A Symptom of Love (GERI Labs #1)

19. Happy Birthday

19

Happy Birthday

E leanor starts her morning at the Harrington lab, with what has now become her signature morning activity for the past few months since she came to GERI; A brief knock on Professor Harrington’s office door, followed by his part questioning—part expecting, “Yes?”

Next, a “Good morning” chirp from her and then his welcoming, “Dr. Benjamin, please, come on in.”

Not that she had any doubts that he would eventually adapt to her interruptive morning greetings, but he also seems to have developed a soft spot for it, and a daily space on his calendar. Furthermore, Eleanor didn’t expect it to morph into their daily thought-provoking scientific brainstorming ritual, but it has, pretty quickly actually. And she likes it a lot. Professor Harrington has the most unconventional, provocative ideas when it comes to science, and, as it turns out, will take any side in a debate for the sake of debating. And so needless to say, this is now one of her favorite parts of her mornings at GERI. Right after watching Aiden step into the hallway, with his fresh-out-of-shower scent, wearing his signature light blue or white button-down shirt, and charcoal or navy suit pants or slacks. And depending on whether he’s teaching a class that day or not—a tie.

“I have some interesting data to show you,” Eleanor says, opening her beloved lab notebook and lays it neatly on Professor Harrington’s desk.

“Data, my favorite.” The old professor clasps his hands in anticipation.

“That’s my latest real-time quantitative PCR.” She points to the graph of changes in gene expression in her cell lines, explaining in detail each and every aspect of it, topping it off with her interpretation.

“Outstanding,” he says, after listening intently.

“But then I ran another experiment, after transfecting the cells with my new plasmid. Something must have gone wrong here.” She turns the page to the second graph. “This doesn’t make sense.” Her finger resting on one of the data points on her carefully calculated and drawn graph.

“Have you tried to repeat?” he asks.

“Of course. Several times. Threw away the cells and started from scratch, made a new plasmid, repeated the transfection with brand new reagents. Still the same. Must be an artifact.”

“Or an actual observation.”

“An artifact,” she insists.

“Just because we can’t understand it with our current knowledge and tools doesn’t make it an artifact,” says Professor Harrington, closing her lab notebook and handing it back. “Eleanor, you must know that when running experiments, one might come across a once-in-a-lifetime observation they might not be able to understand. This one may turn out to be an artifact in the end, but make sure to explore it fully before you throw it away. The history of outstanding science is built upon exactly those unique and unusual observations that someone was either smart enough or naive enough to explore.”

“Can I join your discussion too?” Mano shoves his head through the door to Professor Harrington’s office, interrupting their inspirational moment, using his best suck-up tone and a smile that only brings about suspicion.

“No,” Professor Harrington says dryly.

“You can come in,” Eleanor offers, “I was actually on my way out. Need to further explore something here.” She smiles to herself, watching the old professor reaching out for his hearing aid, sending her off with a conspiratorial look. He does that whenever they are done debating, and especially around Mano, the hearing aid thing. She asked him about it once. “Background noises disturb my deep thinking,” was his vague response. If Mano is aware, he’s not showing any signs of it.

A thought crosses Professor Harrington’s face as he reaches to his ear again. “Mano, I am not pleased with the way you left Dr. Benjamin all on her own with her experiment the other day,” he chastises. All o n her own makes her sound so incapable. Would he have said it the same way if she was a male scientist? And how does he know Mano ditched? She never mentioned it.

Mano gives her an incredulous look. “You had to tattle-tale to the boss?” He looks hurt.

“She didn’t,” Professor Harrington jumps in to her defense. Not that she needs it. “I walked in to find her dealing with a very large number of samples, an experiment you signed up for. Luckily Professor Kowalski was there to help.”

“Professor Kowalski?!” Mano looks terrified. “Fucking asshole…” he mumbles to himself. His face twisted to an expression she can’t quite decipher. Mad and… evil almost. Talk about overreacting.

“Manners, Mano. Let me remind you that’s a full professor you’re talking about,” Professor Harrington reprimands.

Eleanor grabs her notebook, leaves the two men to it, and takes the stairs down to the Kowalski lab.

“Good morning,” Eleanor sings into the open space as she lets the heavy metal door close behind her. The lab is busier than usual. Surfer Finn and unfriendly Zoe are working hard on wrapping up the last bit of Finn’s five years' worth of hard work. Based on the news he shared on their last lab meeting, he has managed to secure a shiny and well-deserved tenure track position at Johns Hopkins and will soon be leaving GERI for greener pastures. Aiden is extremely proud of Finn and is also two-fold happy; one—because this is a dream come true for Finn. And then the second, less-disclosed reason—less competition for Eleanor’s attention. Imaginary competition that is, because—and it is unfortunate—as much as she would have loved to swoon over this blond-surfer-nice-guy, a few attempts to see whether her heart might beat slightly faster around Finn have so far yielded nothing. Unless Aiden happens to walk by them at the same moment. But then again, that has nothing to do with Finn, and everything to do with her Aiden-induced spectrum of symptoms.

Strange, strange heart of hers.

Aiden’s office door is closed. Perhaps he’s in a meeting? Since her first day at GERI, she hasn’t seen this door closed, with the exception of when Aiden is in meetings.

Eleanor drops her stuff off, puts on her lab coat and gloves, and settles into her experiment. She’s been thinking about those samples on her way to work this morning, envisioning the little wells, deciding on her experimental design, the primers, the controls, the conditions. Since discovering true science, sometime into graduate school, her hobbies, her day-job, and her career have all merged into one. Mind-blowing. And mostly just pure fun.

She wipes down her work area and organizes her tubes and pipettes, feeling the buzz of excitement that accompanies a brand-new project. A series of experiments that will test a pristine hypothesis of hers. Something she’s dreamed up and polished for a while now, has discussed in detail with both Professors Harrington and Kowalski and received a unanimous raving green light.

A noise from Aiden’s office startles her. A loud slam of something. A heavy book? Maybe he dropped something? Then his door opens, and he murmurs something to Yan about a grant deadline.

“Good morning,” Eleanor says from behind her tubes, making sure not to take her eyes off her 384-well plate—yes, Aiden’s lab uses those vicious little things—and if she looks away, despite the urge to see her favorite-blue of his eyes, she might get her entire pipetting order messed up.

“Morning,” he murmurs under his breath, omitting the good , prowling. He exits the lab, letting the heavy door slam loudly behind him.

“Uh-oh, better stay away from Professor Kowalski today.” Zoe releases a general warning into the room once he’s out of earshot.

“No shit. What’s the deal with him?” Yan asks. “Been a while since he looked this grumpy.”

“No idea, maybe got his period,” Zoe says wryly.

So that’s the grumpy side Tara Jones was talking about? A side of him Eleanor hasn’t seen despite being there for several months already—that is, until now.

Eleanor tries to keep her mind focused on her tasks. Aiden goes in and out of his office once, twice, and by the time she’s done he’s out again. She seals her 384-well plate and snugs it safely into the machine. Now it’s a waiting game, until results start trickling in.

“You okay?” she texts Aiden but it looks like her message is not being delivered. Has he turned off his cell phone?

“Eleanor.” Finn steps closer to her bench, raking back his dirty-blond curls. “A few of us are going to SigmaV tonight to celebrate my new position,” he says, his eyes gleaming. “It would be great if you could join us.” He puts his hand on the back of her chair, lightly grazing her shoulder.

Still not a beat out of order… Dammit.

The lab door opens and Aiden walks in again. His eyes narrow at the sight of Finn’s hand on the back of Eleanor’s chair. He passes by them but doesn’t let his glare meet her eyes.

“So will you come?” Finn’s voice snaps her back into focus. A boyish grin on his face.

“Uh, sure,” Eleanor answers, not completely certain what they were talking about but it sounded like a goodbye party, so as a supportive colleague—

Aiden’s office door slams shut again.

What’s going on?

“Great, so I’ll see you there at 7 p.m.?” Finn again.

“Wouldn’t miss it!” She slaps on a smile. Then she gets up and steps toward Aiden’s office, knocking gently on his door.

“Not now.” His voice is muffled by the closed door. She pretends not to hear it and lets herself in, closing the door behind her.

“What the hell is going on?” she asks, trying to catch his gaze. Or glare. Or whatever is going on across his storming face.

“Nothing. You?” he answers tersely, his eyes focused on an imaginary dot on the floor.

“I don’t know, you tell me.”

“Nothing to tell,” he says, exuding some obvious stay away vibes.

It will take a little more than that to deter her.

“Right,” she says, taking a step closer. Aiden stands up and turns toward the window, as if trying to find solace in the expansive view of spring on GERI campus. Cherry blossoms have been filling up the trees, and Eleanor has been marveling at it every single day in the past week, her phone bursting with images she’s taken on the way to and back from work. But right now, it feels like they’ve been thrown into an arctic backdrop.

“It’s not working.” Aiden’s voice and body language a thousand miles away.

“What’s not working?”

“This.” His hand gestures to the distance he’s put between them. “We never talked about dating other people, we missed a point.”

A tiny, insignificant point.

“There’s no rule to that, you can do whatever you want.” Something twists inside her as she says it. Her heart feels like a ton of bricks, threatening a pericardium rupture at any second. Aiden just nods, still focused on the damn window. And it makes everything a million times worse.

There’s someone else in his life now.

Eleanor was NOT prepared for the way this makes her feel. A new symptom entirely. An unbearable one. She can deal with the nosebleeds and the erratic heartbeats. But not with this.

And his silence is killing her.

“Why are you mad?” she asks. Her mind quickly scans through the last few nights worth of text messages—there wasn’t anything unusual, was it? He was asking about what made her happy, she said science, and family . Then returned the question. He said he was still figuring it out .

“Life.” His voice is pained.

“Did I do something wrong?” Because whatever ‘life’ means in this specific context, and whether it’s her sole unintended doing or a twisted combination of unfavorable events, Aiden seems upset with her .

“No. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s me I’m angry at. We need to keep our personal life separate, I need to stay objective. I deleted the app.” His tone bites more than the actual nonsensical words coming out of his mouth.

He deleted WhatsApp. Their solitary means of communication outside of GERI.

This—whatever it was, is over.

“O-kay,” she says, considering how to tread in this brand-new territory. “If that’s what you want.”

It’s not what she wants, but he seems pretty damn determined. And after all— she’s the one who told him she wasn’t looking for a relationship. Not looking for anything is what she said. But besides, with his ‘no seduction’ rule, she’s still holding on to that one single kiss at her apartment, the one Alannah so gracefully interrupted. Before the rules of ethics had to apply.

He rolls his eyes.

What’s that supposed to mean?

“Are you coming to Finn’s farewell party?”

“Party?” He gives her an incredulous look, “I’m not in the mood for partying,” he says, bereft.

If he has someone new in his life right now, embarking on a new relationship, shouldn’t he look a tiny bit excited? Because, really, he looks more like someone who’s been run over by a truck. Several times.

“You’re not making much sense, Aiden. It feels like I’m expected to take part in a conversation you’re having on your own. But about tonight, Finn is your postdoc, you should come, show him how much you’re proud of him.”

A nd hopefully he won’t bring his new date, whoever she is, because Eleanor doesn’t think she’ll be able to handle it.

“You’re right, I should come.” He pushes an irritated hand through his hair. Then gets up, resigned. “See you there at 7,” he grouches, throws his messenger bag over his shoulder, and he’s gone.

Going to SigmaV brings about fun little memories. How she shivered her way through the cold night, going in with the simple goal of returning Aiden’s hoodie, then leaving with perhaps a different—not so simple anymore—goal. Her stupid failed hypothesis.

This time she walks in with Alannah, equipped with a whole new set of goals. These include: Bid Finn farewell, hopefully not meet Aiden’s potential new plus-one (and if she does—try to keep her already taped-together heart in one piece), and try not to drink more than one beer. Her one tattoo is more than enough. Then go back home. Uncomplicated. She has matched her simple plan with a simple outfit as well—skinny black jeans, boots, and an open-back sweater.

SigmaV is exactly as she remembered, warm and cozy. Shinedown’s ‘A symptom of Being Human’ is playing gently in the background, as if someone is purposely pulling on her strings.

The smell of garlic fries makes her stomach grumble, reminding her she hasn’t eaten much today since Aiden’s strange temper tantrum. And then also reminding her of lunch in Aiden’s office every so often. The almost-smile that starts forming on her face is quickly sliced by the memory of Aiden’s freezing cold eyes today, making her heart squeeze too tight in her chest.

“Eleanor!” She hears Finn’s warm voice from the far side of the bar. He’s all smiles and cheerfulness, waiving at her. She strolls over to him, and he pulls her in for a hug, planting a small kiss on her cheek. “So glad you made it!” he says when his mouth is still close to her ear. He really is adorable.

Unfortunately, her mind is helplessly set on the grumpy guy under the gray cloud who’s sitting not too far away, eying them intently and ragefully, looking broodier and more soulful than ever, and mostly glaring at Finn. No plus-one in sight.

Thank goodness. Eleanor’s heart has been spared, at least for tonight.

Although Eleanor and music, coupled with this handsome drummer-professor, is really not the best idea.

“Hey,” she throws a nonchalant greeting at him.

“Hey,” Aiden responds, unsmiling, a beer in hand. His other hand is nervously playing with a colorful cardboard coaster. Then he turns to the other side and starts a conversation with Yan.

It doesn’t take a genius to know when she’s not welcome, so she goes back to the sunny side, where Finn, Alannah and Zoe are already chugging a round of beers.

“Can I get you a drink?” Finn asks softly.

“Corona would be awesome,” she says and a cold bottle with a wedge of lime hanging off the top is delivered to her hand within seconds.

“So what is the first thing you’ll do in your very own lab?” Eleanor tries to shake off the broody vibes and, at least outwardly, sound excited.

“Make hot chocolate on a Bunsen burner for my students,” he says, a playful look in his eyes.

“Trying to get the safety squad to shut down your lab on the first day?” Eleanor chuckles, making Alannah snort.

“I’ll come work for you if you throw in some marshmallows!” says Zoe, Finn’s biggest fan.

“I see you’re making careful considerations in your career choices,” he teases Zoe. “But seriously speaking, I want to excite them, spark their imagination and enthusiasm, like Professor Kowalski has been doing for us.” His eyes are beaming as he talks. “There are some days he calls me to his office with a new idea, and it gets me all pumped up with theories and hypotheses, and then I go back to the lab and pull on an all-nighter because I just can’t wait to see the results,” he says. “But don’t tell that to Professor Kowalski, he doesn’t like it when people work in the lab at night.”

Yeah, Eleanor is very well-aware.

“Completely agree,” Alannah nods. “I don’t know how he does it. He seems all grouchy and intimidating, insisting on his formality, but really, he’s always supportive, always willing to brainstorm ideas and solutions, always available for troubleshooting, despite this ‘by appointment only’ shit sign he has on his door. And lately even that has come off. Now he leaves his door open.”

“Yeah,” Zoe says, “he’s been smiling lately! Well, if you take out today.”

“I’m going to miss having him as my mentor,” Finn concludes. “I hope he’s not mad that I’m leaving, he seemed mad when we chatted this morning.”

“I don’t think it has anything to do with you,” Eleanor jumps in. Because obviously it has something to do with her. “He’s really proud of you.” She pats his shoulder.

“Thanks, Eleanor,” Finn says, touching her arm gently.

Still nothing. Despite Aiden’s new point about dating other people.

Zoe and Alannah embark on a football discussion. Finn somehow takes it as a cue. “And now that we won’t be working together,” he says, pulling her aside, “Do you want to go out to dinner with me sometime?”

“Dinner?” is Eleanor’s best attempt at stalling.

“As in a date,” he clarifies, clearing his throat. She wishes she could say yes, she wishes she wanted to say yes. But it’s already a known fact. The findings are already well documented in her lab notebook. Saying yes to this man won’t be compatible with her long list of Aiden symptoms.

And mostly just not right.

“I’m sorry,” she says and Finn’s face falls, “if I gave you the wrong message,” she continues. “You are extremely smart, and kind, and handsome.” She offers an honest smile.

“But?” he asks.

“My heart is set on someone else. Heavily set.” And hearing these words come out of her mouth surprises her even more than the feelings behind them.

“You have a boyfriend… I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

“Not exactly. It’s complicated. But it wouldn’t be fair to go out with you when—"

“When you’re in love with someone else. That’s okay, I understand. And I appreciate your honesty. Maybe give me a call sometime if anything changes.”

In love with somebody else. In love?

From an angle, she can see Aiden’s eyes burning a hole through both of them.

What’s his problem anyway?

“Whoever he is, he’s a lucky guy,” Finn says finally, oblivious to the scene.

Well, this particular guy might disagree…

“Thanks.” Eleanor smiles and the two of them join the football conversation.

An hour goes by, maybe two. Yan has left for the night. Aiden is not in a talkative mood, still sitting under his own personal gray cloud, chugging another beer. Eleanor tried to keep tabs on his bottles but has already lost count. Is it his third? Fourth? Would the bartender stop him at some point? Where exactly is he going with that? But then he gets up, rolling his car keys between his fingers, looking… wobbly.

Oh no…

“Congrats Dr. Anderson,” he says to Finn. “Well deserved, I’m proud of you,” he adds, his words sound slurred.

“Thank you, Professor Kowalski. For everything,” Finn says earnestly.

“Going home now.” Aiden nods and heads toward the door.

“This guy is an accident waiting to happen,” Zoe pitches.

“I don’t like this,” Alannah agrees, giving Eleanor a concerned look. No one is really doing anything to stop him. Do they not care? Too intimidated to dare get into his business?

“Later people. Going to try to drive our professor home,” Eleanor jumps in. “And you, keep in touch.” She gives Finn a friendly hug, pulls her raincoat on and runs outside into the cold, wet spring night, catching up to Aiden, who’s zig-zagging along the street.

“Where is your car?” she asks, “I’m driving you home.” Thankfully she didn’t even finish half of her one beer.

“I’m fine,” he stammers, “go back to the party.” He tries to pick up the pace but he’s way too drunk to be able to muster speed walking at this point.

“Not happening.” She grabs his car keys, stretching his arm over her shoulder to enforce walking in a straight line.

“I’m okay,” he insists but doesn’t resist. They walk quietly in the direction he’s headed, hopefully to where his car is.

“Do you remember where you parked?” Eleanor asks. And when he doesn’t answer she presses that thank-God-for- the-person-who-invented-car-remote-panic-button, and to her relief she hears his car alarm goes off near them. She finds the car and helps him into the passenger seat. Aiden is not really in a high-functioning state at this point, so she leans over to buckle his seat belt. His warm alcohol breath is on her face.

He’s drunk, she tries to remind herself before her heart starts speeding again and her skin responds with a fresh set of goosebumps.

“Where do you live?” she asks once the car is on and the warm air from the vents starts bringing back the sensation to her fingers.

Shouldn’t spring in D.C. feel warmer?

“Huh?” Aiden helpfully answers.

“Your address?”

Now he doesn’t answer. Perfect.

Driver’s license, this should have his address on it.

“Going to search you up for your wallet, okay?” She gives him a heads up. Her hands dig into his pockets, making her heart risk a speeding ticket. Aiden releases a dazed smile. At least his grumpiness is gone.

“Got it!” she says finally, pulling the little plastic card from his wallet.

Even in his driving license photo he’s handsome. God help her.

The address is in Maryland. Eleanor types it into Waze. Then she peeks at his license again, a double take, taken aback by the little line labeled Date of birth .

It’s today.

“Why didn’t you say it was your birthday today?” Eleanor asks while closely following Waze’s driving directions. It’s her first driving experience in the U.S, in the middle of the night, on unfamiliar roads, with this drunk, handsome man beside her.

Aiden is beyond the point of communication. Her mind drifts back to his matter-of-fact words ‘ My mom died giving birth to me.’

His birthday also happens to be his mourning day. An incredible load of guilt fills her mind, making her heart squeeze so hard she has to struggle for a breath. She pressured him into coming to Finn’s farewell party instead of being there for him, supporting him on this one day he really needed someone in his corner.

But then, that doesn’t really explain why he threw the ‘ dating other people’ bullshit into the mix. And why separating their personal and professional lives had to be done so urgently today, of all days?

“Arrived,” the Waze app announces after the longest thirty minutes. Eleanor lets out a sigh of relief. Well, partial relief—they are there, but they’re still inside the car.

It’s a single house, on a nice quiet cul de sac, surrounded by trees and grass and a white fence. She pulls into his driveway. There are only two steps leading to his front door; at least she doesn’t have to drag him through elevators and long hallways.

“Let’s go,” she sighs, releasing his seat belt. Drowsy but cooperative, Aiden clambers out of the passenger seat and backs into a side hug position, leaning against her. They walk up a cobblestone path decorated with tiny solar lanterns and up those couple stairs. He’s not saying much, but at least can carry his own weight.

“Keys?” she asks, without much success, so she turns to face him, resorting to searching his pockets again. Aiden puts his arms around her, mumbling something unintelligible, turning her key-digging attempt into a hug.

And despite knowing he’s helplessly drunk, has no idea of what’s going on, and will probably not remember any of it, it feels good to be so close to him again. She had no idea how much she missed it.

Sigh…

She finds the keys. A turn of a lock and they’re inside.

Aiden’s home is as neatly and efficiently organized as his lab and his office. Not a single thing is out of place, not a single unneeded object or piece of furniture. The place smells nice too, and squeaky clean. Hardwood floors, large open kitchen, a small fireplace in the living room. Some photos of his family of three on the mantel. And a few colorful abstract photos on the walls—but a closer look confirms that these are images of cells captured using fluorescent microscope. Eleanor can definitely appreciate the creativity and the science behind it, and can’t help the smile creeping up on her face as she recognizes some of these cells.

“Where’s your bedroom?” she asks, not expecting much response as they walk slowly through the hallway. Aiden makes a quick stop to the bathroom before finally finding his bed. He collapses into it while she struggles with his shoes, then helps him out of his clothes, leaving him in his boxers, shirtless, already half-asleep. She hasn’t really had a chance to take a good look at him until this moment. Stripped down to his boxer briefs, that is.

And yep, maybe it was a good thing that she hasn’t seen him half-naked before, because now, after taking a good uninterrupted glimpse of this sleeping handsome man, it’s going to be harder to get a grip on herself throughout those long days at the lab, trying to live up to his impossible ‘no seduction’ rule.

This insufferable man with his impossible, ethical values.

She allows herself a moment of self-torture, letting her fingers just briefly trace his ab muscles, drawing goosebumps on his warm skin. Then pulls the comforter over him gently. “Good night.” She ruffles his hair.

“Don’t go…” His voice sounds far away. Probably drifting off to a dream about that other girl he’s planning to date or is already dating.

The sheer thought of it is dismantling.

“Please stay.” His voice is pleading now.

She can’t leave him like this, on the anniversary of his mom’s death, on his birthday. Too broken and drunk to be alone.

“Do you want me to call someone? Your girlfriend?”

“There’s no one,” he mumbles. “Just you…” His voice is muffled by his pillow. “You’re everything.”

Yeah… He must be confusing her with someone else. Plus his grammar makes no sense.

“Ellie, please stay.”

He is asking for… her.

He needs her.

Eleanor takes a deep breath. “Okay, I’ll stay,” she says softly. She may have spent the last few months breaking all of his written rules. But now she’s breaking all of her unwritten rules at once. “I need something more comfortable to wear,” is all she manages.

“Clo…set,” is his sophisticated response.

“Right.” She opens his closet and helps herself to a neatly folded gray T-shirt and a pair of his boxers. “Be right back,” she says, making a quick stop at the bathroom, ditching her outfit for the comfort of his fresh-laundry-scented clothes and some Aiden-owned-toothbrush teeth brushing.

When she emerges, Aiden is sprawled on his bed, partly covered. She can’t resist and bends over for a small kiss on his forehead.

Gosh, this man smells good even after God knows how many beers.

He opens his eyes partly, and a relieved expression spreads across his face.

“You’re staying,” he sighs. Looking so vulnerable. And grateful.

“Where’s your guest room?” she whispers, but he picks up his blanket and in one swift motion pulls her in beside him. She considers bailing, but he snuggles tightly into her, knotting their legs together. His skin is so warm on hers. It would take an impossible amount of will and torture to make her move. Aiden’s muscles relax instantly, his breathing slows, and within seconds he falls asleep.

And yeah, she’s fully aware he is overly drunk. Fully aware he has no idea what he’s doing and will probably not remember any of it tomorrow. But in this very moment, tangled and cuddled deep in his arms, his slow, sweet breaths in her ear, she feels like she belongs again.