Below Zero (The STEMinist Novellas #3) by Ali Hazelwood

            It’s scary, how attractive I find him. The depth of this crush of mine. I liked him since the very start, but my feelings for him have been growing steadily, then exponentially, and . . . what do I even do with them? It’s like being handed an instrument I never learned how to play. Being asked to step onstage at a concert hall utterly unprepared.

            I take a deep breath.

            “Actually, they fixed the elevator. And this new cast is easy to walk on. So, no need. But you . . .” You can do this, Hannah. Come on. You just survived polar bears thanks to this guy. You can say the words. “You could come up anyway.”

            A long silence follows, in which I feel my heartbeat in every inch of my body. It draws out till it gets unbearable, and when I cannot help but glance up, I find Ian looking at me with an expression that can be described only as . . . sorry. Like he knows very well that he’s going to have to let me down.

            Shit.

            “Hannah,” he says, apologetic. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

            “Right.” I swallow and nod. Push the weight in my chest to the side for an unspecified later. God, that later is going to be bad. “Okay.”

            He nods, too, relieved at my understanding. My heart breaks a little. “But if you need anything, anything at all—”

            “—you’ll be there. Right.” I smile, and . . . maybe I’m not 100 percent yet, because I’m starting to feel teary all over again. “Thank you, Ian. For everything. Absolutely everything. I still cannot believe you came for me.”

            He cocks his head. “Why?”

            “I don’t know. I just . . .” I could bullshit an answer for him. But it seems unfair. He’s earned more from me. “I just can’t believe that anyone would do that for me.”

            “Right.” He sighs and bites into his lower lip. “Hannah, if that changes. If you ever find yourself able to believe that someone could care about you that much. And if you wanted to actually . . . have dinner with that someone.” He lets out a laugh. “Well . . . Please, consider me. You know where to find me.”

            “Oh. Oh, I . . .” I feel heat creep up my face. Am I blushing? I didn’t even know my body was capable of it. “I actually wasn’t asking you to come up just for . . . I mean, maybe that, too, but mostly . . .” I screw my eyes shut. “I expressed myself poorly. I was inviting you up because I would love to have dinner. With you,” I blurt out.

            When I find the guts to open my eyes, Ian’s expression is stunned.

            “Are you . . .” I think he forgot how to breathe. He clears his throat, coughs once, swallows, coughs again. “Are you serious?”

            “Yes. I mean,” I hurry to add, “I still think you won’t like it. I’m just . . . really not that kind of person.”

            “What kind of person?”

            “The kind that people enjoy being with for anything that isn’t . . . well, sex. Or sex related. Or directly leading up to sex.”

            “Hannah.” He gives me a skeptical look. “You have two friends who dropped everything to be with you. And I assume sex wasn’t involved.”

            “It wasn’t. And I—I would drop everything for them, but they’re different. They’re my people, and—” Shit, I really am about to tear up. What the hell, you almost die once and your mental stability gets all fucked up? “There are plenty of people who would disagree. Like my family. And you . . . You’ll probably end up not liking me.”

            He smiles. “Seems improbable, since I already like you.”

            “Then you’ll stop. You—” I run a hand through my hair, wishing he understood. “You’ll change your mind.”

            He looks at me like I’m just a bit crazy. “In the span of one dinner?”

            “Yes. You’ll think I’m a waste of your time. Boring.”

            He’s starting to just look . . . amused. Like I’m ridiculous. Which . . . I don’t know. Maybe I am. “If that happens, I’ll just put you to work. Have you debug some of my code.”