The Chemistry of Love(33)

“That’s different. There are expectations and knowledge there. Predictability.”

“There are also surprises that turn out to be amazing. Teflon. Penicillin. Superglue. Plastic. Vaseline. All discovered by accident.”

Had he read an article or something? “I know that, and I’m always looking for new combinations and new ingredients, but I have a background and an education. I know what I’m doing and can guess how things will turn out.”

“Ah.” He said that far too knowingly.

Wait, what was that supposed to mean? Were we back to him thinking I was predictable?

He handed me his phone. “Did you want to add any details to your contact info?”

I wasn’t sure what kind of details he wanted. He already knew my number, where I lived, and my name. My email, maybe? I glanced at his screen. “You misspelled my name.” I corrected it, added my email, and handed him his phone back.

“Two Ns in Anna?” he asked. “I thought it was short for Anastasia.”

I had told him about my real name? I must have been really drunk. “Apparently in kindergarten, I insisted on two Ns instead of one, and my parents thought it was adorable, so it stuck.”

He nodded. “I can imagine that you were adorable when you were five.”

My heart started to pound in my chest. What kind of compliment was that? And why was I responding to it like he’d just told me I should be Miss Universe?

A car (not a limo) pulled up outside in the parking lot, waiting just beyond the lobby doors.

“That’s my ride,” Marco said. “Thanks for waiting and keeping an eye on me.”

Ha. As if I needed to protect this very muscular and tall man from anyone. He opened the door for me, and it took me a second to move through it. It was like I just wanted to stay there and talk to him instead of going back home.

The cold January air hit me hard, making my eyes sting a little.

I walked over to the waiting car with him, and he opened the back passenger side door. “I appreciate you meeting with me. I don’t want to keep you from a busy afternoon of whatever hobby you enjoy. Like maybe collecting spores, molds, and fungus.”

He was teasing, but I still sputtered, “I don’t collect . . . it was one time for a science fair project in sixth grade, and I won.”

At that, he laughed and said, “Good luck getting home in that thing. If you get lost out there on the Oregon Trail, set up a signal fire, and somebody will come and rescue you.”

With a wink and a nod, he climbed into the car, and they drove off.

“My car is not a covered wagon!” I yelled after him, but he couldn’t hear me.

Marco Kimball was equal parts enjoyable, amusing, vexing, and infuriating.

What had I gotten myself into?





CHAPTER TEN


I drove home, muttering to myself the whole way about dysentery and the buffalo stampedes that I thought should befall Marco on his trip. Oregon Trail. Betty. Making fun of science and my car. Why did that wind me up so much? They were jokes. My reaction made no sense to me. I blamed it on the traumatic events of the last couple of days.

I arrived home quite safely, because Betty was a . . . well, consistent mode of transportation. What she lacked in beauty she more than made up for in reliability. When I got inside, Feather Locklear loudly announced that the Yankees sucked, with my grandfather telling her she was a good, smart girl, that they did suck, and I headed straight up to my room.

The glitter had indeed metastasized and still lay all over my floor, like a shimmering snowstorm that had been localized in my bedroom, but I had to ignore it for now.

I desperately needed Catalina’s guidance. I curled up in a ball on my bed, pulled my covers up, and called her. She picked up immediately.

“I cannot believe it has taken you this long to call me back. There should be some kind of friendship fine you have to pay when you leave people hanging like that.”

“Hello to you, too,” I said.

“There is no time for that!” she said. “I have so many questions. Hang on a second—I need to grab my notebook.”

“You took notes?” I asked.

“Yes. Why?” She said this like I was the weird one for asking.

“No reason.” I paused. “Do you think I should be taking notes?”

“You’re a chemist. I think you know the answer to that.”

She was right. I should be taking notes. This whole thing with Marco and Craig wouldn’t be much of an experiment if I didn’t document all of it.

Catalina kept talking. “Okay, before we get started and you give me every single detail of your encounter with Marco Kimball that apparently lasted for hours, we have to talk about last night. First, I’m sorry I wasn’t at the party. You almost died in a hotel bathroom, and I should have been there.”

“I didn’t almost die,” I said. “Not even close. But why didn’t you go? It’s not like you to miss a work event.” Especially given her long-standing crush on Zhen.

“So get this. I was planning on going with Steve as my date. He called last minute and told me he couldn’t make it because he wasn’t feeling well. I decided to stop by and surprise him with some chicken soup, only I was the one who was surprised when his pregnant girlfriend answered his door.”