A Symptom of Love (GERI Labs #1)

18. Experiments

18

Experiments

S he has several sleepless nights in a row, due to lustful dreams related to a certain professor and some thought-provoking text messages—some science-focused, some focused on other types of science—also related to a certain professor. Combine that with Eleanor’s already clumsy demeanor, and she’s about to show up to work with an ugly bruise on her left cheek. No, not a result of a violent fight—just the unfortunate battle with her load of laundry. Shaking the wrinkles off a wet hoodie that has strings decorated with metal beads, and doing it too close to her face—it’s only a matter of time until one gets whipped by it. One being Eleanor, of course.

“Oh, my god! Who’s the asshole who did this to you? Are you okay? Should I call the police?” is her roommate's supportive response when Eleanor finishes loading the drier and emerges into the living room. “How haven’t I noticed it before?! Why didn’t you say anything?” Alannah runs into the kitchen to grab a bag of frozen peas.

“It’s self-inflicted, don’t worry.” Eleanor tries to calm her down, taking the frozen bag and pressing it against her cheek.

“Eleanor, that’s even worse!”

“No, not what you think.” She laughs and takes traumatized Alannah by the hand into the laundry room to experience her art firsthand. It’s not the first time Eleanor has shaken wet laundry too close to her face, but typically it doesn’t end with more than a red mark—this one might turn blue by morning.

“That’s a very special talent you have there, babe,” Alannah laughs finally. “Luckily it missed your eye.”

And it doesn’t look too good by the next morning. It’s a small bruise with colorful streaks of red and blue. Eleanor considers covering it with a band-aid to avoid questions but then decides it might make matters worse. Her colleagues should familiarize themselves with her special talent. Then thirty minutes into her day at the lab she forgets about it completely.

“What’s all this? Starting your own microcentrifuge tube army?” Aiden appears at her dungeon lab, leaning on the doorframe as he typically does, absorbing all the oxygen in the room and blocking any route of escape, not that she was planning to make a run for it.

Just a typical day at GERI.

“I have a massive protein extraction planned for today. Mano was supposed to help,” she huffs in desperation. “We went over the plans yesterday, I even tested his pipetting skills and timed him so we could be perfectly coordinated. But he bailed on me. I had a feeling he was going to ditch when I told him how many samples we’ll be doing.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Aiden growls. “He needs to learn he can’t just change his mind last minute when other people rely on him. There are too many samples for one person to do simultaneously,” he assesses with accuracy.

“Well, my cells are ready, I can’t wait until tomorrow—they’ll get overcrowded.” Eleanor pulls out one of the plates from the incubator as proof. “Have any better ideas?“ she ventures, but he’s already out of the lab, the heavy door closes behind him.

Jeez, thanks.

Then he’s back with a lab coat, a box of XL gloves and an ice bucket.

“Make some room,” he commands, and as she scooches to the left, he settles himself to her right, putting down the ice bucket and pulling one of the two pipette stands to his side.

“Huh, what are you doing?”

“Filling in for Mano,” he says matter-of-factly, as if extracting samples or generally working on the bench is something he does first thing every day before his morning coffee.

“When was the last time you’ve done bench work?” She eyes him suspiciously. Not even once has she seen his hands-on skills in action since coming to GERI. And that’s okay since he now runs his own lab and a crew of very capable scientists.

“Been a while, but I can assure you, my protein extraction skills are impeccable. I’ve done enough of these to last me a lifetime.” He smirks, then grabs a pipette in one hand and gets to work. Doesn’t seem like he’s lost his bench touch. “Plus, you don’t have too many options here.” A gorgeous smug expression appears on his face and Eleanor has to inwardly kick herself to stay focused.

“These are precious samples, and I have a Western blot planned right after, in your lab, Professor Kowalski. So I’m expecting some quality work here,” she warns.

“You bet, Dr. Benjamin,” he chuckles.

They work side-by-side in harmony; it’s almost like playing a four-hand piano piece. Maybe it’s his drummer skills or the hours he’s logged playing with a rock band. She’s worked with other scientists before, but typically each of them did their part on their own bench, and there was never this level of coordination. As if he’s effortlessly matching her rhythm, anticipating her steps and movements.

She turns to the pre-cooled microcentrifuge to load the tubes, noticing Aiden’s eyes narrowing as they lock in on her left cheek.

“What?” She gives him a puzzled look before her recollection of last night’s unsuccessful clothes washing activities come back to her.

“What the hell happened to your face?” he demands. A handsome, protective expression takes over, followed by a jaw clench and a, “Ellie, if someone hurt you I swear to God—“

”Hold your horses,” she laughs but allows a few more seconds of suspense, setting the time on the centrifuge and starting it. “It’s my own doing. I did the laundry.”

“I am going to need a little more information to understand this one,” he growls, still wearing his pissed-off going-to-beat-up-the shit-out-of-whoever-did-this-to-you look.

His overprotectiveness is equal parts flattering and sexy.

Aiden takes off his gloves, then washes and dries his hands before closing the distance and letting his fingers skim her cheek, turning her head to examine the damage from up close. His gentle touch is a striking contradiction to his mad expression.

“I was trying to shake my hoodie to get rid of wrinkles and the tip of the string slapped me on the cheek.” She smiles, struggling to hide her erratic heartbeat inflicted by his touch. And when his expression doesn’t soften, she adds, “Ask my mom, it happens to me all the time, I’m that kind of clumsy,” she laughs again, “as you may have noticed at the airport.” Eleanor takes her gloves off and covers his hand with hers, letting her fingers brush over his knuckles, leaning into his palm. She watches as his eyes darken, his protective expression turning hungry. Feral. But neither of them moves. Or speak. Or breath.

Well… they obviously breathe, but it sure doesn’t feel that way.

They stay like this, surrounded by flames and fireworks, and air of opportunity, until the noise of the slowing down centrifuge shakes them out of their reverie, reminding them it’s time to let go of each other, put on their gloves and go back to reality.

“Laundry is a dangerous, dangerous thing.” Aiden shakes his head, his face visibly more relaxed now. “Can I talk you out of doing it again?” A faint lopsided smile is starting to pull from the sides of his mouth. If she keeps her eyes fixed on him, she might forget her protein extraction protocol. Not recommended.

”You may not like the consequences,” she giggles and turns to collect the tubes from the centrifuge. They resume their coordinated four-hand masterpiece as the door opens. Professor Harrington walks in, his eyes running between Eleanor and Aiden, and a content smile slowly stretches across his face. The kind that points to him thinking he knows something they haven't yet figured out.

He turns on his hearing aid. “What a pleasant surprise, Professor Kowalski. I see I’m getting two at the price of one,” he quips.

“Yes, I have a big experiment today, massive really,” Eleanor says coolly before Aiden has a chance to tear apart Mano’s career for ditching her. “And Aid— Professor Kowalski has graciously offered to help me.” She tops it off with a bright grin.

“What a wonderful and unusual idea.” Professor Harrington clasps his hands together. “Very well, please proceed,” he says cheerfully and then turns on his heels, turns off his hearing aid and leaves.

Eleanor can already sense Aiden’s presence as he enters the dark room through the revolving door, bringing in a breeze of his scent, sending a pleasant quiver into her core. “How does it look?” he asks, completely unaware of what his voice does to her. Or maybe he is.

“Pushing your luck, that’s bold,” she teases. Aiden typically doesn’t enter the dark room when the lights are off and the red light is on. And more specifically—not when he knows Eleanor is alone in there, peacefully developing her Western blot films.

“I’m a grown man, I can handle myself.” His gruff voice carries through the dimmed red light.

“You sure you can trust me in the dark?” she asks playfully. That moment in the lab earlier may have loosened a few of her self-restraint screws.

He really shouldn’t.

“The key is self-control, now show me the film.” He comes to stand next to her.

Eleanor picks up the film to face the light. “It looks good, but there’s a faint band there I’m not sure about.”

“There’s definitely a band there,” he says, his face so close she can almost feel him breathing.

“I’ll do a longer exposure,” she says and Aiden nods in agreement.

The door turns again, and a guy comes in. “Oh, Professor Kowalski,” he says, surprised, sounding tense to the point of an imminent cardiac arrest. “Would you mind if I use your machine? Ours broke, I just have one film to develop in thirty seconds,” he pleads nervously.

“Go ahead,” Aiden says, giving him a curt nod and walks back to clear the table.

The guy thanks him profusely as his timer beeps.

“Go ahead before me,” Eleanor says, “I need a longer exposure.”

Barely visible in the dark, the guy quickly opens his cassette and feeds the film into the machine. “Thanks.” He gives her a quick grateful look.

She opens her cassette and slides in a new film, then closes it and sets her timer. The room is dark, lit only by the small red lamp shining faintly above the table. The corners of the space are just big patches of darkness.

Eleanor takes a few steps back, very much aware of Aiden leaning against the wall behind her, her shoulders almost touching his chest. She can sense his body heat. “Don’t lean back,” is Aiden’s warning whisper, already anticipating her mischievous plan. His words are muffled by the attempt to not draw too much attention toward them.

The noise from the machine takes over the room. The guy anxiously shifts in front of it, counting the seconds to visualize his results. Or get out of there.

Eleanor smiles to herself and takes another step back, her butt just barely grazing Aiden’s front. She can feel his body reacting instantly, welcoming her. It’s been so long since that kiss. Yet at this moment, it feels as if not even a second had gone by.

“I warned you,” he growls quietly, sounding out of breath. “Don’t you dare move.” His order somehow sounds more like a challenge. So she does just that, closing the last bit of gap between them, pressing herself tight against him, his hard-on threatening to lash at her through his slacks. “So cruel,” he grunts quietly into her hair, his lips gently brushing her ear, sending enticing electrical currents through her bones, his hands slowly reaching for her hips on their own account.

The film appears on the other side of the machine. Eleanor quickly sidesteps before the intruder collects the film and turns back.

“All yours,” the guy says into the darkness, oblivious to the storm that’s been forming behind him. “Thanks for letting me use the machine.” Then he walks through the revolving door and leaves.

“Jesus Ellie! Have some mercy!” Aiden releases a pent-up breath, then turns to adjust his lab coat.

“The key is self-control,” she says flippantly, using his own words against him. “And for a nice Jewish boy, you sure call Jesus a lot.”

“It’s an interesting observation, but you have a few incorrect underlying assumptions there.”

“Oh?” Eleanor steals the Harrington’s signature-intrigued-phrase. “You’re not really Jewish?” Not that it matters, but he’s the one who brought this up.

“I am, but you are probably the only person on earth to mistakenly define me as ‘nice,’ and at my age I don’t think I qualify as a ‘boy’ anymore.” He stifles a smile.

Yeah, this man is definitely not a boy anymore.

“Wow, you like your facts, don’t you?” She chuckles.

“And that completely goes against the ‘no seduction’ rule,” he scolds as the timer goes off.

“Well, you challenged me.” She gives him a sly smile. “I have a soft spot for your challenges.”