Love on the Brain by Ali Hazelwood

            “Bee?”

            I open my eyes. Barely. They’re bleary, sticky with sleep.

            “Bee?”

            Crap. I inadvertently answered a call from an unknown number. “Shisshishee,” I slur. Then I spit out my retainer. “Sorry, this is she.”

            “I need you to come in right now.”

            I instantly recognize the baritone. “Levi?” I blink at my alarm. It’s 6:43 a.m. I can’t keep my lids up. “What? Come where?”

            “Can you be in Boris’s office by seven?”

            That makes me sit up in bed. Or as close as I can manage at this hour. “What are you talking about?”

            “Do you want to stay and work on BLINK?” His voice is firm. Decisive. I can hear background noise. He must be outside, walking somewhere.

            “What?”

            “Have you told NIH about what NASA is doing yet?”

            “Not yet, but—”

            “Then do you want to stay and work on BLINK?”

            I press my palm into my eye. This is a nightmare, right? “I thought we agreed that’s not an option.”

            “It might be now. I have . . . something.” A pause. “A bit of a gamble, though.”

            “What is it?”

            “Something that’ll get Boris to support us.” He cuts off for a second. “—can’t explain on the phone.”

            It sounds sketchy. Like he’s trying to lure me to a secondary location to traffic me to people who’ll harvest my femurs to make handles for badminton racquets.

            “Can’t we just meet later?”

            “No. Boris is having a call with the NASA director in one hour, we need to catch him before then.”

            I run a hand over my face. I’m way too pooped for this. “Levi, this sounds very weird and I just woke up. If you’re trying to get me alone to assassinate me, could we just go ahead, pretend you did it, and go our separate ways—”

            “Listen. What you said yesterday . . .” He must have stepped inside, because the background noise is gone. His voice is rich and deep in my ear. I think I can actually hear him swallow. “There is no other neuroscientist I’d want to do this project with. Not a single one.”

            It’s a blow to the sternum. The words knock the air out of my lungs, and a weird, nonsensical, untimely thought crosses my mind: it’s not that surprising that this broody, reserved man snagged himself a beautiful bride. Not if he’s capable of saying things like this.

            At least I’m awake now. “What’s happening?”

            “Bee, do you want to stay in Houston and work on BLINK?” he asks again, but this time after a pause he adds, “With me?”

            That’s when I know that I’m a lunatic. Insane. An utterly insane lunatic. Because my alarm says six forty-five a.m., and a shiver runs down my spine—or where my spine would be if I had one. I screw my eyes shut, and the word that comes out of my mouth is:

            “Yeah.”



* * *



            • • •

            I STUMBLE OUT of the elevator two minutes past seven, energized by a night of restful sleep and dressed for success.

            Just kidding. I’m wearing leggings and a flannel shirt, I forgot to put on a bra, and having to choose between brushing my teeth and washing my face I went for the former, which means that when Levi spots me I’m frantically trying to scrape sleep boogers from my eyes. I feel jittery and drowsy—the worst possible combination. Levi is waiting by Boris’s office, put together like it’s not the middle of the night, and knocks on the door the moment he sees me. I break into a light jog, and by the time I get there I’m also sweaty and out of breath.

            My life is so lovely. As lovely as a spinal tap.

            “What is going on?”