by Sarah Noffke
“Do you have any idea how to actually play this game?” I suppress the urge to laugh, although I’m losing my resolve.
Dealing out some cards, he smirks. “I read the rules. They’re lame…so I added some of my own.”
After the last card is thrown out he says, “All right you have thirteen cards and I have twelve because I’m the dealer.”
I scowl at him, fanning the multitude of cards out in front of my face.
Aiden takes a card from the deck and discards. “So, Roya, what are your plans once you leave the Institute?”
I take a card and throw away a two of diamonds. “I’m going to do the reality TV circuit.”
“Oh, is that all?”
I nod.
“And after you grow bored of that, as I’m sure you will? What are your plans?”
I sigh. “I crave some normalcy, so I’m going to bathe in that until I grow tired of it. Then I’ll apply to college. I’m looking into a degree in comparative literature. Stanford has an exceptional program. I’m hoping Trey can write me a reference letter; maybe say something about my role in freeing the population’s consciousness from Zhuang’s greedy hands.”
“Oh, that would get you in without ever having to take the entrance exams.”
“Hmmm…Really?”
“Yes, really.”
“Aiden?”
“Yes.” He looks at me expectantly.
I throw down five spades. “Time for you to add some cards to your hand.”
He rolls his eyes. “Your plans all sound great and all...”
“But…”
“But, couldn’t you do them here?”
“What am I supposed to do, dream travel to class? I’m certain my professors won’t go for that. ‘Yes, I’ll be there even if you don’t see me. Trust me.’”
He smirks. “I’m just saying, couldn’t you find a way to do what you want and also stay here?”
“This coming from the guy who puts his career at the forefront of everything, and never compromises anything for it?”
He takes a frustrated breath, then throws down three cards.
“Is that all you got?” I tease.
“Oh, just you wait.”
The air between us grows quiet, interrupted only by the slapping of our cards as we lay them on the table or pick them up.
“Aiden, this place is suffocating me right now. I have to get away. You understand that, right?”
He stops. Puts down his cards and stares at me across the table. There’s such earnestness in his beautiful blue eyes.
“I don’t even know who I am anymore,” I continue, my nerves humming in my chest. “The people who raised me aren’t my real family. They’re all I’ve ever known. It feels like everything is wrong. My whole life has been a lie. I have so many questions and every time I try to dissect them I get nowhere. I thought Joseph could help me, but he’s…lost. I need to figure out who I am. Please tell me you can understand that.”
He swallows. A rawness fills the space between us. “Yes, of course,” he says. Regret coats his words and I don’t believe for a minute that he understands, or maybe I don’t want him to. Maybe I want him to make me stay, make me need to stay.
“Oops,” he chirps a moment later. “I forgot the music. I’ll be back momentarily.”
Under the bowl of grapes and cherries is a stack of books. I set the fruit to the side and pick up the book on top right as a gentle drum beat echoes from the speakers. It’s soon met by the soft plucking of a guitar. The rhythm is enchanting, calming. The voice that accompanies the instruments is deep, perfectly smooth, and overflowing with soul. I close my eyes and let the chords of the piano wash over me. It feels like I’ve heard this melody a thousand times, but I know this is the first. Opening my eyes I smile as Aiden strolls back in my direction. He returns the smile, eyes bright.
“Gregory Alan Isakov,” he says, answering the question I was about to ask. “I never tire of listening to his music. It has depth.”
I tap the book I took from the stack. “Entanglement, The Greatest Mystery in Physics,” I read from the cover of the book. “Light reading to help you drift off at night?”
A relaxed grin spreads along his mouth. Instantly he’s in one hundred percent Head Scientist mode, passion lighting his eyes, and a thrill in his tone. “Actually, it’s very easy stuff to understand.” He takes a seat on the sofa that sits in the study area on the opposite wall. It’s ensconced with shelves of books and objects. “Come here and I’ll show you a diagram that will make it crystal clear.”
“I seriously doubt that,” I say to mask my hesitation as I take the seat next to him on the dark leather couch.
He flips expertly through the book, like he has all 300 pages memorized.
“Ever heard about the double slit experiment?”
I shake my head.
“How about Schrodinger’s cat?”
Another shake.
“Particle theory?” There’s an edge of doubt in his voice.
“Nope,” I say.
Aiden rubs his hands together, eyes eager. “That means I have the very privileged honor of blowing your mind with quantum physics. Yes!”
You’d think he just won the lottery, with so much giddy excitement oozing out of him.
“I’m ready to have my mind blown,” I say.
Provocatively he narrows his eyes. “Well,” he draws out the word. “Let’s start with entanglement. It’s what I centered my dissertation on. Simply put, the theory states that when two particles have an interaction then they become intertwined. The result to this is whatever happens to one particle will have an effect on the other. And it doesn’t matter how far the particles are separated from one another. They are forever entangled.”
A chill runs down my spine. I’m at a loss as to why, but it’s similar to the way I feel after déjà vu. “That’s crazy. How’s that possible?”
“The quantum world makes all sorts of impossible things possible,” he says enthusiastically.
“You truly love what you do, don’t you?”
“I do.”
“Have you always been this way? Passionate about science? Bordering on obsessed?”
A smile tugs on his perfect mouth. “Yes.”
“Why?” I ask.
“Science, my work, is like music. I feel like an artist driven to create. And I fear that if I don’t push myself then I might die with something really great inside me. That would be the worst possible thing to ever happen.”
I gulp. That makes sense. Perfect sense. Yet it’s heartbreaking for some reason. How can you ever know if you were done, if you’d created your legacy or if you died before you finished?
“Hasn’t there ever been anything else? A hobby? A sport?”
He shakes his head. Maybe this complex guy really is simple after all.
“Even when you were growing up?” I ask.
He shakes his head again, still looking at me intently like he’s having a different conversation in his mind, something secret about me.
“Where did you grow up?”
“Here,” he says, shutting the book.
My eyes widen with surprise. “What? I thought that wasn’t possible. Trey said…” I trail off, trying to make sense of that idea.
“I was a special case,” Aiden says.
“Obviously.” I’m hoping he’ll elaborate, but he doesn’t. “So you really spend all your time working?” I ask again, still disbelieving that this handsome, extraordinarily suave guy doesn’t hang out at clubs every weekend.
“I do. I never let anything distract me…until now.” He looks down at me under hooded eyes.
“What about your family?” I ask. “Don’t you spend time with them?”
He shakes his head, this time sharply. It’s a slight movement, but it means something powerful.
Is he like me? A transplant? An orphan?
“Did the Lucidites take you away from your parents too?”
“No. I grew u
p with them.”
“Here?”
“Yes.” There’s a pause. “They’re dead.”
My face probably says exactly what I’m feeling. Aiden shakes his head again. He doesn’t want my pity. Doesn’t need it. Maybe he’s more like me than I give him credit for. Maybe he’s not all smiles. He opens the book again and flips to another page. He’s reading, trying to find a certain passage or page, but I’m reading him. I feel him desperately trying to avoid the topic we’ve approached. It’s his weak spot, and I gather he doesn’t have many of those. Right now in this space, I feel a brand new pull to him. I’ve always been drawn to his features, his brilliance, his laughter, his passion. But right now I’m attracted to his pain. It makes him human. It makes him real. It makes him something he hardly ever is to me: accessible.
I touch his hand as it thumbs through the book, drawing his attention to me, away from his thoughts. He hasn’t composed himself after our conversation and traces of the pain still lurk in his eyes. We’re frozen in time for a moment, watching each other. I want to pull him to me, but I just stay gripped on his hand, his eyes.
Aiden runs his bottom lip under his top teeth. There’s a shift in the air. His grip slips from mine as he leans forward; the book clatters to the floor. A warm hand slides along my neck until he cups the back of my head. I rush into his lips, wishing he’d kissed me earlier, so ecstatic to kiss him now. My lips part under his hungry pressure. I push back on the couch, letting him direct the space we occupy. Together. His other hand finds mine, entangles in my fingers and guides it to the cushion lying behind my head. Hovering above me, he strokes my neck and glides his lips along mine. Maybe it’s the sensitivity of the conversation that launched us into this moment, but I suddenly feel wild. Bewitched. By him. By what we are when we’re together.
Aiden eases back, separating us. He hovers over me looking intense, almost frazzled as he whispers, “Tell me…please tell me you feel this too.”
There’s no question to what he’s referring. Never in my life have I felt something so pure. So dynamic. It has color and texture. Like a volt of electricity. It’s the charge I feel when his lips touch mine. I bite my lip and nod. “Yes,” I whisper.
Satisfaction flickers across his eyes. “Good.” He dips down and kisses me again, but this time gently, brandishing his lips so lightly against mine, each touch accompanied by a tiny spark. Having been electrocuted before I never thought electricity could feel good, but this current between us is amazing. Intriguing. Stimulating. He slides back enough that I see the blue of his eyes again.
“Roya, I really do understand why you’re leaving. I do.” Fingers brush the hair back from my face. “I’m being selfish for wanting you to stay, but I almost lost you once and I can’t imagine it happening again. I’m not going to complicate things by asking you to stay, but I also want you to know where I stand. Whatever you do I support you one hundred percent.”
“Will you dream travel to meet me?” My question is loaded with hope. “At least every now and then,” I add.
Disappointment falls on his face before he recovers. “Of course.”
“Good.”
My free hand knots in his shirt, yanking him back to me—urgent to feel his lips again. Heat rushes down my body as he trails hungry kisses along my chin and neck. My heavy breaths catch in his ear. Hands I forgot I possessed tug against his waistband, pulling him closer into me, zipping up all space between us. A satisfied grunt reverberates against my neck. I’ve never wanted anything more than what comes next in this moment. I’m starving for it.
He breaks away, a crazed look in his heated eyes. “Although budget meetings feel like they last an eternity, they really don’t,” he says, panting. “You should go very soon.”
I pout and press into him.
Aiden growls in my ear. Nibbles my lobe. I respond by ever so gently trailing my fingertips up his lean back. He shivers. I’m about to press my lips to his again when he grabs my free hand and locks it above my head with the other one, a wolfish grin plastered on his face.
“Ms. Stark, are you trying to seduce me?”
“Is it working?”
“You don’t even need to try, but the point that you are is making it increasingly difficult to resist you.”
I peer up at my restrained hands above my head. “Is this you resisting me? Because it looks like you’re trying to make me resist you.”
Aiden leans in closer and howls quietly, his breath stroking my cheek. One single kiss graces my lips before he rocks back, taking a seat on the far side of the couch. “I still have to work here even after you’ve gone skipping off to Texas. So against my every desire I have to insist you leave.”
“You don’t have to work here,” I suggest. “There are other, non-corrupt, places you could find employment.”
He gives me a tempting smile. “We both know I’m not suited for the real world.”
Chapter Fourteen
To my astonishment, the Institute is actually paying me for my news reports. I thought it was charity work or my exchange for room and board. A bank account has already been set up for me and the Institute is depositing $400 into it for each of my reports. Being paid to news report actually puts a new pressure on the job. It was easier to deliver stories when I thought I was giving away information. Now it’s weird knowing whatever I report equates to cash. Still, that anxiety doesn’t deter me. I love news reporting and will miss it like crazy when I leave. I’ve never had a job. Hell, as a kid I didn’t have a clue what I wanted to be when I grew up. Now I’m a member of an elite department and making more in a week than my fake father makes in a month.
The Panther room always smells of sweet grass, with a soft undertone of gardenia. It’s the only place in the Institute with such a complex aroma. Not even the main hall at dinner time is that intoxicating. A constant buzzing sound emanates from the computer stations and the bluish light overhead gives off a gentle hum.
The fondness I’ve grown for this space in such a short time leaves me in a new state of vulnerability. The idea that I’ve become attached to the job is disconcerting and completely out of character. Maybe my apathetic nature is eroding. Aiden is probably partly to blame for this. And still, I know leaving is the right thing to do. It’s not like I’m a Middling, bound to a single place and time. Everyone’s acting like I’m going to a different planet. I get that Texas is pretty much Mars, but I still have dream travel. Samara and I’ll spend our nights hanging out in Phoenix and New York. When Joseph comes around we’ll find our own special places to haunt. And every now and then Aiden will grace me with his presence in Egypt or Budapest or wherever he likes to go when he’s not in his lab. Of course, I know being in the flesh is always better, but still. I made the expectation clear to Joseph and I can’t go back on it. If I did then he’d never take me seriously. And still I think he’ll change his mind at the eleventh hour. Concede what he’s working on. And if he doesn’t then maybe by leaving I’ll stop him from further work on this demonstrative project by taking my energy reserves from him. Because there’s only one thing more important than my friends, my work news reporting, and my love for Aiden: Joseph.
I settle myself in my familiar station, trying to put my attachments out of mind and focus on the present moment. My breath slowly softens. I invite serenity into every inch of my body. This is a gradual process, one that can’t be rushed. But today, I sink into stillness quicker than usual. A large room flashes into my vision. Multiple tables fill the space, their surfaces crowded with electronics. Cabinets streak the walls. A song plays in the background. Aiden’s lab. My heart leaps when I see him sitting at a nearby workstation screwing something into a device. Guilty tension surges through me for spying on him like this. But it’s not like I meant to. And isn’t that what news reporting is all about?
His dark hair, currently not governed by product, falls into his eyes when he leans forward. Distracted, he pushes it away from his face. I wish his unruly hair would flop back
on his forehead, just so I could watch him do it again. When he looks up, there isn’t that same expression of wanting he usually has when he looks at me. His gaze is speculative. “I’m almost ready to take another round of readings.” He drums his fingers on his lips. It’s an adorable gesture that he does when something is momentarily stumping him. “I’ve got to figure out what we missed the last time.”
The vision retracts until I see the person Aiden’s talking to. Nervousness cocoons my being. George’s eyes are closed. He’s chewing on his lip. His eyes open to reveal his deep brown eyes. “What you missed,” George says, tone clipped.
Distracted by his thoughts, Aiden glances at George. “Pardon?”
“I’m only the lab rat. You’re the scientist.”
“Right,” the Head Scientist says, scratching his head. “And you say lab rat like it’s a bad thing. Numerous discoveries may not have occurred if it wasn’t for those four-legged creatures. Besides, I’m not running tests on you, but rather studying how your empathesis works. That puts you in a very special league of lab rats,” he says with a laugh.
George gives him a mutinous expression. “Why wasn’t the first round of readings enough?”
“I’m not sure. My guess is it didn’t provide enough data to change the programming in the modifier. All I know for certain is with the new encoding the modifier still isn’t successful at changing or erasing emotions.” He shrugs. “This is all about trial and error, really. We’ll keep trying until we get it right.”
“Are you going to need me to be involved for each trial?” George says evenly.
“I’m afraid so. Each time it doesn’t work then that means I have to take another set of readings on you. I’m trying to copy the structure of your empathesis, which is about like blueprinting your DNA. Does that make sense?”