Love on the Brain by Ali Hazelwood

            It’s difficult to breathe.

            “Well,” Kaylee says, jumping up, “Rocío and I gotta go.”

            Rocío frowns. “Where?”

            “Ah, to bed.”

            “But it’s three in the afterno—” Kaylee drags her up by the wrist, but when they’re at the door Rocío frees herself and comes to stand in front of Levi.

            “I must thank you. For saving Bee’s life,” she says solemnly. “To me, she is like a mother. The mother I never had.”

            “You have an amazing mother back in Baltimore,” I point out, “and I’m only five years older than you.” I am ignored.

            “I want to give you a token. To acknowledge your contributions.”

            “There’s no need,” Levi says, just as solemnly.

            Rocío rummages in her jeans pocket and offers him an unwrapped, slightly squished red gumball.

            “Thank you. This is . . .” He looks at the gum. “A thing that I now have.”

            Rocío nods somberly, and then Levi and I are alone. Well. With the gumball.

            “Did you want it?” he asks me.

            “I could never. It’s your reward for saving my life.”

            “Pretty sure you saved your own life.”

            “It was a team effort.” There is a small lull, a not-exactly-unpleasant silence. I find that I can’t quite meet Levi’s gaze, so I glance around. “Are the brownies for me?”

            “I wasn’t sure what the food options were.” He wets his lips. “The bag’s for you, too.”

            “Oh.” I peek. Inside there’s something wrapped in newspaper. I put it in my lap and start unrolling it. “It’s not Guy’s heart that you cut out of his chest, is it?”

            He shakes his head. “I already fed that to Schrödinger.”

            “I—” I pause mid-action. “I’m so sorry. I cannot imagine how hard it must be. He’s one of your closest friends, and the fact that he was so jealous of you and Peter is . . .”

            “Yeah, I . . . I’ll go talk to him. When it’s been a while and I want to punch him less. But for now . . .” He shrugs. “You should open that.”

            I resume. It’s about five layers before I can make out what it is.

            “A mug?” I turn it around and break into a grin. “Oh my God, Yoda Best Neuroscientist! You had it made!”

            “Look inside, too.”

            I do. “A bobblehead? Is this Marie Curie?” I lift it up, grinning. “She’s standing in front of her lab bench! And she’s wearing— This was her wedding gown, did you know that?”

            “I didn’t.” He hesitates before adding: “I won this in middle school. Second place at the science fair. The beakers she’s holding glow in the dark.”

            My smile vanishes slowly. I’m too busy staring at Marie’s pretty face to realize that I’ve heard that science fair story once before. No. No, I didn’t hear it. I read it. On my . . .

            My arms fall into my lap. “You know. You know about . . .”

            He nods. “I reviewed the security footage. I didn’t notice at first, but after you wrote that text—I was jogging, by the way, so maybe next time give me fifteen minutes or so before jumping headfirst into danger alone—after your text I looked at the footage more closely. And saw your computer.”

            I stare at him. I’m wholly unprepared for this conversation. “I . . .”

            “Did you know all along?”

            “No.” I shake my hand vehemently. “No, I— The picture. Schrödinger, was— You tweeted it. And then I . . . I had no idea. Before yesterday.”