Love on the Brain(72)

“We should celebrate!” someone’s yelling. We ignore him and keep on smiling.

The first time Tim and I had sex, I was terrified he hadn’t enjoyed it. He didn’t call me for two days, which I spent wondering if I was shit in bed—instead of focusing on how shitty he was. In the fight that ended our engagement, he accused me of pushing him to sleep with other women because I was “a total starfish” during sex (I had to google what that even meant after he left). On reflection, our relationship was bookended by Tim making me feel terrible about myself. How poetic.

Maybe in the past years I’ve learned to give considerably fewer fucks about what dudes think of me, and that’s why I’ve spent zero seconds of the last twenty-four hours wondering whether Levi thinks I’m a shit lay. But maybe that’s not the only reason. Maybe it has to do with the way he looked at me this morning, when I woke up on top of him in my twin bed that he accused of being “an instrument of torture repurposed as a piece of furniture.” Maybe it was the quiet, sweetly bashful conversation we had about me being on birth control, and about the fact that we’ve both been living like ascetic monks for long enough that we’re sure to be clean. Maybe it’s the appalled face he made when he saw me guzzle unsweetened soy milk directly from the carton. Maybe it’s the swift, covert glances he’s been giving me all day long.

We haven’t talked much. Or—we’ve talked a lot. About circuits and high-frequency stimulation trains and Brodmann areas. The usual.

Today’s not usual, though.

“Looks like you got it.” Boris comes to stand beside me. He glances at his engineers—currently giving one another celebratory wedgies—with mild disapproval.

“We still need to tweak the neuro software. Then we’ll test the model on the first astronaut. Guy has volunteered.” A euphemism: Guy begged to be test subject number one. It’s nice knowing that someone else is so invested in BLINK.

“When’s that?”

“Next week.”

He nods. “I’m going to set up a demonstration for the end of next week, then.”

“A demonstration?”

“I’ll invite my bosses, your bosses. They’ll invite someone higher up still.”

I stare at him, alarmed. “That’s way too soon. We have weeks before the project deadline, and there’s lots to troubleshoot. Human subjects are involved—plenty of things could go wrong.”

“Yes.” He gives me a level look. “But you know what the stakes are, especially with MagTech so close to catching up. And you know the pushback against the project. We’ve got lots of eyes on us. Lots of people who know very little about science, and yet are very invested in BLINK.”

I hesitate. Ten days is much fewer than I’m comfortable with. On the other hand, I understand the pressure Boris is under. After all, he’s the one who got us approval to start. “Okay. We’ll do our best.” I push away from the bench. “I’ll tell Levi.”

“Wait.” I stop. “Bee, what are your plans when this is over?”

“My plans?”

“You want to keep working for Trevor?” I press my lips together to temporize, but Boris is no fool. “I’ve chatted with him a few times. He seems to be under the impression that we’re making suits?”

“Trevor is . . .” I sigh. “Yeah.”

He gives me a commiserating look. “If the prototype’s a success, NIH will likely promote you, maybe give you your own lab. You’ll have options. But if you don’t like those options . . . come see me, please.”

I stare at him wide-eyed. “What?”

“I’ve been wanting to start a dedicated neuroscience team. This”—he points at the helmet—“is one of many things we can do. Our neuro unit is scattered and underutilized. I need someone who can actually lead it.” He smiles tiredly. “Anyway, I’ll go tell Levi about the demonstration. I’m partial to the way he scowls when I give him bad news.”

I stand there like an idiot, blinking into the distance. Was I just offered a job? At NASA? Leading a lab? Did I hallucinate? Is there a carbon monoxide leak in the building?

“You coming out to celebrate?” Guy asks, startling me.

I shake my head. Celebration seems premature. “But you guys have fun.”

“Sure will.” His eyes lift to a spot above my head. “And you?”

I turn around. Levi is right behind me. “Another time.”

“You have plans?” I ask once Guy has left. I look around to make sure we’re alone, like I’m asking Levi for his secret apple pie recipe. I’m ridiculous.

“I was going to spend some quality time with my cat.”

“Expression night?”

“Schr?dinger and I do sometimes have interactions that don’t involve his rectum,” he points out. “But no. There’s a restaurant. Vegan.” His eyes wander away, as though he’s embarrassed to ask. “I’ve been wanting to try it. We could . . .”

I laugh. “You don’t have to.”

He gives me a curious look. “Do what?”

“Take me out. On a date.”

He scowls. “I know I don’t have to.”

“I’m aware this isn’t . . .” I start to tell him that I know it’s not like that between us. That he doesn’t need to take me out. That the sex was excellent, and even though I’m sore and sleepy and possibly all orgasmed out, I’d be happy to have more. With him. If he’s interested. I’m familiar with the concept of friends with benefits. Bed buddies. Frenefits. Fuckfriends. But then I remember the weekend. Watching Star Wars together, drinking Sazerac. This friendship of ours is older than the benefits, even if just by a few hours, and I’d be happy to spend time talking with him. Plus, he probably has no one to try vegan restaurants with. I’m the same in Bethesda. Yeah, that’s why he’s asking me out. “Actually, that sounds amazing. Do we need a reservation?”