Erin dropped her hand. Eyes wide, their startled darkness ringed in gold, her gaze flickered to the marks she’d left on his neck. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to…”
He didn’t answer her apology. He didn’t trust his voice not to crack. He didn’t trust himself. Shoving a random sampling of notes and his laptop into his bag, he left her at the table with his pencil in her fist. He rushed out the door to the nearest supply closet, or server room—it didn’t matter. Because:what the fuck?
Hunched over a sink in the bathroom a minute later with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, he splashed water on his face, wetting his pounding ears and hot neck. It wasn’t enough, though. He stared at the running faucet and tried to breathe. To master himself. His brain, his body. What was wrong with him? Erin had knocked into him with her backpack before, leaving him breathless in the control room. He knew the sharpness of her elbows from their scuffles by the coffee machine, too.
But she hadn’t ever… touched him.
He hadn’t wanted her hands on him. Why would he? Erin Monaghan, with her smart mouth, clever and annoying, posing her suggestion for liquid helium, and—
An adjacent faucet switched on with a spurt. He jerked upright.
“Dr. Meyer.” Tomasz Szymanski squirted soap into his palms, lathered between his fingers, then assiduously rinsed his hands. Only then did he meet Ethan’s gaze in the mirror. “You are… ill?”
“No.”
Obviously, I agree with your analysis.
Her nails on his neck—
He doused his face again, shuddering.
“You do not have a fever? You are…” Szymanski tapped his own forehead. “Red.”
“No.”
“Dr. Kramer is with the technicians in the IT building, preparing a private network access to the servers for his SVLAC computer while he is at CERN.” A damp hand touched his shoulder. “He is not here.”
Dr. Kramer wasn’t the issue.
“I’m fine.” He stepped back from his colleague’s concern, shifting his messenger bag over his belt. “But… thanks.”
Szymanski nodded without making eye contact again, and left the bathroom. All researchers should be like that. He didn’t need to be analyzed by a physicist. He needed…
Forster.
Now.
He pulled out his phone.
Ethan
I know we rescheduled our meetup for Saturday. But are you free tonight instead?
If he could finally meet her, talk with her about art and books and sudoku, if he could just see her and touch her, then Erin Monaghan’s insane hold on him would loosen. Wouldn’t it? He’d rewire his brain around her, because this mania had to be neural circuits crossing and misfiring—
Ping.
Forster
I’d like that. The Salt & Straw on University Avenue, right?
Ethan
Yes. 7 p.m.? We can discuss our progress in This Is How You Lose the Time War. And they have some interesting new flavors.
Forster
The goat cheese, marionberry, and habanero? I like my spice…
