didn’t have anyone to share it with.
“So tell me about your job,” Molly said.
“I’m going to be the lead data analyst for the psychology research department at Woodward College.”
“Also known as resident math genius.”
I laughed a little. “Something like that. They do a lot of cool stuff there. I haven’t seen it yet, but their motion capture lab is state of the art. And I’ll have the opportunity to do some of my own research.”
“That’s so exciting. Watch out, if you start giving your questionnaire to scores of research subjects, you’re going to wind up a groomsman in a lot more weddings.”
I’d already been in at least a dozen weddings—couples who’d used my questionnaire and gone on to get married. “Professional hazard, I guess.”
“At least weddings have cake.”
“Usually. Although the last one I went to didn’t. Can you believe it? They were both eating low carb or something, so they had a cheese and fruit platter instead of cake.”
“Oh my god. That’s a travesty. I hope you started a food fight.”
“I should have.”
She laughed. “I probably would have cried. But I’m also very pregnant and possibly a little bit irrational when it comes to food.”
I heard Martin’s voice in the background. “Very irrational.”
“You’re the one who knocked me up. You get to live with the consequences. Sorry, Corban, my husband likes to play with fire. Anyway, have you called Mom and Dad yet?”
My smile fell. “No, not yet.”
“Well, don’t forget. They’re going to be so excited for you.”
Were they, though? My parents hadn’t approved of my choice to leave my last job, especially without having a new one lined up. I hadn’t told them that I had plenty of money. It wasn’t any of their business, and it wouldn’t have changed their opinion anyway. They didn’t exactly approve of most things I did, so it was easier to just let them think what they wanted.
“Yeah, I’ll call them.”
“Are you nervous?”
“Not really. I’m pretty sure I don’t have to worry about being shunned in the cafeteria at lunch.”
She laughed again. “They better not shun you or I’ll come down there and… well, I’m too pregnant to do much more than yell at people, but I could use lots of obscenities.”
“Thanks, weirdo.”
“You got it, twinkie. Text me on Monday and tell me how it goes. And don’t forget to hit send.”
“I won’t.”
We finished our goodbyes and I set down my phone. I went to the fridge to grab a beer and took it to the couch.
I’d told Molly the truth—I wasn’t nervous about starting my new job on Monday. But what I hadn’t mentioned was the potentially hostile situation I was walking into.
Hazel Kiegen. Ms. Angry Hot Librarian.
She didn’t like me, and the feeling was mutual. I wasn’t sure how this was going to work, but a little rivalry didn’t scare me. Besides, once I had the funding to conduct a full-fledged study of my theory and questionnaire, I’d show her I had cracked the code to falling in love.
For most people, at least.
And hopefully by Monday, my brain signals and dick signals wouldn’t be so mixed. I’d never felt something so intense for a woman before. How could I hate her and still be so attracted to her? It didn’t make any sense.
Maybe my brain was confusing hate for lust.
There was research to support that. Studies on elite athletes showed they typically framed their physical symptoms before a high-pressure athletic event—elevated heart rate, so-called butterflies in the stomach, and so forth—as excitement. Other people framed the same sensations as anxiety or nervousness. The difference wasn’t in the symptoms, it was in the way their brains interpreted the data their body sent.
My brain was obviously misinterpreting the data. I wasn’t attracted to Hazel Kiegen. I disliked her. It was the intensity of that feeling that had caused the confusion.
I was sure my dick would get the message the next time I saw her, and stay out of it.
Hopefully.
I finished my beer and ate some leftovers for dinner. I went to toss the to-go box in the trash, but it was already full.
That was the thing about living alone. There wasn’t anyone else around to make a mess, but there wasn’t anyone else to help clean up either.
I grabbed the trash bag, made sure I had my keys in my pocket—I’d locked myself out a couple of times already and didn’t want to do it again—and took it out into the hall.
“Hey, Corban.”
I shut my door and glanced at my neighbor. Paisley Hayes