. Killshaw will murder me if you get something stuck in there.
” He chuckled at our wide eyes. “Not really. He’s a good dude, but you should’ve seen the looks on your faces.
Especially you—” he looked at the name tag on my helmet “—Dakota. You don’t need to be scared of him. Swear it.”
Great. I’ll be sure not to let myself be afraid of him. Since you swore I didn’t need to be.
I wished he hadn’t just called me out in front of everyone. But I didn’t know how I was supposed to react to mentions of my professor when I’d had a graphic sex dream about him, and he reminded me of someone else—someone who did scare me. Viscerally.
After a few more minutes of going over the safety procedures and discussing the order we were going to melt our different polymer molds in, we got started.
Honestly, it was a lot of waiting. Waiting for the press to heat up, waiting for it to get to pressure, letting it sit at that pressure, waiting for it to get to a higher pressure, letting it sit at that pressure for longer, taking out the mold and putting it in front of a fan to cool it.
We all ended up sitting on random stools most of the time, Jacob talking about his internship experiences while we listened and the others asked questions.
There were five different polymers we were testing, and one blend of two of the others.
As predicted, our molds wouldn’t come apart half the time.
But it was kinda funny watching Nate and Jackson trying to jam a flathead screwdriver between the metal plates while Jacob attempted to instruct them—before eventually taking over and prying the plates apart to reveal our fucked-up samples himself.
It didn’t seem to matter how much mold-release spray we coated the metal molds with before putting them into the press; it was up to sheer luck whether or not we got usable samples out of our attempts.
Quinn and I spent some time taking pictures of things in the lab to include in our final lab report. Pictures of the different polymer pellets before melting, pictures of the press, pictures of the molds cooling in front of a fan.
About halfway through the lab period was when the door opened.
“Just here to check in,” a masculine voice said. Dr. Killshaw.
I spun around to watch him entering the lab, tall and self-assured and important-looking. Vaguely, I knew he was doing other research work at Blackpine, and his sole job wasn’t teaching, but I wasn’t sure exactly what he did.
“Going alright,” Jacob answered, keeping an eye on the pressure rising on the heated press. “Polyethylene and polystyrene are done, and we’ve got the EPM-PU blend in there now. EPM by itself was taken out of the mold too early so they’re going to use one of the samples from last year.”
He glanced at the stringy mess on one of the counters—the failed EPM attempt.
“That’s good progress,” Dr. Killshaw commented, striding farther into the room, inspecting our finished samples laying on the counter.
I looked up at the sticker on the front of his hard hat.
Micah Killshaw. Seeing his first name printed out made him feel like more of a real person.
My pulse sped up. “I assume you’re going to do the polyurethane next, and then PET? ”
Jacob nodded to affirm.
Dr. Killshaw propped his hands on his hips, watching Nate and Jackson remove the next mold from the press while explaining a little more background on the science of polymers and giving tips for our report—which Quinn and I were dutifully scribbling down.
One section of the report was a hypothetical design scenario, so he helped us talk through potential ideas for it.
His intelligence was subtly infused into every single word he spoke. I could feel it during lecture, but even more so like this, when I knew everything was unscripted and all his responses were based purely on his expert knowledge of engineering.
While Jacob helped Nate fill up another mold with the polyurethane pellets, Dr. Killshaw’s cold blue eyes slid to meet my green ones, something controlled and shadowy in the depths of his stare.
I didn’t look away this time.
Neither did he.
It felt almost like I was under a microscope, the way he was looking at me. Like he was trying to figure me out, his stare cautiously restrained but lingering.
I rolled my lips together, feeling my face heating.
Maybe he was wondering why I was eyeing him so obviously. The embarrassment of that thought made me move my gaze back to my notes…but I swore I could still feel him watching in my peripheral.
I dared another glance at him.
He was still staring at me.
I just couldn’t figure out why, or why it was making me so hot all of a sudden.
His eyes narrowed an infinitesimal amount, sharpening his gaze.
Shifting how I was sitting on the stool, I let my gaze flick downwards onto his body for an instant.
His broad chest and carved shoulders, his slim waist and strong neck.
A man who knows what he wants, and has the means to get it. The patience to earn it. The discipline to deserve it.
Whether that was experiment results, research funding, or…other things.
I found myself wondering how a man like him liked to fuck.
And that was when I officially banned myself from observing him any longer. My nails pressed into my palms and I gritted my teeth.
Fuck, my group has been talking this entire time.
I had no clue what they’d been saying. But from the way Dr. Killshaw was joining in, it was clear he’d been listening the whole time.
Am I deluding myself into believing there was something charged in his eyes when he looked at me? Am I losing my mind?
Dr. Killshaw left after a few more minutes, and we continued making our polymer samples for the next hour. Once our samples were prepared for Thursday and the lab space was all tidied up, we all went our separate ways.
━━━━━
Mason : I want to see you again
I was staring at my phone in the darkness, laying on my bed. The text had come in a few hours ago, but I’d yet to respond. I didn’t know what to say, or if I should say anything at all. Now that he knew where I lived, I was concerned he’d just show up here if I didn’t answer him.
My teeth scraped over my lower lip while my thumbs tapped out a response. I sent it.
Me : And do what?
He was typing almost immediately, which thrilled me more than it should’ve. What are you doing? Are you laying in bed too? I shifted my body under my comforter, feeling warm.
Mason : Something messy