A Symptom of Love (GERI Labs #1)

21. Conferencing

21

Conferencing

L ess than an hour later, they’re sitting in the Kowalski lab meeting at the GERI conference room. The problem with deflecting distracting conversations with potentially steamy solutions is that leaving things unfinished may be an even greater distraction. She rushed out of bed without even a second to shower, shared Aiden’s toothbrush, and borrowed one of his hoodies—because showing up to work wearing the same clothes as she did last night after taking her drunk professor home under her lab colleagues’ watchful eyes could really only mean one thing, which—thanks to the ‘no seduction’ rule and mostly an annoying phone alarm—did not happen.

But now, every time her knee grazes his, or her eyes just briefly travel to that gorgeous blue in his—yes, she has been engaging in her own kind of self-torture—a rush of electricity runs down her spine and a pleasant shiver courses through her core.

Urgh…

“Now go pack up for your trip,” Aiden reminds her after they all come out of the conference room. She’s been excitedly counting the days, waiting for this moment, but the last twenty-four hours were distracting enough to almost make her forget about the CONFERENCE!

“Word is out that Professor Kowalski has confirmed his attendance at the conference,” is the news from Alannah as she appears beside Eleanor, who’s busy throwing, then folding, her most presentable clothes and shoes into her suitcase, and double-checking the volume of her not-small-enough shampoo bottle.

When her abstract had been accepted for a poster presentation at her dream conference, which happens to be taking place in sunny San Diego this year, Eleanor was ecstatic, jumping to the ceiling in Professor Harrington’s office. He looked like the epitome of a proud father, despite the fact that he never actually had kids himself. And yes, it was just one poster out of many, not a big deal for the experienced scientist, but who said you couldn’t celebrate the small wins? And her excitement was contagious.

Aiden was sitting right across from Professor Harrington in what looked like their regular, thought-provoking scientific discussion. And while it’s not unusual for Eleanor to burst into Professor Harrington’s office with news—usually with some exciting data, or new world-rattling results—it was Aiden’s first time witnessing it. He looked amazed. Eleanor didn’t think it was her poster acceptance news—he had been very confident that it would get accepted. Maybe it had to do with how naturally Professor Harrington reacted to her barging into his office. Indeed, the old man was adjusting to Eleanor’s style. He had even expressed his regrets for not hiring women scientists throughout his entire career because Eleanor was his ‘ most productive postdoc.’ Professor Harrington’s words, not hers.

Ha!

She’d been working extra hard to prove her point, and it was working. She had mentally patted herself on the back.

So between the two professors, a plan quickly formed—Eleanor’s travel budget to the San Diego conference would come from both the Harrington and the Kowalski lab funds, split fifty-fifty. Harmony. Professor Harrington had said he was too old to travel and Aiden too busy, so it was just her and Alannah, who was also presenting a poster—and they were to share a room at the designated conference hotel. Bliss. Oh, and Mano, who’d somehow gotten onto the attendee list last minute, pulling the ‘I never get to go’ and the ‘She’s only been here for a few months and she’s already going’ cards on Professor Harrington. So him too, rooming with another postdoc from their building.

“Ground control to Ellie,” Alannah’s voice brings her back to the moment.

“He said he was too busy to attend,” Eleanor protests, because running into Aiden in a hotel in romantic San Diego is not exactly ideal after her almost hit-and-run or whatever it was she was doing in his bed last night. And this morning.

“Maybe last night changed his mind?” Alannah gives her a knowing look.

“Nothing happened last night. He was so drunk.”

“Says the girl who stayed over,” her roommate teases.

“I just didn’t want to leave him alone.”

“Uh-huh,” is Alannah’s articulated response.

“I’m serious. Sex with an unconscious man is even less ethical than getting in bed with my professor.”

And technically, she did get into his bed. Even helped herself for a pair of his boxers.

“It didn’t look like nothing to me this morning,” Alannah giggles.

Yes, and then there’s this morning.

“Well… almost nothing.”

“Almost nothing, except you two are infatuated with each other. Peanut butter and jelly, hot chocolate and marshmallow. All vegan ingredients of course, we don’t like dairy,” Alannah says brightly, despite being fully aware that Eleanor and Aiden are trying very hard to keep things on a professional level.

“Oh, please.” Eleanor blows a breath upward, trying to move her bangs off her now-sweaty forehead. Their last discussion still echoes in her head, Aiden’s helplessly trying to claim that his feelings for her were… are irreversible. But that’s too scary. And on the other side of the spectrum is the fact that Aiden deleted his WhatsApp, which means no more late-night texts and outside of work communications. And taking that away bothers her more than she cares to admit.

Another big URRRGH.

“I’m pretty sure he marked himself OOO on the lab calendar and asked Mrs. Jones to book him a room at the same hotel we’re staying at. I heard her telling him she called the hotel and miraculously they had a cancellation, so he was able to get a room. Those hotels usually book up faster than light.”

“Man…” Eleanor sighs. Somehow going to the conference doesn’t feel like an escape trip anymore.

“Ellie, he’s coming to support you, like the good boyfriend—" Alannah gives out a vocal cough before amending to— “mentor, that he is.”

“He’s coming to support us , he has two postdocs presenting in this conference. The end.” Eleanor sighs again and returns to packing.

“You may want to ditch the old underwear for these!” Alannah pulls out a few presentable pairs from Eleanor’s drawer and neatly shoves them in the suitcase.

“Are you with me or against me?”

“Both,” Alannah laughs.

“I thought you believed in abstinence until marriage.”

“Well, when it comes to you and Professor Kowalski, there are some rules worth breaking,” Alannah gives her a wink. “You need a dress.” She disappears into her bedroom and instantly comes back with a black cocktail dress. “Dress to impress!” she announces, a jovial grin stretched on her face. Eleanor just sighs.

The Uber ride to the airport and the flight to San Diego go smoothly, that is—no sign of Aiden. Maybe it was just Alannah’s creative idea of a prank.

Eleanor is proudly carrying her poster—rolled inside a plastic tube—in one hand, pulling her suitcase with the other. They check in at the hotel and go for a walk down the San Diego streets, try out that beer tasting place everyone talks about and get some next-level Mexican food. Things are still looking bright when they put on their business attire and appear at the registration desk to pick up the fancy conference lanyards with their badges and a printed program booklet, or rather—giant book. People are starting to trickle in, get reacquainted with old friends and colleagues, and introduce themselves to new ones. The air is buzzing with excitement; A few days of lectures, presentations, and discoveries. Scientific heaven.

When they break into sessions—Alannah to her cancer epigenetics session of choice, Eleanor to a session on epigenetic components in autoimmune processes—there’s still no sign of Aiden. But that’s okay, because as far as she knows, his attendance at this conference is an urban legend, and not experiencing potential tempting situations is probably the best avoidance strategy.

And it works, at least for the night. Well partly, because she can barely sleep, but she blames it on the excitement of tomorrow’s poster presentation and braving her way through a WhatsApp withdrawal syndrome—somehow she resists testing whether Aiden truly removed that mighty app from his phone. At some point she falls asleep, grateful to see light shining through the curtains when she opens her eyes again. A new day.

There’s no sign of Aiden at breakfast either.

“You look disappointed,” says her observant roommate, enlightening her with thoughts she had no intention of considering. But now that this seed has been planted, Eleanor has to admit… despite the fact that they’re both better off not seeing each other here, at a hotel overlooking the sunny San Diego beaches, she is disappointed.

“Disappointed? No I’m not!” And of course denial is her best bet right now as she nonchalantly stretches the napkin across her pencil skirt, making sure her business attire stays clean for the poster presentation.

“Who’s disappointed?” They hear Mano’s voice carrying itself to their table. He’s holding two platefuls of breakfast meats and situates himself between Eleanor and Alannah, creating a pleasant breakfast atmosphere for vegan-can’t-stand-the-smell-of-meat Alannah. Then he tops it off with giving each of them a slow, unpleasant once over and filling the air with sexist jokes and anecdotes. Until they finally break into their morning sessions.

Around noon, they all join forces at the largest hall. The poster session has officially started. Both Alannah’s and Eleanor’s posters are already on display, one next to the other, awaiting the large crowd that will soon fill up the space. A Stanford professor is already by Eleanor’s side, introducing himself politely, complimenting her on her work and asking for a poster walk-through. Her favorite topic. A few students and postdocs join in on her on-the-fly presentation. Another professor from UCLA, a few students, and some industry scientists all ask her to walk them through her poster, offering fresh perspectives and ideas.

Then life comes to a sudden halt because… Aiden. He’s casually traveling the aisles of posters, chatting, asking questions, listening to presentations. He looks so handsome in a suit and tie, freshly shaved, his dark hair arranged in that perfect way that somehow looks elegant and tousled at the same time. A conference lanyard and badge rest on his expansive chest.

Damn…

She can see his eyes searching until they meet hers. His serious gaze brightens and the slightest of smiles rides up his face. One blink and she’d miss it.

Good luck! he mouths before letting himself blend in with the crowd.

Eleanor keeps her focus, eagerly discussing her research with a group of postdocs from the National Cancer Institute, and then with a bunch of other professors who stop by with thought-provoking questions, a challenge she gladly takes on. Alannah is also doing her fair share of presenting next to her own poster.

A couple hours go by in a matter of seconds.

In between visitors, Eleanor reins in her desire to let her eyes drift to Aiden, for the most part. Until the session is done and Aiden is back at their side, praising her and Alannah, looking proud as ever. He takes a few pictures of them by their posters, keeping everything on a professional level.

“Man! You girls looked hot in your business attire.” Mano’s voice sounds behind them before his sly smile makes its appearance, gracing them with his unsolicited opinion. “All fancy and serious, speaking to all these important people!” Of course, he doesn’t skip a repeat of the morning once-over. This time it’s somehow even slower, almost excruciating.

“Thanks Mano,” Eleanor chooses to say, watching Aiden turns his head toward him, eyes narrowing.

“I can see why professors would want to hire women to work in their labs. I could spend my entire day just watching your sexy figures walk around the—"

“That’s enough!” comes Aiden’s irritated voice, taking a protective step closer to Eleanor. “You’re out of line.”

“Oh, I’m out of line?” Mano’s face morphs into some sort of a vicious expression. Or maybe it’s just Eleanor’s imagination.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Aiden growls,

But Mano just turns around and leaves, chanting “Fucking asshole,” behind him.

“Well, that was awkward.” Alannah decides to be the first to break the new ice layer that’s quickly spreading.

“Just when I was beginning to think that the Harrington lab was making progress.” Eleanor’s voice is a bit scratchy from the constant speaking, her legs a bit tired from standing on her high heels. But despite Mano’s interesting remarks, call it jealousy? Call it being stuck in the Stone Age? She still feels elated, filled with a sense of accomplishment. High on science, that’s what she is. And there’s nothing Mano can say or do that could ruin this moment for her.

It takes a couple more hours until the low caffeine in her bloodstream starts giving out desperate signals. That, combined with the post-presentation drop in adrenaline equals a unique emergency of sorts. So when Aiden is off for a meeting and Alannah goes to check out the freebies at the vendor show, Eleanor embarks on a caffeine hunt across the road from the conference. Only instead of caffeine, she finds something else.

Someone else, to be precise.

Spoiler—it’s the last person she wants to see.

Re-spoiler—she only has one name on her people-she-doesn’t-want-to-see list.

Re-re-spoiler—despite the interesting night and yesterday morning at Aiden’s bed, the drunk confessions and way too many unfulfilled needs, Aiden is not on this to-be-avoided list.

The unmistakable voice strikes her ears first, along with the Hebrew that takes her by surprise because it’s been a while since she’s heard Hebrew outside of long-distance conversations with her family and Gillie. And even longer since she’s heard this particular voice. At first Eleanor slaps herself inwardly, trying to will her wild imagination to stop the psychedelic hallucinations. But when this attempt fails, she resorts to making herself as invisible as possible, which fails as well, because she’s already been spotted.

Bamba, her childhood Labrador retriever, may he rest in peace, used to think that freezing on the spot made him invisible, acutely unaware that a seventy-pound dog can’t just disappear into thin air. But at this moment, she understands this desperate instinct, which he’d deploy when caught with a helpless bird that he found in the backyard in his mouth, or spotted happily feasting on a piece of chicken he stole from the dinner table. Not that Eleanor stole any food, she hasn’t even found a decent coffee place, but she’s definitely caught off-guard when the person on her didn’t-want-to-see-list pulls her into his all-too-familiar hug.

Oren Hason. The Oren Hason. The drummer. The same guy who regards himself as her mythological ex . Is here, in San Diego, at the one coffee place she was about to try. Doing God knows what.

“Ellie!” He is as surprised to see her as she is him, only he looks extremely pleased with the prospect, as if he’s into saving birds and a wounded one has just landed in his hand. While Eleanor is…

Whatever would be a complete opposite of that. A fallen bird with human PTSD?

Why is she thinking about birds? She has no idea. Perhaps a result of severe caffeine deficiency combined with memories of her late, beloved dog Bamba.

Oren keeps his hand on her shoulder for old times’ sake, staring into her eyes as if trying to retrieve all the information he’s missed in the past five years.

“I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately, and here you are!” He says in Hebrew. One would think that hearing Hebrew again would bring the warm feeling of home back to her, but surprisingly—when it’s packed in Oren Hason’s voice—it doesn’t. It just makes her feel distant. And lonely. Lonelier. “Join me for coffee,” he offers in Hebrew, “let’s catch up.”

So many hours and days had been wasted on willing such a moment to happen. On thinking about running into Oren accidentally, just like this. Analyzing how it would make her feel, what they’d talk about, the way they’d look at each other again, touch each other again. How her heart would race again, how everything would go back to feeling warm and fuzzy inside. But nothing prepared her for the way she feels right now, which is—

Nothing. Not the slightest excitement. No nostalgic feelings. Not a single heartbeat out of place.

That is, until a short moment later, when her heart starts thumping and her legs feel wobbly, and an arm loops around her waist, pulling her tightly and possessively into the strong body attached to it. That’s when she knows Aiden has summoned himself to her rescue, once again. A different kind of rescue this time.

“There you are, baby.” Aiden smiles widely at her, yet with some slight apprehension in his beautiful blue eyes.

And she loves the sentiment.

He’s still wearing his on-brand light-blue button-down, now without the jacket, dousing her in his impossible fresh-out-of-shower scent and bearing that conference lanyard with his name and affiliation on his hard, impressive chest.

The novelty of this man will never get old.

Her eyes thank him wordlessly and her body melts into his proximity. That little wounded bird, if one insists on using the same analogy, at least until she gets her caffeine fix, is drawn to safety. Although, really, Eleanor doesn’t feel little, or wounded.

Not anymore.

Hmmm. The effects of a phenomenon called—Aiden.

She tries for an introduction. “Aiden, this is Oren, my ex—“

“Ellie’s mythological ex,” Oren interrupts her proudly, as if this is an Olympic achievement, eloquently switching back to English.

Heck, can he gloat any further? There were times in her life she actually thought a mythological ex was a real thing, or at least her reality, but that was before Aiden stormed into it and stirred the whole thing completely.

“That’s debatable.” She can’t help herself. “Oren, this is my ad—" She’s about to say advisor , just because it might sound morally better than mentor or professor, but Aiden beats her to it, leaving her mentally gaping with his—

“Aiden, her actual boyfriend, and myth-buster.” The words seem to casually slip out of him with such an impressive amount of certainty, she almost believes it herself. He has a content smile on his face for nailing this pissing contest, and Eleanor resists the urge to raise her eyebrow at him. One—because of the rarity of his smile. She’d give everything to make sure it stays on. And two—because the stunned-disappointed look on Oren’s face is worth every bit of potential trouble this slippage might cost them or their careers.

The two men vigorously shake hands. Miraculously, next to Aiden, Oren looks less like the cloned version of Thor she remembered and more like… a regular person. He still looks good, still the badass drummer that he is, Eleanor can give him that, but that’s about it. He doesn’t at all match the idealized memories that her brain had skillfully nurtured. And certainly no more butterflies.

Not for him, that is.

“Funny, Ellie never mentioned you,” Aiden says brazenly.

What a bold lie.

Oren rolls his sleeve up his heavily inked forearm, exposing his replica of his and Eleanor’s Hebrew initials inside a heart, the same ludicrous tattoo as the one living on the left side of her butt. “I’m the proud inspiration behind her sexy ass tattoo,” Oren smirks.

Great. Round two of their pissing contest.

And HOLY SHIT, this round is rigged, because:

Aiden despises tattoos, that’s a known fact, at least to her.

She hasn’t really gotten around to tell him that she has one, and that it’s on her butt, and mostly—

She hasn’t made it known that the aforementioned tattoo bears her and her ex’s initials.

Her fake-boyfriend for the past few minutes —busted.

Aiden gives her an inquisitive ‘What fucking ass tattoo is this idiot talking about?’ look. And when she doesn’t deny it, he leans in and plants a small kiss on Eleanor’s neck, sending a delectable shiver through her. “Remind me to deal with you later,” he whispers in a domineering tone that sounds more like a promise than a threat.

Hmmm…

“Can I steal your girlfriend for a coffee?” Oren continues, unperturbed.

“I’m sure you know Ellie makes her own decisions,” Aiden responds, giving her butt a squeeze. “Come find me when you’re done, baby,” he says before he leaves, taking the last bit of air in her lungs away with him.

What’s just happened?

“I see you’ve moved on,” Oren says after taking a long sip of his cappuccino, comfortably switching back into Hebrew. “You look good.”

And here she is, finding herself sitting across the table from Oren Hason, after swearing she’d never do it again. Then day-dreaming about it for years. Then making the promise all over again.

There are two guys sitting at a table behind them, both wearing ear pieces, seemingly drinking coffee casually—Oren’s bodyguards. Having spent three years with this guy, she’s become a master at spotting them. Looks like his success has reached an international level. At least in his eyes.

“Oh my god! It’s Oren Hason!” Two teenage girls whisper to each other—not very quietly—as they approach. “Could we take a selfie with you?” one asks sweetly, looking like her heart would split in half if he said no.

Apparently not just in his eyes.

“Of course, sweetheart,” Oren answers adorably and lets the excited girls do their thing. He’s always had a soft spot for his fans. It’s one of the things Eleanor liked about him.

“Sorry.” He gives Eleanor a half-apologetic, half-smug smile once he’s back into their conversation. “So tell me about your new—“

“What are you doing here?” Eleanor is not interested in digging into this topic too much, hoping to avoid detailed questions on her brand-new fake relationship with her pretend boyfriend for several legitimate reasons. Yes, she likes to have her rationale organized:

She has zero understanding of relationships, let alone fake ones.

It’s a known fact that uncoordinated stories are key to exposing any kind of hoax. She’s seen these things go down in so many crime shows.

It may have been a while since they broke up, but Oren was known for his ability to read her like an open book, so better to avoid the topic altogether.

Last one, for now, and probably the biggest reason: She’s still trying to wrap her head around the underlying reason that compelled Aiden to pretend he’s her boyfriend. Especially after they’ve worked so hard on pretending they weren’t unbelievably, irresistibly, uncontrollably drawn to each other.

Which throws her into a rabbit hole. This pull between them, the Eleanor-Aiden-magnet, is insane. Unmatched. Impossible. Stupefying. So under this new state of affairs, do they need to pretend they’re faking it in the opposite direction? Or do they just stop pretending altogether?

Gosh, this hurts her brain.

No, scratch that, her brain is on the verge of exploding…

“I’m here on a tour. Staying at this hotel,” he points to the one she’s staying at.

“Oh,” Eleanor croaks, realizing her fake relationship may need to extend further.

I live in Los Angeles now.” Oren’s words snap her back. “I followed the band and somehow made it to California. Fell in love with this place, fell in love with a girl, ended up staying.”

“You? Fell in love? Wow.” She had no idea he was capable. It stings a bit, but not as much as she thought it would.

“Yeah, well, I thought I did, but it didn’t last long.”

Nothing’s new under the sun.

“And now I see you, of all people. Might be fate.” He grins, taking another sip of his coffee.

“Not really, I’m here for a scientific conference.”

“With this guy.”

“Aiden, my boyfriend.” She can’t believe these words are coming out of her mouth. Dr. Eleanor no-serious-relationship-ever-again-science-foreva Benjamin.

“I don’t buy it,” Oren cackles.

Who asked?

She doesn’t say it out loud, but her eyes possibly do.

“The face he made when I mentioned your ass tattoo—he clearly hasn’t seen it.” He makes a sly face.

It’s one of those moments where the person drinking the coffee on the other side of the table spits it right back into their cup. Only in Eleanor’s case, it goes up her nose.

“It’s really none of your business,” she answers after drying her face with a napkin. “Besides, maybe I’m shy and I prefer getting naked in the dark.”

Why is she even going there? Why does she feel like she owes him an explanation? Lack of caffeine can’t be the excuse anymore.

“You? Shy?!” He laughs out loud. “But I’ll let you go back to your guy. I bet he can’t wait to see your tattoo.” Then he gets up and signals his two bodyguards that the party is over. They both get up quickly.

“For what it’s worth, Ellie,” Oren leans in closer, “I regret that moment I broke up with you,” he says earnestly. “I was still a kid, didn’t know better.”

Yeah? Well…

“I don’t,” she says honestly. “Not anymore.”

And it feels liberating, having her heart no longer belong to Oren.

Problem is, this beating little organ of hers now belongs to someone else.