“In the arithmetic of love, one plus one equals everything, and two minus one equals nothing.” ~ Mignon McLaughlin
Hazel had avoided me all day. And I didn’t want to be grumpy about it, but I was.
We hadn’t talked once over the weekend, and now that we were back at work, it felt like we were enemies all over again.
Not that we were picking at each other. I hadn’t turned her nameplate around, and she hadn’t left any memos on my desk. Truthfully, that would have been preferable to the awkward silence hanging between us. To the way she avoided my eyes and walked by my office quickly, like she didn’t want to see me. The way she’d abruptly left the lab without a word when I’d come in this morning.
I wasn’t the one who’d come up with a stack of research articles after she’d shared something personal. When I’d found out she’d been married before, had I immediately gone home and looked up everything I could find on getting over a divorce? Had I tried to science my way into her head so I could fix her? No.
So if me being mad about that put a wedge between us, fine.
I hunkered down in my chair and turned my attention back to my grant application. I had feedback from Elliott, showing me exactly how much work I needed to do to make it stronger. It was a lot, but this was why I was here.
My phone dinged and for a split second, I hoped it was Hazel. Maybe she wanted to talk so she could apologize. Or maybe she wanted to pick a fight with me. I wasn’t even sure if I cared which one it was.
But it wasn’t Hazel. It was someone who’d found one of her fake fliers with my number on it—were there actually more of those out there?—asking about my free tutoring services.
Awesome. Maybe I’d put up fliers around campus advertising Hazel’s services. Do you have unresolved issues from your past? Have you ever wanted someone to poke at your insecurities like you’re a lab rat? Call Hazel Kiegen.
Looking at my phone, however, reminded me of the time. I was due in the lab in a few minutes.
With Hazel.
Great.
I got up and my stomach growled. Loudly. I’d forgotten my lunch at home today. Because of fucking course I had. I’d obviously needed something else to put me in a shitty mood and my subconscious had obliged. I didn’t have time to run out and get something. I’d just have to suck it up and eat later.
Hazel was already in the observation room when I got there. Naturally. She was nothing if not punctual and organized. Traits I admired, but I didn’t want to think about all the things I liked about her. Not now.
The fact that she didn’t bother looking up at me when I came in sent another spike of irritation running through me. I decided to ignore her right back and got to work calibrating the motion capture equipment.
Two hours later, we were finished running tests, still hadn’t spoken to each other outside of what was necessary to oversee the study, and I was hungry enough to eat that weird meatless thing my sister had tried to make when she’d been going through her vegetarian phase.
Hazel stood and tapped her papers into a neat stack. She opened her mouth and started to say something—it might have been I think we should talk—but in that moment, reasonable Corban Nash left the building.
I basically snapped.
“Do any more interesting research lately?”
She clutched her stack of papers to her chest. “Not really. Why?”
“Are you sure? I figured you must have studied up on conflict avoidance. Maybe passive aggression. Giving friends the silent treatment.”
“I’m not giving you the silent treatment.”
“Could have fooled me.”
“I’m talking to you right now.”
“Only because you have to.”
“On the contrary, I think we both have things that need to be said.”
“Okay, good.” I crossed my arms, waiting for her to apologize for trying to make me her latest study subject. And then, yeah, I probably needed to apologize for walking out the way I had. But she could go first.
She adjusted her glasses. It was odd that she wasn’t looking me in the eye. She didn’t usually shy away from eye contact. It was also odd that I knew that about her. But I tended to notice things about Hazel that I didn’t notice in anyone else.
“Our relationship, such as it is, hasn’t followed what would be considered a typical progression. Therefore, it would be unfair of me to place unreasonable expectations on said relationship. Such as it is.”
“Okay…” I had no idea where she was going with this.
“But I have also come to realize that my expectations were different than yours. And also different from what I may have communicated to you, in both verbal and nonverbal ways.”
“Expectations?”
“Yes. The first time our relationship progressed into the physical, we agreed it had been a mistake. It’s become clear to me that we were right, and it should have remained what it was. A single encounter that shouldn’t have been repeated.”
I stared at her. What was she talking about? “You’re saying we shouldn’t have slept together again?”
“Yes.”
My heart was beating too fast and my chest felt heavy. She regretted it. That was what she was telling me. She regretted sleeping with me. Whatever it was we’d had together, she didn’t want to fix it. She wished it hadn’t happened. We were a mistake.
That tiny spark of hope I’d stupidly been nursing—maybe she really had been trying to help with all that research stuff… maybe it meant she cared—snuffed out in an instant. It left me feeling empty, a different kind of hunger clawing at my hollow insides.
I was alone. I was always going to be alone. And I hated it.
My teeth clenched and I reached for the only thing I could find to get me through this moment. Anger.
Stepping back into my role as Hazel’s rival was like wrapping myself in an old sweater. Sure, it was ugly and it didn’t fit me very well anymore. But it was familiar and easy to wear.
I knew how to navigate a world where we were enemies.
“You know what, you’re right. It was a mistake. It was a mistake the first time, and every time after that. And it was a mistake for me to trust you with anything personal. I should have known you’d turn it into a reason for extracurricular scientific analysis.”
Her eyebrows drew together. “I was only trying to help.”
“I don’t need your help. And I don’t need you to be my fuck buddy.”
“I should say you don’t.”
“Friends with benefits is bullshit anyway,” I muttered.
She sucked in a breath and her eyes glistened with… were those tears? Why did she look like she was about to cry?
“That’s precisely the conclusion I’ve come to.” She tightened her arms around her stack of papers and her spine straightened. “Friends with benefits isn’t a viable option. And right now I’m questioning whether we can be friends at all.”
Her words pierced through me, sharp and painful. She didn’t want to be friends. She didn’t want me in her life. For a second, the hurt cut through my anger. “What? Why?”
“Because I can’t do that to myself, Corban. Being friends means staying on the periphery and putting myself in the position of having to watch you be happy with someone else. Even if that isn’t now, it’ll happen someday.”