Love on the Brain by Ali Hazelwood

            It’s not there anymore. I inspect the box several times, but there’s only cinnamon left. Then I lift my eyes and I see it: blue frosting disappearing behind Levi’s teeth as he takes a bite. A bite of my damn donut. There are dozens of alternatives, but behold: The Wardass chose the one I could eat. What kind of careless, inconsiderate boob steals the single available option from a starving, needy vegan?

            “I am Dr. Boris Covington,” the redhead starts. He looks like an exhausted, disheveled ginger hard-boiled egg. Like he ran here for this meeting, but there are five stacks of paperwork on his desk waiting for him. “I’m in charge of overseeing all research projects here in the Discovery Institute—which makes me your boss.” Everyone laughs, with a few good-natured boos. The engineering team seems to be a rowdy bunch. “You guys already know that—with the notable exception of Dr. Königswasser and Ms. Cortoreal, who are here to make sure we don’t fail at one of our most ambitious projects yet. Levi’s going to be their point of contact, but, everyone, please make them feel welcome.” Everyone claps—except for Levi, who is busy finishing his (my) donut. What an absolute dingus. “Now let’s pretend that I gave an impressive speech and move on to everyone’s favorite activity: icebreakers.” Almost everyone groans, but I think I’m a fan of Boris. He seems much better than my NIH boss. For instance, he’s been speaking for one whole minute and hasn’t said anything overtly offensive. “I want your name, job, and . . . let’s do favorite movie.” More groans. “Hush, children. Levi, you start.”

            Everyone in the room turns to him, but he takes his sweet time swallowing my donut. I stare at his throat, and an odd mix of phantom sensations hits me. His thigh pushing between mine. Being pressed into the wall. The woodsy smell at the base of his—

            Wait. What?

            “Levi Ward, head engineer. And . . .” He licks some sugar off his bottom lip. “The Empire Strikes Back.”

            Oh—are you kidding me? First he steals my donut, and now my favorite movie?

            “Kaylee Jackson,” the blonde picks up. “I’m project manager for BLINK, and Legally Blonde.” She talks a bit like she could be one of Elle Woods’s sorority sisters, which makes me like her instinctively. But Rocío tenses beside me. When I glance at her, her brows are furrowed.

            Weird.

            There are at least thirty people in the room, and the icebreakers get old very soon. I try to pay attention, but Lamar Evans and Mark Costello start fighting over whether Kill Bill: Vol. 2 is better than Vol. 1, and I feel a weird prickle in the center of my forehead.

            When I turn, Levi’s staring hard at me, his eyes full of that something that I seem to awaken in him. I’m a bit resentful about the donut, not to mention that he still hasn’t answered my email, but I remind myself of what Boris just said: he’s my main collaborator. So I play nice and give him a cautious, slow-to-unfurl smile that I hope communicates Sorry about the angular gyrus jab, and I hope we’ll work well together, and Hey, thank you for saving my life!

            He breaks eye contact without smiling back and takes a sip of his coffee. God, I hate him so—

            “Bee.” Rocío elbows me. “It’s your turn.”

            “Oh, um, right. Sorry. Bee Königswasser, head of neuroscience. And . . .” I hesitate. “Empire Strikes Back.” With the corner of my eye I see Levi’s fist clench on the table. Crap. I should have just said Avatar.

            Once the meeting is over, Kaylee comes to speak to Rocío. “Ms. Cortoreal. May I call you Rocío? I need your signature on this document.” She smiles sweetly and holds out a pen, which Rocío doesn’t accept. Instead she freezes, staring at Kaylee with her mouth open for several seconds. I have to elbow her in the ribs to get her to defrost. Interesting.

            “You’re left-handed,” Kaylee says while Rocío signs. “Me too. Lefties power, right?”

            Rocío doesn’t look up. “Left-handed people are more prone to migraines, allergies, sleep deprivation, alcoholism, and on average live three years less than right-handed people.”

            “Oh.” Kaylee’s eyes widen. “I, um, didn’t . . .”

            I’d love to stay and witness more prime Valley Girl and Goth interaction, but Levi’s stepping out of the room. As much as I loathe the idea, we’ll need to talk at some point, so I run after him. When I reach him, I’m pitifully out of breath. “Levi, wait up!”