4. Liv
Sweat gathered inside my nitrile gloves and dripped down the lines of my palms, but only a few vials remained to fill, and once I finished those, I could get back to my actual job.
Without interns or help from Brad, simpler jobs like prepping batches of solvent before running quality tests on a new formula always fell to me.
Bluetooth earbuds, long since dead, helped block out the beep of someone’s forgotten timer, making me even more eager to get the hell out .
Gritting my teeth, I filled the final few vials, covered and labeled the tray, and set it aside before yanking off the gloves and massaging my clammy hands.
Tension settled between my shoulder blades as I sank onto a stool, the long week weighing me down in a single, Brad-shaped instant.
A loud, cracking whoosh echoed through the lab as he sauntered in, opening an enormous neon energy drink.
“No food or drinks in the lab,” I reminded him for the millionth time, wondering how much effort it would take to knock him over and steal the can without spilling it. I, at least, would drink the damn thing outside the lab.
“I’m near the door. It’s fine.” A cocky grin nowhere near as convincing as Ash’s flashed as Brad leaned back against the door.
“Safety officer.” I pointed at myself. “It’s not procedure. Out.”
“Damn, sugar, I came here to tell you a package came in for you, but if you’ve got PMS, never mind.”
Idiot . “Thanks ever so much, Brad. I appreciate the newsflash.” As usual, he didn’t pick up on the sarcasm.
“That’s what I thought.”
Why wouldn’t he leave ? “Oh, look. It’s almost five.” I glanced at my bare wrist.
“Yep, you’re lucky I caught you. I was on the way out.” His floppy, dirty-blonde hair fell in his eyes as he watched me tidy the space. Smug bastard, showing up with his energy drinks and self-satisfied good deed for the day, so of course he didn’t offer to help.
“Don’t let me stop you.” Saccharine laced my tone, falsely sweet.
“Catch you later, Sweetcheeks.”
I flipped him off as he walked away.
Fifteen minutes later, I had everything neat again, with all the syringes and pipettes back in place, and I entered my office, sinking into the squeaky desk chair.
On my desk sat a neatly wrapped package in navy paper with a forest green, gold edged ribbon tied in a fastidious bow but no label or card.
Curiosity piqued, I slid my fingers beneath the bow, tugging it off the paper slowly, unwilling to tear something so lovely. With a little pressure, the tape on the seam opened, and the deep blue paper fell away in a perfect sheet. The white box inside held a familiar logo, and my stomach lurched.
Inside the box was a paperback, a historical romance, with a small hand-written card peeking out between the pages.
Barnes,
Bring this to the game in case you get bored again. I think I’m pretty entertaining, but I’ve heard reading at hockey games is more fun.
—Ash
Beneath the book lay an envelope, in which were two tickets to the Knights’ game on Saturday.
My nail scraped along the thin edge of the cardboard as I flicked one with my thumb; I’d have to give the tickets away—my dad was flying in from Raleigh for a few days.
Debating on whether it was worth it to ask if Brad wanted them, I absently pulled my phone out of my bag and found a missed call from my father.
Shit, shit, shit . Normally, I received notifications on my smartwatch, but the battery died before I left for the lab, and I left charging at my desk. Shit. Bile rose in my throat as I scrambled to unlock my phone with trembling fingers.
With the entire continental U.S. separating us, my mind always went straight to the worst-case scenario. If something happened to him…
“Livy! Hi, kiddo!” He sounded raspy, but hearing his familiar voice twisted a valve in my chest.
Dad was all I had, and if I missed a call when he needed me, if something happened?—
“Liv.”
My father’s voice snapped my mind out of the spiral, but my body missed the memo.
A gasping breath left my mouth. I tried to play it off.
“Dad, hi!” Instead of sounding cheery and nonchalant, it sounded more like a croak.
“What’s going on? Is everything okay?” Well, there went nonchalance, right out the window.
“It’s nearly six there, I thought you’d be on your way home by now.”
“I got caught up in the lab. I’m leaving soon, and I’m planning to go grocery shopping on the way home. You’re making chicken and dumplings for me, right?” I left it to the last minute, as usual.
“Actually, I’m feeling a bit under the weather, and I don’t think I can make it. I know you’ve got those concert tickets, and I’m so sorry, honey, but I don’t think this weekend will work.”
Hurt welled, stinging my eyes, and I was grateful he didn’t video call me to see it. “You’re not coming?”
“I’m sorry, Liv, I feel like shit. I’ll be awful company, and I know how tired you are; I can hear it in your voice. If I have something serious, I’d rather not give it to you, especially if you’re working yourself to death.”
Tugging the elastic out of my hair and scrubbing one hand over my aching scalp, I took a moment to consider. I was exhausted, and when Dad was sick, all he did was sleep, but not getting to see him after this hell week might just be the icing on this cake.
As if he heard my thoughts, my father spoke up. “Livy, you know I love our visits. I’m only suggesting we reschedule this one. You need a break, and I need to stock up on NyQuil. Okay?”
He was right, and I said so.
“I’m always right.” I snorted. He laughed, and it ended in a cough. “Enjoy your free time. And make sure it’s actually free time. You’re not getting paid overtime if you go in on the weekend.”
“How did you know?—”
“I’m your father. I know everything.” He chuckled, sounding so far away the tiny piece of me who was still a little kid missing her dad ached.
“Sure, you do. What am I thinking right now?” It was an old game; one we played from the time I could barely speak.
“You… want fries. Extra crispy, extra ketchup.” He sounded pleased with himself.
I let out a startled laugh. “Yes, but to be fair, I always want fries with extra ketchup.”
“Still counts. I love you, Livy. And I’m serious. Take some time for yourself.”
“I love you too. But I make no promises. Bye, Dad.”
We disconnected, and maybe it was a weird combination of exhausted relief and guilt, but I snapped a photo of the tickets in my hand and sent it to Polly.
Hi, Polly! I have two tickets for the Knights game on Saturday. Would you like to go with me? I think it might be more fun with a friend.
Polly
I’d love to! You should bring a book, though. Just in case.
* * *
I don’t consider myself a flaky person, but I nearly backed out at least three times. I was almost late, but I made it to the arena with a few minutes to spare.
What possessed me to go to the game, I didn’t know. The last one was miserable, but maybe with a less amorous seat partner, it would be bearable.
And I’d never tell him, but I tucked the book Ash sent into my purse.
The gesture was surprisingly sweet. Like he hadn’t minded the blow to his ego of me reading during his game. And I didn’t know how to parse it out. There was no formula to figure him out, no steps to follow, and any wrong move on my part might lead to disaster.
With too many thoughts chasing their tails in my mind, I found Polly outside the arena in the same navy coat as last time. The air smelled crisp as we scanned our tickets and entered, the constant din of thousands of people less assaulting without the additional abrasion of coworkers I didn’t like.
Polly was simply lovely . As we walked and talked, I learned about her great nephew Ethan who’d recently retired from playing professional baseball, and she mentioned her grandson, whom she said she’d practically raised.
“He’s very handsome, Olivia, I’m sure you’d like him.” A mischievous glint in her eye made me wonder what, exactly, she meant.
“I’m sure he’s very nice.” He would have to be if Polly had a hand in his upbringing.
She was nothing like I would’ve expected.
Cordial but funny, clearly well-off, but still able to enjoy beer and a truly astonishing basket of loaded fries with me.
I loved her. I wanted to be her when I grew up. Hell, I still wanted her to adopt me.
As the game neared the end of the third period, I turned to Polly.
“Polly, how do you feel about rock bands? Specifically, covers of eighties hair bands. There’s this concert on Thursday, and my dad was supposed to go but he got sick, and—” Oh, hell I was babbling, the beer that loosened my tongue might’ve loosened it too much.
“Actually, dear, I have plans on Thursday, but I’m sure my grandson would love to go with you.”
“I’m not sure...” My mind said hell no , but I needed to be polite. Although if Polly kept trying to set me up, this friendship wouldn’t last.
“Would you like to meet him? We rode in his car.”
If I’d been less flustered, I would’ve caught that, but my mind was too absorbed by figuring out how to let her down gently.
Polly picked up her handbag and gathered up the remains of her food. The buzzer sounded, announcing the end of the game, and she looked at me expectantly.
Well, it wouldn’t hurt to meet the guy. He wouldn’t be interested in me, either, and we could put this dream of Polly’s to rest together. “Oh, all right.”
Polly’s grin was alarming and all-knowing.
What did I just agree to?
Slow-moving lines of hockey fans waded their way out the doors, but this time, the earmuffs I remembered to stick in my bag helped muffle the intensity of the noise.
The bright lights still assaulted my eyes, but with the worst of the sensory invaders removed, I managed the game alright.
I even enjoyed it a little, though I would never tell Ash that.
Not that I’d see him again. Our dinner date ended abysmally, and besides, I thought he’d agree with me and decide it was best if we never saw each other again.
I ate my fancy dinner, and he got the PR team off his back.
We both got what we needed, with no reason to see each other ever again.
Thinking of Ash made me wonder about Polly’s grandson. What would he be like? The opposite of Ash Wilder, surely. I had a hard time picturing him, imagining a sweater-vest wearing guy, maybe my age, with light hair and eyes. Maybe a lawyer. But I hoped he was at least a nice lawyer.
Ugh, look at me getting ahead of myself.
And I didn’t want to take him to the concert I planned to attend with my father, either.
My limit on strange men was zero, and we already surpassed that with Ash.
I’d let Polly and her grandson down easy, then get the hell out of Dodge.
And maybe grab a pint of Ben & Jerry’s on the way home. Allow myself to wallow, just a bit.
Still wrapped up in my tangled thoughts, I was too preoccupied to realize I wasn’t following Polly to the regular parking garage but to a…gated lot? With a lot of flashy cars.
Did Polly’s grandson… work… here?
Butterflies took wing in my stomach, my body reacting before my brain caught up, and soon those butterflies turned to fireworks, their sparks fizzing along my veins in… anticipation?
What the hell ?
A tall man in the shadows thrown by an open door waited, lounging against the wall in a familiar pose.
Scientists create new molecules by smashing particles together, exciting protons and neutrons of two separate entities until they clash, intertwining and creating something new. I felt like an atom, hurtling toward another at light speed until we collided.
Because that was Ash Fucking Wilder walking toward Polly with his hand raised in a wave—until he stopped short at the sight of me.
“Asher, this is my friend Olivia.” With one hand, she pulled me forward, closer to Ash.
“We’ve met,” I said weakly.
“Oh?” Polly didn’t seem surprised in the least.
I knew the ticket she gave me was for a raffle not an auction, but did she somehow know she was going to win? This all seemed like a setup, and Ash clearly felt the same, given the suspicious brow furrowing coming from his direction.
Also, damn . The man cleaned up well.
For our dinner, he wore clothes I assumed he wanted to be comfortable in, but what he wore now was out of that range entirely. Not so dissimilar in style, but…nicer. Neater, at least. He looked less like he wanted to rip off someone’s arm and more…
Edible.
No, nope. Nuh uh. Do not even think about the man like that.
“—something you wanted to ask Asher, Olivia?”
“Sorry, what?”
“The concert?” she pressed.
Shit, I was between a rock and a hard place. On the one hand, at least I knew Ash, sort of, and we’d already been in forced proximity once before. On the other, he probably hated the sight of me after the night we had together.
“What concert?” Ash didn’t sound annoyed. In fact, he sounded… interested?
“The concert, you know the one.” Polly flapped her hand at us as if we were supposed to complete her sentence. “The one here at the arena on Thursday. Olivia has an extra ticket, and I also know you’re off on Thursday, Asher.”
Wow, subtle she was not .
But honestly, would it be so bad if Ash went with me? Trying to hide my assessment, I glanced at him and mulled it over for a split second.
“What the hell. Oops, sorry, Polly—I mean, why not. Ash, wanna go to a concert?”