Jake Hansen.
Hey Emilia,
Last night was fun. Thanks for leaving your email address. FYI, I don’t normally follow-up like this, but Leo convinced me. I’m not looking for anything serious, but what do you say about having a bit of fun? ;)
xx,
Jake Hansen
CEO of Portola Enterprises
Leo convinced him? I swallow and type a quick reply.
Hi, Jake!
I had fun last night too. I don’t normally do what I did last night, and to be honest, I’m not sure if continuing a relationship with my supervisor’s best friend is a great idea. What say you?
Emilia
I bite my lip as I debate sending. On the one hand, Jake was really nice, and I did have a good time with him. Maybe a little fun is exactly what I need? On the other hand, if Leo finds out… Then again, who cares if he finds out? The only rule I’m supposed to be following is the interdepartmental fraternization rule. I can’t screw around with Leo—thank the heavens—but I can screw around with Jake.
I hit send, my thoughts scrambling.
Screw around with Leo?
Screw Leo.
I place my open laptop on the coffee table and grab my room key. I quickly glance at my appearance in the bathroom mirror. Deciding to pull my hair into a ponytail and change sweaters quickly, I also dab some lotion onto my wind burnt face. Despite the lotion and the fact that I’ve been indoors for two hours, my cheeks are permanently flushed from the cold.
I lock my door, glance at Leo’s door, and continue walking down the hall without stopping. A second later, I hear his door creak open and, wincing, I quicken my pace. I pretend not to hear or notice his footsteps until he’s right beside me.
“Hello,” Leo says, coming up next to me.
“Hello,” I reply formally. I cross my arms. We silently walk to Gretchen’s room together, though I suspect Leo wants to say something as he keeps opening and closing his mouth. Again, I pretend not to notice. If he has something to say, he can spit it out.
I knock on her door, and I hear her quickly scurry to answer it. When she throws the door open, I’m surprised to find she’s not alone.
“Hi guys! This is Damien!” Her face is flushed. I smile. Props, Gretchen. Two hours in and she’s already found her source of entertainment for the next six months.
“Hi,” Damien says shyly. He’s stout, probably five foot ten, and muscled, with short blonde hair and glasses. Attractive. Someone you’d ogle in a dark bar after a drink or two.
“I know you,” Leo says, delighted, and Damien’s eyes light up.
“Oh hey, man. Leo, right?”
“Yup. You’re the fireman?”
“Yeah. Thanks for remembering.” He assesses Leo again. “You’re married, right? Margaret is your wife? I remember her.” He whistles jokingly. Leo tenses next to me, and I bite the inside of my cheek. Though I don’t know what Margaret looks like, I can presume she was beautiful.
Because of course she was, if Leo married her.
“We got divorced,” Leo explains, trying to keep his voice even.
Damien’s face falls. “Shit. I’m sorry, man.”
Gretchen looks at me uncomfortably. I rock back and forth on my heels, unsure of what to say. Finally, Leo breaks the silence.
“Anyways, shall we head to dinner?”
Gretchen practically shoves everyone out of the door, and we all walk quietly to the cafeteria.
As we enter the expansive dining hall, I’m surprised to find it looks almost nothing like the cafeteria at McMurdo. For one, it’s much smaller, and two, it’s much newer. I grab a large salad, glumly staring at everyone’s spaghetti with meatballs. When I sit down, I see Leo eye my plate sympathetically for a second, and then his face resumes its neutrality.
“These meatballs are delicious,” he says between bites, watching me the entire time. I shove a handful of lettuce into my mouth. “It’s too bad the meat is all ground into the sauce,” he adds, and it takes everything in me not to kick his shin under the table. I chew my cherry tomato with a sense of dissatisfaction. He smiles and drops a piece of spaghetti on the floor. My skin begins to itch as I watch him pick it up and… Oh, hell no. I watch him in disgust as he plops it into his mouth and smiles at me.
“Oh yeah… you’re a vegetarian,” Gretchen says, her face worried. Her question knocks me out of my abhorrent germ daze. I hope Leo gets E. Coli. “Shoot. That sucks. I’m sorry.”
I shrug. “The best diet I’ll ever go on,” I say, my mouth full. “I’ll talk to someone about it tomorrow.”
“You guys are all scientists?” Damien asks, eating his meatballs whole. The effect it has on his cheeks is comical.
“Yep,” Gretchen answers. “We’re all astronomers.”
“Cool.” He turns his attention to Leo, and they begin an in-depth beginner’s description of the equipment at the station. The guys aren’t paying attention, so I nudge Gretchen with my shoulder.
“Having fun, are we?” I ask, my tone playful.
“Don’t judge me. I had to get to him before someone else did. It’s cold here, Emilia. Might as well find somebody to keep your bed warm.”
The lights begin to dim, and I see a movie flicker on the large screen splayed across one wall.
“The Thing from Another World,” Damien says, whispering to us. “It’s a tradition to watch all three Thing movies after the last plane departs.”
I look over at Leo, and he looks just as chagrined as I feel. I’m aware of his presence next to me, but I don’t acknowledge him. I turn my attention to the movie, chewing on my salad at the same time. This lettuce is just about the least-satisfying thing I’ve ever eaten.
Leo leans in and whispers in my ear. “You drive me crazy when you eat,” he utters, clobbering me with his words. I hate the way his breath makes the hairs on my neck stand on end.
I huff. “Excuse me?” Turning to look at him, I give him my best hateful glare.
“That expression is even better,” he jokes, running his tongue along his cheek. Bastard. “We both know you don’t hate me.”
I shake my head and push my food away. There’s no use trying to pretend to enjoy the lettuce anymore. It’s a lost cause. My stomach grumbles angrily.
“I never said I hated you,” I whisper back. I turn my attention back to the screen. “Shut up and watch the movie.”
I can feel him smirk from beside me. Just when I think he’s done terrorizing me, he turns his head, whispering again into my ear. “What’s your favorite constellation?” he asks, his voice barely audible.
I scoff. “That’s like asking a chef what his favorite meal is. It’s an unfair question. I study the stars for a living.”
“But you have one,” he says matter-of-factly.
“Why are you so that sure I do?” I jerk my eyes to his and frown. “You don’t know me, Leo.”
“Stop looking at me with those fuck me eyes, Emilia.”
My mouth drops open, and I narrow my eyes. “I am not—” I stop speaking when Leo grins. “Screw you,” I mutter under my breath. His eyes travel down my body unforgivingly, and I suck in a breath of air. When he snaps his head back up, his eyes are darker, his expression serious. I could get lost in the varying shades of green currently present in his pupils. He licks his lips unconsciously, and the gesture is erotic and suggestive.
Damn him.
Before either of us can say or do anything, Gretchen nudges me gently on my other side. Reluctantly, I break eye contact with Leo and face her instead.
“Damien was just telling me there’s a ‘winter-over’ party for all of the winter-overs on Friday. We should go.”
“A party?”
“Yes. I assume you’ve heard of a party,” she teases, deadpan. “It’s this thing where people get together and drink.”
“Right. That thing,” I answer, nodding my head in mock epiphany. She laughs.
“What else are we going to do when we’re not working?”
“I don’t know. I guess I just thought people would be busy.”
“Work hard, play harder,” she mutters, and a few more people turn around and glare at us.
“Mmm,” I say, not exactly giving her a response.
She returns her attention to Damien, and when I look over at Leo, he’s watching the screen raptly.
N I N E
Emilia
“DID YOU KNOW that Leo was married?” I screech. Anastasia beckons my mom over on the couch, taking on the camera singlehandedly.
“He’s married?” she asks, sipping wine and muttering something to Mom. They both laugh at something I can’t see, and it sends a jolt of homesickness through me. I wish I were there with them. I wish I were on the couch eating pizza, homemade and vegetarian, of course, sipping wine and gossiping. I curl my legs into my chest and fight back a wave of sorrow. I am here for my career advancement. I am here for myself.
“Divorced now, but yeah. He was married.” I glare at my mother through the screen. Her once-brown hair is streaked with grey, and though she’s almost sixty, she’s still exquisite. Ana clucks from next to her. She got her coloring from our father—strawberry blonde hair and hazel eyes, freckles, fair skin. We look almost nothing alike. My mother leans forward on her knees and covers her mouth with her hand, talking to me through her fingers.
“You know, Barbara did mention a woman named Margaret a few times, but she never told me that Leo went and married her,” she concedes, sipping her wine. Our orange tabby cat—Bubba Gump—meanders along the back of the leather couch. I swallow thickly. I don’t love cats, but I miss Gumpy more than I’d like to admit.
I shake my head. “It’s fine. I was just surprised.” Ana watches me skeptically through the screen. She’s been quiet the last minute or so, and I can tell she’s analyzing me. A smirk ticks up in the corners of her mouth. “Shut up, Ana,” I grumble.
“Oh my god,” she giggles, breaking out into a full-on grin. “You’ve got a thing for Dr. Kennedy.”
“What?” Mom gasps, smiling at the wrong area of the screen.
I shake my head vehemently. “Absolutely not. He’s an entitled jackass who gets off on making my time down here as miserable as possible.”
“I’m sure he does get off,” Ana jokes, shaking with laughter.
I balk. “Anastasia Harper. You’re a children’s doctor,” I chide, and it only sends her and my mother into another fit of giggles. “Fine, believe whatever you’d like. Just know that Dr. Kennedy and I butt heads at every turn, and I meant it when I said if he turns up dead, I expect the two of you to come up with a believable alibi for me.”
Ana stands up. “I have to take the pizza out of the oven.” She bends down to the camera. “I predict you’ll be in love with the entitled jackass by winter’s end.” With that she turns and strides off. My mom scoots over and looks off to the side of the camera again—she always thinks the picture box of herself is the lens.
“How are you really doing, Sweetie?”
I groan. “I’m fine, I swear. Just a little homesick. I even miss Gumps.”
My mom raises her eyebrows. “Wow, that is serious.” She’s quiet for a minute. “Enjoy your time down there, okay? Don’t let Leonardo get under your skin. He’s a good guy, I promise. Besides, you know what they say… there’s a thin line between love and hate.” She winks.
I laugh. “Yeah. Okay. Sure.” I look away and pull my knees closer. “Is it true you paid for Barbara to go back to school?”
My mom smiles. “He told you that?”
“I’ll take that as a yes.” I pull my eyebrows together and beam at her as she shrugs peacefully, sighing. “You’re a wonderful person, Mom.”
She takes a sip of her wine. “Friends are there for each other. Barbara just needed a push, and look at her now.”
I nod. “Well, it was nice of you.”
“Tell Leo I said hello, okay?”
“Sure. Don’t eat too much healthy pizza.” She laughs, and then we disconnect. I instantly feel empty. I spend the rest of the night reading one of my psychological thrillers—one of the thirty or so that I downloaded for this winter—and then get ready for bed.
I receive an email around midnight from Leo, giving us the day off tomorrow because he has something urgent to take care of. I don’t question it, and instead spend the next day catching up on my research and preparing myself for the rest of the winter. I also take a trip to the general store, stocking up on cereal, powdered milk, coffee, crackers, and cookies. I’ve subsisted on salads and apples for the last twenty-four hours, and even the apples are going to be gone soon. I miss carbs. I’ve been supplementing with croutons, but it’s not the same as a good spaghetti with marinara or even some bread.
Around six, Gretchen comes to get me for dinner. I haven’t heard a peep from Leo all day, and I secretly wonder what he’s been up to.
“Where’s Damien?” I ask as we walk down the corridor.
“I have no idea. Leo came by my room early this morning and plucked him away. I think they’re on some super-secret man mission.”
I laugh. “Must be. That just means we’ll need to go on a super-secret woman mission soon.”
She jerks her head to me and gives me a quirky smile. “Every day. Promise?”
I nod and smile at the prospect of having Gretchen as a friend. I couldn’t have predicted that we’d get along this well. Growing up, I had mostly guy friends. Science is dominated by men, and my priggish tendencies meant that I was often more drawn to men than women.
Gretchen stops before we get to the cafeteria. “Hey, I just wanted to say that it’s been really great meeting you and getting to know you.”
I reach out for her arm. “Aw, Gretchen. Me too. It doesn’t feel like we’ve only known each other for a day.” We both smile.
“That being said,” she adds, lowering her voice, “I think I have a pretty good read on people. And it seems like something is going on between you and Leo.”
I take a step back. “What makes you say that?”
I expect her to reprimand me, but instead she smiles softly. “And I just wanted to say that I think it’s really great. Rulebook aside, I think you two would make an excellent coup—”
“I’m going to stop you right there. There’s nothing going on. He’s not even my type,” I blurt out, trying to distance myself from her onslaught. First my family, and now Gretchen? I think of Leo’s comment last night.
Stop looking at me with those fuck me eyes, Emilia.
I need to distance myself from him. Clearly my eyes are betraying me.
She nods, her warm, searching eyes never leaving my face. “Whatever you say.”
I usher her into the cafeteria to distract her. It’s relatively crowded. Gretchen hunts down a table near the buffet, and I eagerly walk to the metal tins, hopeful for a vegetarian carb at the very least. I groan when I see chicken and green beans. There are bread rolls, so I stock up and grab some extra butter as well. Just as I’m about to go sit down, I feel someone tug on my arm. Damien is standing behind me. He’s wearing a cooking apron.
“Hey,” I say, studying his gloved hands.
“Back here,” he says, motioning for me to follow him into the kitchen.
“Are you sure? Wh—”
“You can leave that crap on the counter. We’ll feed it to the polar bears.”
My eyes go wide and I stifle a bubble of laughter. “What?”
He watches me for a beat before responding. “I actually have no idea if there are polar bears here.”
“I’m pretty sure polar bears live in the arctic, not Antarctica. Wrong pole.”
He shakes his head. “Whatever. Can you just come? Please?”
“Sure.” I set my tray down on the counter and follow him behind the buffet to the kitchen. A couple of men are clamoring around, and Damien hands me a plate full of what looks like lasagna.
“What is this?”
“Spinach lasagna. We made five b
atches today. We also dug around in the freezer and found some cheese pizza and frozen bean burritos. The chefs know you’re a vegetarian now, so just come back here and they’ll heat something up for you when you get sick of lasagna. We made sure there were plenty of legumes, for protein, and if you need to supplement, we luckily had some protein powder on hand. I know it’s not gourmet, but we worked our asses off all day and we think you’re going to like it.”
I look down at the plate and my mouth waters. “We?” I say quietly, though I’m pretty sure I already know the answer.
“Leo. He got me up way early for this. It’s my one day off, but I was happy to help.” He brushes a wave of blond hair away from his face.
“Thank you,” I whisper, looking around the kitchen. That’s where Leo was all day? Baking five vegetarian lasagnas and scrounging around for vegetarian-friendly meals? For me? “This looks delicious.”
“Good. Now go eat!” He ushers me out of the kitchen. “We have a lot of cleanup to do. That was the deal with the chefs—and luckily Leo is on their good side—we have to clean every single thing we use.”
I nod, unsure of what to say. “Okay. See you in a bit. And, thank you again.” I walk out, scanning the cafeteria for Leo. I don’t see him, but Gretchen is sitting all alone at our corner table, so I briskly walk over.
“Where’d you go? One minute I saw you, and the next—what’s that?” She eyes my gooey lasagna.
“Spinach lasagna. Special-ordered.”
“Oh good. I’m glad they had a vegetarian option. I was worried about you with all of that bird food.”
I don’t tell her about how Leo and Damien made it. I don’t want to incite the onslaught yet again. I take a bite and, damn it to hell, it’s fucking great. Of course it is.
Tracing the Stars Page 6