14. Biochemistry and the Molecules of Life
BIOCHEMISTRY AND THE MOLECULES OF LIFE
*Samantha*
W rapping an arm around my upper body and standing, Andreas didn’t give my brain a chance to catch up with his intentions.
Torso supported, my legs gradually slid from his hips to his calves until he bent slightly at the waist, setting my feet gently on the floor.
I was about to untangle my arms from his neck when he leaned to my ear and whispered, “Hold on.”
The heat of his breath falling against my bare skin made me shiver, but I complied, holding him tighter.
Placing one arm under my legs, he scooped me up.
Unsure what I was thinking or feeling, I buried my head in the crook of his neck and squeezed my eyes shut, focusing only on regulating my breathing and battling this overwhelming, drug-like daze of arousal.
I heard him murmur, “Thank you.”
Andreas then carried me around the couch and down the short hallway to my room. I sensed him pause inside. He shifted. I heard the door close.
I felt his chest rise and fall with a sigh. “Are you alright?”
I nodded, my arms loosening. “Can you put me down, please?” My voice sounded odd, rough, small.
He bent and it didn’t occur to me until he set me down that, due to the shortness of my hiked-up dress and the method of his transport—one-armed bridal-style carry—I’d likely just flashed Nakita.
Oh well. She can thank me for the free show later.
Rolling my eyes at myself, I felt my face go red, not because I’d flashed my roommate but because I’d been too turned on to notice.
In a scramble to preserve any shred of dignity, I spent a frantic few seconds yanking my skirt down while stumbling away from Andreas, trying to remember what decorum even was.
Decorum. What is: A word my grandmother used that I never learned, for $500, Alex?
Still blushing so hard I thought my face might combust, I turned stupidly in a half circle, desperately wanting to fill the tense silence. “So, uh, you’ll take—you’ll sleep there.” I pointed to my bed. “I should change the sheets.”
“No need.” Andreas walked toward my mattress and, in the dim illumination provided by the city lights coming in through the window, I realized he held a bundle of clothes. He lifted a pair of sweatpants. “These should fit.”
Kendra’s boyfriend’s clothes. Andreas had likely one-arm carried me so he could accept the pajamas from Nakita without letting me go.
I did my level best to pretend the last ten minutes hadn’t affected me by clearing my throat and attempting a nonchalant nod.
“Good. And if you’re cool with the sheets, fine.
They were washed recently anyway.” The effect was spoiled by the fact that my fingers visibly shook when I darted past him and fumbled with the light switch by the door. “I’ll just—I’ll go brush my?—”
He was next to me in a flash, his larger hand covering mine on the switch. “Wait.”
I went statue still, a now familiar jolt of electricity shooting up my arm at his touch.
“Don’t. Your roommate is out there, and it would appear strange if you turned on the lights or left now, after ...”
I made a short sound of agreement, like an ahh, and removed my fingers from the light switch.
A long, awkward moment passed where neither of us moved or spoke.
My ears strained to listen for movement beyond the room, but the sound of my own heart beating between my temples made that impossible.
And I was too turned on. Rather than allow my breathing to grow shallow or labored again, I held air in my lungs then forced myself to exhale carefully, slowly, silently through my nose.
“Samantha,” he whispered roughly, breaking the silence, still standing too close but not touching me anywhere. “Are you ... upset with me?”
“No,” I croaked, then cleared my throat again before adding on a whisper, “Not at all. Are you upset with me?”
Daring to glance over my shoulder, I peeked at him. His back was to the window, his features were mostly in shadow, but I felt his eyes on me.
Finally, after a protracted period, he rasped out, “Not upset, no.”
Those words sounded like a riddle. Instinctively, I turned, lifting my chin and searching his face, or what I could see of his features, which wasn’t much. But his eyes seemed to glint.
It was on the tip of my tongue to ask what he’d meant when Andreas stumbled a step forward, as though he’d been pushed from behind.
His hands reached out and gripped my waist, tugging me forward.
His fingers flexed on my sides. The movement felt restless.
I heard him exhale a ragged breath as his forehead connected with mine.
“I need—” he began, then shook his head, his arms abruptly embracing me. “May I hold you? I only need—only for a moment.”
My arms were already returning his embrace before he’d finished speaking, wrapping tightly around his chest. I felt his erection against my stomach, hard and insistent, but I ignored it, and a long exhale left my lungs.
Holding him right now felt necessary, a relief, an outlet for the buzzing electric energy beneath my skin.
I closed my eyes, squeezing him tighter.
Ear pressed against his wide chest, I listened as his racing heart gradually slowed and our breathing synced.
Eventually, I felt him swallow. He lifted a hand and gently pressed his palm to the crown of my head, as though encouraging me to snuggle closer, to relax into him.
My arms loosened but I kept my fingers locked as I melted against his body, sinking into the warm strength of his arms.
We stood there so much longer than a moment, holding each other in the dim light. I didn’t know what he was thinking and I made no effort to guess. Abruptly aware of how exposed I felt, both physically and otherwise, I knew I was being ridiculous and I needed to get my head on straight.
The sound of Nakita’s bedroom door closing is what finally broke us apart.
I stepped away. He let me go. Then I turned my back to him and stared at my dresser, at the pile of unfolded laundry, at my poster of Rosalind Franklin glaring at me from the shadows with supreme judgment.
“If you’re going to stay, you should change clothes.
” I moved further away from him. “I’ll go get you a new toothbrush and lay it out in the bathroom.
Let me give you some privacy,” I said, a little too fast, a little too loud.
I then grabbed my own pajamas from the drawer, bolted out the door, and shut it behind me.
Making a beeline for the bathroom, I ignored the sound of Nakita’s laughter echoing from behind her closed bedroom door. Once inside, I turned the lock, found a new toothbrush, set it on the sink, and stared at myself in the mirror.
Somehow, my makeup had mostly survived the double onslaught of tears and tongue. My mascara was only slightly smeared, and my lipstick, while gone, had left behind a faint berry stain.
A laugh bubbled up, but it came out as something brittle and desperate.
I stripped out of the dress and shimmied into my pajamas—baggy, blue, and covered in cartoon mitochondria—then sat down on the edge of the bathtub, buried my face in my hands, and tried to process the events of the evening.
We’d had a really nice dinner together. In fact, if tonight’s dinner had been a real first date, it would’ve been the best one I’d ever had. And then everything that came after ...
This was dangerous. This was uncharted territory. I was the one who’d insisted on boundaries, on rules, on avoiding any scenario where I might get in over my head. And now, I was the one who couldn’t get her heart rate below 160.
I needed to talk to Andreas, be honest, and put it all out there.
I needed to clarify. To define. To make sure that what happened in the restaurant and on the sofa were simply one-time-only—er, two-time-only—mission-critical incidents, and not gateway grope fests that would lead to . .. something else.
But first, I needed a few more minutes alone.
Pressing my palms to my eyelids, I attempted to memorize the feeling of his hands on my hips, his mouth on mine, the dizzying, impossible heat of his body beneath my open legs.
I tried to memorize it so I could lock it away forever, file it under “Miscellaneous,” and get on with the task at hand: burning it all down and coming out the other side unscathed and triumphant.
Unfortunately, there was also the small matter of the hug in my bedroom just now.
Unscripted, unnecessary, and very private.
Some part of me had desperately craved that embrace from Andreas, and had been craving it since he first approached me outside my department building.
All this strange wistfulness I’d been trying to shove aside and ignore, longing I’d labeled as simple attraction, when my feelings were so much deeper than surface-level desire.
But, so what? What could be done about it? Sure, I’d have to confront it, talk it out, establish new boundaries, especially since we’d be moving in together tomorrow. But I could never allow myself to act on this wistfulness and longing. Too much was at stake.
I had a fake fiancé in my bedroom, a roommate who probably thought I was two weeks from eloping, and an entire empire of lies to maintain until Oskar Kristiansen kicked the bucket, whenever that might be. I couldn’t let pesky feelings get in the way.
Finally, I stood, splashed cold water on my face, and forced myself to smile. When I failed to achieve what could pass as a genuine expression of nonchalance, I stopped trying.
Inhaling deeply, I decided we’d have to discuss everything tomorrow. Not now. Not when I felt so exposed, not when my desire felt this close to the surface, clamoring for attention and satisfaction and him .
Yes. Tomorrow. I nodded at my reflection in the mirror. I’ll figure it out tomorrow.
* * *