Love on the Brain(23)
“Then tell me! Explain!”
The ensuing silence clinches it for me. The way his jaw tightens, the fact that he straightens and turns abruptly, pacing three steps away as though he is finished with this. With me. You never even started, asshole.
“Right. Well.” I shrug. “I’m going to your superior, Levi.”
He gives me a shocked look. “What?”
Oh, now he is worried. How the worm has turned. How the cookie crumbles. “I need to get BLINK started. You’re leaving me no choice but to go over your head.”
“Over my head?” He briefly closes his eyes. “There is no such thing.”
“I— Do you—” I sputter. God, this man’s ego must have its own gravitational field. He’s a human pit stuffed full of dark matter and hubris. “Do you even hear yourself?”
“Don’t do it, Bee.”
“Why shouldn’t I? Are you going to call StimCase and get me my equipment? Are you going to get us an office that isn’t away from everyone? Are you going to start inviting us to essential meetings?”
“It’s not that simple—”
What an asswipe. “But it is. It’s pretty damn simple, and if you don’t commit to fixing this, you don’t get to tell me not to go to your superior.”
“You don’t want to do that.”
Is he threatening me? “See, I thought so, too. But now I’m pretty sure I do. Watch me.”
I spin on my heels and head for the door, ready to walk straight to Boris’s office, but when my hand is on the knob something occurs to me and I turn around.
“And one more thing,” I snarl into his stony face. “Vegan donuts are for vegans, you absolute walnut.”
* * *
? ? ?
LEVI CAN’T BE too distressed by our conversation, because he doesn’t even attempt to come after me. I’m pumped full of rage and want to march to Boris, but I run into Rocío down the hallway. She’s dragging her feet, staring vacantly at the floor like an inmate on death row. Even more than usual.
I stop. As impatient as I am to get my equipment and ruin a career, I think I love Rocío more than I hate Levi. Though it’s a close call.
“How did the GRE go?” The Graduate Record Examination is like the SATs: a stupid standardized test on which students need to get an absurdly high score to be accepted into grad school—even though it tests nothing that has to do with academic success. I remember agonizing over my scores in my last year of college, terrified that they wouldn’t be high enough to get me into the same programs as Tim. As it turned out, mine were higher than his, and I ended up with several more acceptances than he had. In hindsight, I should have gone to UCLA and left him behind. It would have saved me a lot of heartache and minimized my Wardass exposure.
“Bee.” Rocío shakes her head gloomily. “Which way is the ocean?”
I point to my left. She immediately begins shuffling her feet in that direction.
“Ro, you first have to get out of the building and . . . what are you doing?”
“I shall walk into the sea. Farewell.”
“Wait.” I circle around her. “How did it go?”
She shakes her head again. Her eyes are red-rimmed. “Low.”
“How low?”
“Too low.”
“Well, you don’t need ninety-ninth percentile to get into Johns Hopkins—”
“Fortieth for quantitative. Fifty-second for verbal.”
Okay. That is low. “—and you can always retake.”
“For two hundred bucks. And it’s my third time—I don’t get any better, no matter how much I practice. It’s like I’m jinxed.” She stares into the distance. “Is it La Llorona? Does she want me to quit academia and haunt creeks with her? Perhaps I should depart my scientific pursuits.”
“No. I’ll help you get your scores up, okay?”
“How? Will you cast a counterspell? Will you promise her your firstborn and the blood of one hundred virgin ravens?”
“What? No. I’ll tutor you.”
“Tutor me?” She scowls. “Can you even do math?”
I don’t point out that my entire body of work consists of high-level statistics applied to the study of the brain, and instead pull her in for a hug. “It’ll be okay, I promise.”
“What’s happening? Why are you squeezing me with your body?”
The entire conversation lasts less than ten minutes, but it proves to be a fatal mistake. Because by the time I’m on the mostly deserted third floor of the building, standing outside Boris’s office and ready to rat Levi out within an inch of his life, the door is closed, and I can hear voices inside.
And one of those voices is Levi Ward’s.
6
HESCHL’S GYRUS: HEAR, HEAR
I CANNOT BELIEVE he got to Boris before I could. I cannot believe he sneaked past me while I was talking with Rocío. Though I absolutely should, since it’s the exact kind of dick move I’ve come to expect from him. I actually stomp my foot like a surly six-year-old. That’s what I’ve been reduced to. What do I do? Do I barge in and stop Levi from poisoning Boris’s mind with lies? Do I wait for Levi to get out and focus on damage control? Do I curl into a ball and cry?