Chapter 16 #2
I started the frequency test run for the sample, tapping my fingernail on the counter while the machine worked and the computer collected the data.
The more minutes that passed, the worse I felt.
Dr. Killshaw had directly addressed every other person in this room except for me, spoken their first names and engaged with them in conversation.
An anxious, upset undercurrent threaded itself through my every thought, almost like all I could do was wait for him to finally talk to me.
Like that was the only possible way of making me feel better, of soothing this discomfort.
And he wasn’t giving it to me.
Why?
My fingers unconsciously sought out my heart-shaped locket around my neck, feeling the smooth metal and little clasp, twisting it on the chain. I needed some water. We couldn’t have water in the lab, though; I’d have to go out to the locker area to get my bottle.
“I’m going to go grab a quick drink,” I told Quinn once the run was finished and she was taking the sample out of the machine.
“Sounds good,” she said. “I’ll get the last PET one ready.”
“Water,” I explained to Jacob when he peered up at me walking out of the lab.
My professor didn’t spare a single glance, however.
In the hallway, I took a few deep breaths. It was cooler out here, away from the heated press in the poly lab. It was still cooling down from something the TA had been doing on his own earlier.
The air conditioning was nice and cold on my face as I speed-walked down the hallway to the locker area.
I grabbed my water bottle from my bag and chugged half of it, wiping my wrist over the corner of my mouth to catch a drip of water. What is wrong with me? I am way overthinking this.
There wasn’t a reason I should even care, either. I didn’t know him. I shouldn’t care if he spoke to me or not. It didn’t mean anything concrete in my life, because I wasn’t graded on small talk; I was graded on results and reports and exams. I was good at those things.
I also knew all of my overthinking was only magnified by the other black hole in my life, the darkness sucking everything safe and stable into an unreachable void. Mason. There were so many little things at play here, so many moving pieces that didn’t necessarily correlate.
And still, Dr. Killshaw’s dismissal needled at the tender parts of my soul. The unguarded hopes I’d accidentally let bloom without trying. All the quiet corners of my mind that craved approval were bleeding.
It’s okay. Everything is fine. I’m safe. This doesn’t matter.
I didn’t do anything wrong.
I walked back to the lab.
Quinn was at the computer now, doing the final test run for our PET samples.
I searched around for our next batch—the EPM/PU mixture—and found Dr. Killshaw leaning against the counter right in front of them.
Clearing my throat, I started to reach for them, or ask for them, or something, but he simply picked one up and handed it to me.
His fingers brushed over mine, lingering for a second too long, applying just a touch too much pressure. My pulse jumped. It had to be deliberate.
My eyes shot to his face, heat rising in my chest, but he wasn’t even looking at me.
All my thoughts instantly became chaotic again.
Is he ignoring me? What possible reason would he have to ignore me?
There’s no way he’s ignoring me.
I turned away and put the polymer into the RSA3. Quinn started another frequency run.
“Wait, Quinn,” I said quickly, going over to the computer. “I think we have to do the strain sweep run instead of the frequency run first, since the is the first EPM/PU sample.”
“Oh, duh,” she smacked her forehead—her helmet. “You can keep doing the computer stuff. I feel like I’ll forget again.”
I dared to look at Dr. Killshaw, to see if he would acknowledge me, acknowledge that I knew what I was doing, that I could catch errors and correct them, but no. Nothing.
He was talking with Nate again about the graphs.
Breathe. In and out.
Quinn and I continued working through all the samples we’d molded on Tuesday, completing our runs and exporting our data while Jacob answered Jackson’s many questions on how to format some part of the report.
We had to do all report formatting in LaTeX for whatever reason, which could be difficult when creating inline equations.
We’d gotten through most of the lab period when the computer froze, an error message popping up in the middle.
“That’s weird,” Quinn said as she looked over my shoulder. “Dr. Killshaw?”
“Ah,” I heard him say. “That happens sometimes.”
I felt him approach me from behind, the unique scent of him invading my senses. I couldn’t move.
He reached an arm around me, grabbing the computer mouse while I held perfectly still, hardly breathing. The warmth from his chest was radiating onto my back, though he wasn’t touching me. I could sense his height without turning my head to look, feel it in the angle of his arm next to mine.
He clicked a few buttons, overriding a shutdown procedure, then restarted the program. I tried not to be obvious with my inhaling of his scent; it was faint but heady, addictive.
It only took a minute for him to fix the computer, but it felt so much longer with his proximity driving my body temperature up. I swore he’d leaned even closer somehow.
When he finally stepped back, I was sweating.
I turned to look at him across the room.
Was he purposefully avoiding making eye contact with me or was I going insane?
Fuck. I turned my focus back on the computer screen. Almost done.
Jackson and Nate were talking with Jacob about his internships again, and Quinn joined the conversation. I stayed quiet. Laughter sounded behind me, and I swore even Dr. Killshaw was laughing, but I didn’t confirm it with my eyes. My face was red; I could just feel it.
The same jealousy from earlier was growing inside of me like a bundle of thorns, knotting in my stomach, scratching me up inside. I wanted to be normal, too. To be included, too. To be approved of by this authority figure giving his acknowledgements to everyone but me.
Nobody even noticed when we’d finished collecting data for the day because nobody was paying any attention to me, and I was too fucking quiet to speak up about it.
Quinn checked in with me after a few minutes, then loudly announced to everyone that we were done, which elicited a few excited mentions of freedom.
My heart was in my throat as I grabbed my things and prepared to leave. Dr. Killshaw wasn’t ignoring me. I could prove it. I opened my mouth to speak, trying to force myself to be loud.
“Dr. Killshaw—”
“See you all in lecture next week,” he said, cutting me off. Then he disappeared through the door.
I snapped my mouth shut, frustration and anger and regret and disbelief and embarrassment heating my blood. At least it didn’t seem like anyone had heard my failed attempt at communication.
But I knew Dr. Killshaw had heard. I was right next to him.
Without waiting for my group, I pushed out the doors of the lab, catching sight of my professor slipping through the door to the back stairwell. I went the other direction. Fuck him.
My hands were shaking as I put everything in my bag. I managed to give Quinn a tight smile when she said bye to me, but I felt raw. Stupid. Humiliated.
Why did he look at me like that on Tuesday if he was going to completely disregard my presence today?
Because I’m making something out of nothing. That’s why.