Total pages in book: 167
Estimated words: 164557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 823(@200wpm)___ 658(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 823(@200wpm)___ 658(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
“Yet you didn’t do that with George…”
“He seemed like the kind of person who would abuse the privilege.”
“Oh, one hundred percent.”
“And you seem like the kind of guy who won’t do that.” I pause. “Despite being a jock.”
“Despite? What, you think jocks are more likely to abuse phone privileges?”
In my experience, absolutely. Some of the ones I’ve been with still send me lewd messages in the middle of the night hoping for a repeat. But Will seems like a normal, noncreepy guy, so I’m willing to take the chance.
When our former lab partners finally walk in, hand in hand, George catches me looking at him and stops at the table.
With a dramatic sigh, he rakes his hand through his frizzy brown hair. “I guess you heard.”
Somehow, I manage to mask my amusement. “I did.”
“It’s better this way, Charlotte. You’ll see.” He pats my shoulder and continues to our old station, sitting next to Lourdes.
Will snickers under his breath. “That was truly brave of him to switch lab partners right before midterms, knowing it would leave you devastated.”
“Heartbroken.”
We’re starting a new unit today. Monica emailed us the experiment instructions this weekend, and it sounds straightforward enough. We’re supposed to create a tissue scaffold and determine its ability to support cell growth.
I give Will a stern look. “This is your first test.”
“What am I being tested on?”
“How well you follow instructions. And whether you love my jokes.”
“Loving your jokes is a requirement?”
“To being a good lab partner, yes.”
We organize our supplies and go over the experiment. The first order of business is to prep the polymer solution needed to create the scaffold.
“Want to take the lead?” I offer.
He narrows his eyes. “Is this another test?”
“Obviously. Don’t screw this up.”
“But no pressure, right?”
Grinning, he pours the solution into the scaffold molds, which are going to be placed in a controlled environment where they can solidify and form the scaffold.
“Hey, Will,” I say as I watch him pour. He has steady hands. I like that. “What did the biologists name their son?”
“I don’t know, what?”
“Gene!” I’m unable to contain my laughter.
He groans, but when he lifts his gaze, I don’t miss the smile that’s crept onto his face. “That was terrible.”
“You entered into a formal agreement to love my jokes,” I remind him.
“I propose we amend the phrasing of love to tolerate.”
“Motion denied.”
He returns to concentrating on the task at hand. When I hear my phone buzz in my bag, hope explodes inside me. I knew I’d get a message from him today.
Noting that Will has everything under control, I fish out my phone and check the alert.
My excitement dissolves.
It’s not from BioRoots.
Once again, disappointment flutters through me, but it’s not as crushing as before because the notification is another I’ve been awaiting. A message from one half of my abs sandwich. I think about this chat so often, it’s starting to get embarrassing.
LARS & B:
Hit us up later tonight if you’re around—B
My heart does a teeny flip. I’ve still only spoken to B, who told me he’s the one with the blond hair and gray sweatpants. Which feels all wrong, because Lars fits the blond bill better with his Swedish name.
Then again, who’s to say B doesn’t have a Swedish name as well? Ooh! Like Bjorn.
I mean, if it’s not his name, it is now.
I slip my phone into my bag, a small smile playing on my lips. Then I look over to find Will watching me.
“Who was that?” He raises an eyebrow.
“Nobody. Just a friend.”
“Just a friend who makes you smile like that?”
I feel a blush creep up my cheeks. “Shut up.”
“Boyfriend?” he guesses.
“No.”
“You’re blushing.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Your face is bright red.”
“Whatever. Get back to our scaffolds, or I’ll ask to work with George again.”
He laughs. “All right, I’ll drop it.”
We return to our work. It’s quiet for a while, until Will breaks the silence.
“So…if a plant is depressed, do you think its other leaves photosympathize with it?” he asks with a straight face.
I groan. “Oh my God. That was atrocious.”
“Hey, just trying to keep up with the queen.”
After class, we walk out of the lab together into the usual buzz of chatter filling the hallway. We won’t be able to seed the cells until tomorrow, since the process we’re using for scaffold fabrication takes up to a day for the solvent to evaporate and everything to solidify.
As we head out of the building, we make plans for Will to pop in to check on the scaffold in the morning. It’s windy outside, and the late-afternoon breeze snakes underneath my hair and whips it into my face.
I shove it away in time to catch sight of a few hockey guys at the bottom of the front steps. One of them calls out to Will, and I stifle a groan when I realize it’s Beckett from my morning class. Ugh, I hope he doesn’t notice me.