Chapter 16
Dakota
Metal hangers were squealing on the rack as Mila flipped through pairs of jeans at our favorite thrift store. I stood next to her, idly going through the jeans after her as we made our way down the aisle.
“You okay?” she asked, glancing over at me. “You’re quiet today.”
Well, I’m digging myself into the deepest hole I’ve ever been in and I don’t think I can stop at this point. Not until I reach the bottom.
And I have no fucking clue how far down that is.
“I’m always quiet,” I replied and took a pair of jeans off the rack, holding them up just so I had something to do with my hands.
“Those are cute,” Mila said about the jeans.
“They’re too short.” I didn’t have to check the inseam to know; most jeans were too short for me.
“If you don’t want to talk about whatever’s bothering you, that’s okay. Just know I’m here for you. Always.” Her brown-eyed gaze was sincere. It would’ve been soothing if my problems were normal, and not life-altering. She’d soothed me many times with that look, with her pretty voice. Just not now.
“I swear I’m fine,” I tried to reassure her, hanging the jeans back up and pushing my hair off my face.
Mila was quiet for a few seconds, clearly not believing me, but choosing not to pry any further. She gave me a little forced smile, a quick nod, then went back to scouring the rack. I felt kind of guilty about that.
After getting Mason’s last name, I’d tried to look him up on social media. There wasn’t a single Mason Ashborn that looked anything like him, though. So I didn’t have a visual to give Mila if I ever did tell her about him.
Maybe he’d been lying about it anyway.
I had a feeling he lied about half the shit he said.
Mila and I made our way around to the sweaters, talking about school now. Annoying people in her classes, my lab group this semester. It wasn’t long before she breached the subject of Dr. Killshaw.
“So…about that hot professor of yours…” she prompted, a real grin tugging at the corners of her pink mouth.
“You are relentless,” I groaned, trying to inconspicuously look around us to make sure nobody was eavesdropping on our conversation.
“And you told me you really really wanted to fuck him.”
“Mila!” I whispered. “Shut the fuck up.”
“You think she cares what I’m talking about?
” Mila asked, voice hushed as she leaned towards me and jerked her thumb at the short old woman browsing the pajamas a few aisles over.
“I doubt she can hear us, and if she can, I’m sure she’s loving the gossip.
She won’t tell a soul, except everyone in her book club.
But they’re already reading bodice-rippers, so what do they care? It’ll be exciting.”
I just stared at Mila for a second, a bit impressed with the image she’d just conjured up for this random woman shopping for long nightgowns.
And then I laughed.
“You are so ridiculous,” I said through my laughter, trying to cover my mouth with my hand to muffle the sound. Somehow everything was funnier when you needed to be quiet.
“Ridiculous, or skilled at reading people?”
“Ugh. Both. Whatever. Nothing is ever going to happen with my professor anyway. Like, duh. He’s just hot.”
And he looks at me with an intensity that makes me wet.
I didn’t say that part, even though the image of his face in the lab the other day was branded into my mind.
“Have you guys, like, accidentally brushed hands or anything? Bumped hard hats?”
“Oh, my God.” I dropped my face into my palms, feeling my cheeks heat.
“I know what you really want to bump on him. Not a hard hat. And I’ll bet he wants it too.”
“You have no way of knowing that.” I shook my head.
“Yes I do. You’re sexy as fuck, and any hot-blooded male who sees you is gonna want you to put it on him. That’s a fact.”
“You flatter me. Making me think we need to kiss sober next.”
She pretended to fan her face, like she was overheating at the thought. “Don’t tempt me with a good time.”
I glanced down at my phone, then swore under my breath. “Shit, Mila. I have work soon.”
Her eyes widened. Clearly we’d both forgotten this was supposed to be a quick trip to fill time before she dropped me off at the gas station. But it was alright; we still had plenty of time to get there.
Mila rushed over to the checkout to buy the few things she’d accumulated over our minutes of browsing, then yanked with me out the sliding glass door of the thrift store, giant plastic bag of clothes swinging in her hand.
We hopped into her car, Mila spent too much time picking out the music, then we drove off.
Eric was at the register when I walked in, electronic chime sounding above my head, and I fired off a quick text to Mila as I greeted him. He wasn’t often working at the register when she dropped me off, so she needed to take advantage of the opportunity.
Me : Get your ass in here. Buy something while I go to the bathroom
She sent back a terrified emoji. I giggled, then dumped my bag on the stool behind the counter and scurried past Eric to the family bathroom. I heard the door to the station opening a second later. Brave girl.
I stayed in the bathroom for a minute, my ear pressed to the door like a creep, but I didn’t hear anything. Was she shopping around?
Through the door, I heard Eric speak. “Find everything alright?”
Mila’s voice was too quiet for me to make out what she responded, but I was smiling nonetheless. I gave her another minute so I wouldn’t intrude, then I left the bathroom just as she finished paying. Her cheeks were flushed.
The second she left, I saw her get her phone out of her pocket, then felt my own buzz with a notification a moment later.
Mila : That t-shirt is criminal
I looked at Eric, who was wearing a faded blue t-shirt. Maybe it was a little tighter across the chest and arms, but criminal? I stifled a laugh, heading behind the counter to take over at the register.
Me : What did you buy?
Mila : I don’t even know. I just grabbed something. Some chips. I was too distracted by how good his hand looked picking the bag up off the counter when he scanned it
Eric was none the wiser to this conversation, of course. He disappeared into the back office, taking the faint scent of his cologne with him.
Me : Think you got some momentum going?
Mila : I don’t know. I certainly got enough forearm porn to last me a little while, though
Me : Honestly, it feels like you’re thirsting over my uncle or something. But I am supportive
Mila : Good, bitch. You’re gonna be calling me step-aunt soon
Step-aunt Ludmila. It had a little ring to it, I supposed.
━━━━━
The second day of lab started the same way as the first. Jacob explained the RSA3 and how we would load our samples into it to test the stress and strain values for each polymer.
Quinn and I ended up taking the lead on this part, loading the samples we’d made on Tuesday into the analyzer and figuring out the computer software.
We had three of each type of polymer, so we could get a more representative average value.
The RSA3 had three sort-of prongs, which we set our samples between, and then the top center prong pushed down on the polymer between the other two bottom prongs, measuring the amount of force required to deform it slightly. A three-point bend.
“Can you hand me the caliper?” Quinn asked Jackson, who stretched his arm out to hand it to her. She read off the thickness and width measurements of our current sample, which I wrote down, then she carefully put it into place on the analyzer machine.
I adjusted the pressure with the software on the computer, waiting for it to even out in our desired range, then started the data collection program. We had to do a strain sweep run for each type of polymer, then frequency tests on each of our three samples.
It was mostly knowing how to use the computer program, taking good notes, and ensuring we were correctly exporting our data to analyze later.
On Tuesday, Jacob had mentioned that Dr. Killshaw would probably spend more time with on this day of lab, but he hadn’t shown yet.
I’d been playing that look he gave me on repeat in my mind, even as I tried not to.
Just the memory of his slightly-narrowed his eyes, the tautness of his body, was making me sweat.
Nate was talking to the TA about our initial graphs while he set up an Excel file on his laptop when I heard another person enter the lab. I didn’t turn to look this time; I didn’t need to.
Micah Killshaw.
Though I knew I shouldn’t be thinking his first name in my head, I couldn’t quite stop now that I’d seen it printed right there on his helmet.
Butterflies fluttered around my stomach and I tightened my grip on the computer mouse, trying to focus on what I was doing.
“How’s it going today?” he asked. I wanted to melt at the sound of his voice.
“Better than yesterday.” Jacob laughed. “This part isn’t giving us too much trouble.”
I expected him to ask about something on the computer, ask how I was handling the programs, anything. But he didn’t.
“Quinn,” Dr. Killshaw started, approaching her. “What do you think of the RSA3? Software not too hard to figure out?”
“Nope.” I could see her shaking her head in my peripheral vision.
“Good. Looks like you’ve got some good data collected so far. Computer seems to be running smoothly.”
Carefully, I peered back at him, finding his attention locked on Quinn.
An uncomfortable jealousy writhed in my gut. Why was he talking to her about it, when I was the one actually on the computer? You know, the one collecting the data? My back teeth clenched tightly together.
I’m being so insane right now.
She grabbed another PET sample and loaded it into the machine.
I took a deep breath, zeroing my focus in on the computer screen, despite the fact that I could hear Dr. Killshaw talking directly to Nate and Jackson now.
He was helping them figure out how the axes should be scaled on the plots they were setting up.
It should be a log-log plot. I know that.