Chemical Reaction

At some point, he decides he needs a better view of the gel. He gets up from his stool and moves to stand directly behind mine, leaning over my hunched back as I move onto the second set of pockets.

The heat of his body begins to burn my back, I squirm uncomfortably on my stool until I have to put the pipette down to take off my sweatshirt.

"What is it? What happened?" Lainey asks frantically from above.

"Nothing, I'm just hot." I say plainly, scooting the delicate science further onto the table so I don't accidentally knock it when I remove my sweatshirt. I take off the sweater and lay it on the stool Lainey once occupied, suddenly grateful for my thin workout tank underneath and the decision to wear my hair all the way up.

I had just gotten back into position when I feel something touch my neck. Not soft enough to be hair brushing my neck, but not enough pressure to feel entirely deliberate. I stay completely still as I feel Lainey adjust my twisted necklace. He picks up the chain and turns the jewelry until the clasp is in the back, where he drops it back onto the nape of my neck. If I didn't know better, I would've thought I felt his fingertips linger a little longer on my skin than they should have, but I can't be too sure.

As if nothing happened, I return to the pipette and gel, desperately hoping he doesn't notice the slight shake in my hand that wasn't there before.

--

Chapter 5

I left the lab wordlessly after I finished. After the interaction with Lainey, I could barely make eye contact, snatching up my sweater and scurrying out the door. He said nothing as I walked out, but I could almost feel his eyes on me in that moment.

I finish the rest of my class day painlessly, the feeling of his fingertips on my neck tingling long after they were removed. When I get home, I'm grateful that a hot shower finally convinced my shoulders to relax.

Once clean, I open up my binder at my desk and begin to do my homework for the weekend. As I try to focus on the work in front of me, my mind wanders back to Lainey. The way he spoke in the lab was... out of the ordinary, to say the least.

First, he mocks me on Monday, then he tricks me - like literally April Fools style trick, very immature, in my opinion - then he's revealing himself to me, asking me for my help. I try to avoid thinking about The Necklace Thing, how unmistakably gentle he was.

Maybe it was just bugging him? Like when you see someone's tag out of their shirt and instinctively reach out and tuck it in. A harmless, platonic adjustment. Nothing else.

Then I think about how his fingertips felt on me, raising goosebumps on my bare skin, even more so than when he adjusted my leg in the storage closet. Him moving my necklace would've been harmless and platonic if it weren't for that hesitation at the end of the action. The half a second too long that his hand remained on me, brushing lightly at the skin on the side of my neck.

I reach up and clap my hand over the place he touched, fizzling out the tingling that was beginning to rise there again. This is fucking ridiculous. Not only was he my teacher, but he was also weird, rude. I mean, the man couldn't have been more than 30, if I had to guess, barely beating my 25, but it was still wildly inappropriate.

I could say I wasn't usually like this, but that would be a lie. After growing up in a deeply Christian household, I became a bit of a harlot in undergrad to make up for lost time. I didn't have many boyfriends, but I had something similar from time to time. When I got to my masters, I calmed a bit, focused more on the research-intensive that was consuming my life. Embarrassingly, I think this whole fiasco is just because I'm a bit touch deprived.

In an attempt to relieve some tension, I close my books and retreat to my room, hoping I could distract myself from the unfortunate object of my desires. At least enough to allow me to control myself come Monday.

--

Chapter 6

Monday has come, and I have low expectations for my self control. When I enter the classroom - on time, today - I get myself completely situated before even daring to look at Lainey, but regret it once I do.

He has obviously just trimmed his beard, the neat facial hair chiseling the already sharp angles of his face. His long hair is curlier than usual, probably from the intense humidity in the Atlanta air. What really catches my eye is his body language, however. He's angled toward the corner of the table, his legs outstretched and crossed, propped casually. As I raise my head to look at him he stretches. Leaned back in his chair, he raises his arms behind his head and tenses deeply, his arms barely contained in the sleeves of his white button down shirt.

I'm practically hyperventilating at this point, trying desperately to keep my cool, but I can feel the heat rising to my chest. He gives me a quick look before standing and addressing the class, giving instructions for the day's lab. He passes out the lab packets - I decline considering I already printed my own the night before - and my lab partner and I begin working.

Unfortunately, I realize as we begin that I left my calculator at home, picturing the little machine still sitting on the charger where it's been since last night. I pause for a moment at the table, not entirely sure what to do with myself.

"Forget your calculator?" my lab partner asks quietly. He's a tall blonde, on the skinnier side, and I realize this is the first time we've spoken.

"Yea, actually. It's really not like me." I huff, annoyed with myself for forgetting basically the only thing I needed for this class.

"No worries," he laughs lightly, "we can just share mine. You'll probably use it better than I will, anyways."

I smile at him gratefully as we scoot a bit closer to each other so we can both see the tiny screen. My partner - whose name is Michael, I discover, by reading it on his lab sheet - is actually hopeless at math. Now I get why he was so eager to share the calculator: the kid is not going to pass this lab without me.

Considering we only have one calculator, it takes us much longer than other groups to complete the lab. It's only us and another group left in the class when we finally finish.

"See you Wednesday," Michael says before getting up to turn in his paper, "and thanks for doing the math, there was no chance I was getting those answers right." he leans down next to me to say the last part, obviously trying to keep the words between him and I.

I laugh lightly as I continue to pack my things. I walk to Lainey's table to put my packet on the stack, but instead he reaches forward to take it from my hand. We make eye contact as I pass the paper to him slowly, confused why I'm once again getting singled out.

"Didn't have your own calculator?" the professor asks flatly as he drops his eyes to look at my work.

"I just forgot it at home today, is all." I respond, a bit more defensive than I intended. Why was he asking me this? Why does it matter that Michael and I shared a calculator?

"Am I not allowed to share a calculator with my partner?" I'm on defense again.

"You could've just asked me for a spare, is all." he says, obviously mocking the southern phrase I used.

My face contorts as his eyes return to mine. I can feel a challenge in them, but I'm stuck wondering what the point of this interaction is. Finally, I turn to leave, rolling my eyes as I swivel away from this insufferable man.

"Don't roll your eyes at me again, Bradshaw." he says sternly.

My head whips back to look at him again, shocked that he would scold me in such a way, even if it was rude of me to roll my eyes. His face holds no emotion, he looks almost as shocked at the words that left his mouth as I am. He shakes his head lightly, making me think he actually might not know why he said that.

I choose to drop it and resume my path towards the door, silently hoping that not every class will end with me more confused than I arrived.

--

Chapter 7

All Tuesday, I still couldn't get my mind off Lainey. I think the fact that he infuriates me so much is what draws me to him, in the worst way possible. I've never had a man, nevertheless a teacher, interact with me like this, like he has a vendetta against me. Sure, I've dealt with nasty men at bars and situationships gone wrong, but to honestly have to wonder if my teacher is flirting with me or not? Never. He's a condescending, patronizing twit of a man and he makes my blood boil, so why can't I stop thinking about him?

As I roll to the cool side of my bed, I wonder if he thinks of me this way. Part of me wants him to, but the rest of me doubts it. He said so himself, this was an experiment. He was intentionally doing these things to get a rise out of me, he admitted it.

This being said, I can't pretend I'm not an attractive woman, someone un-flirt-with-able, if you will. My chin length blonde hair complements my green eyes well, and I have managed to maintain the physique I gained from my school tennis career - toned, tall. My physical appearance aside, Lainey made his first impression of me very clear, and it was not particularly positive. Though, part of me, mostly my ego, wanted to believe his odd behavior could be attributed to the tension he also felt.

I decide I'm going to carry out my own experiment, something subtle, of course, to test my theory. I will make the most microscopic, inexplicable move on the man, just to dip a toe in the water. A toe that will be quickly extracted, obviously. This is definitely unethical, and not even in my best interest, but I'm just conceited enough to have to know if I'm actually pining after an uninterested (possibly taken) man, or if what I'm feeling is at all reciprocated.

With that resolution, I feel my brain finally relax enough to fall asleep.

--

Chapter 8

I wake up to my alarm, all the memories of my internal turmoil rushing back to me as I rouse. Do I really want to go through with this? Could I handle the blow of getting rejected by someone I'm not sure I even like? Before I can talk myself out of it, I jump up and start getting ready.

Deciding not to go too overboard, I wear something similar to the sweatshirt and leggings I was wearing the day I caught him off guard at the white board. Feeling confident in my choice of black leggings and a fitted t-shirt, I decide to put on a bit of perfume before running out the door. I usually wouldn't use my expensive perfume I got for Christmas last year for something as mundane as class, but I felt it might be my piece de resistance to catch his attention.

All of my anxious primping caused me to be late again, sliding into class just four minutes after class started. As expected, Lainey was already facing the board to begin his lecture.

"Let's try not to make a habit out of tardiness, Ms. Bradshaw" Lainey says, keeping his eyes trained on the board.

In an attempt to catch him off guard, I squeak out a 'yessir' as I tiptoe to my seat next to Michael. My words seem to have the desired response, as he just barely stutters the next few words of the lecture, having to clear his throat and start the sentence over. Triumphantly, I open my notebook and begin diligently taking notes from what he's already written on the board.

After his lecture, Lainey hands out the second part of the math lab we did the previous class. My classmates groan, not keen on having to do more busy work, but I try to keep my face as solemn as possible, considering my expressions stuck out to him within the first minutes of last Monday.

Everything seeming to work in my favor, I scoot a bit closer to Michael, proposing we work together again. Not that I need his help, I just recall Lainey's apprehension to me borrowing his calculator, so I'll be interested to see if he has anything to say when I work with Michael just for the sake of it.

Michael and I work slowly. I take special care to make sure he fully understands the solution to every problem before moving on. About halfway through the worksheet, I deliberately leave one blank, explaining to Michael that I don't know how to do it and will ask the professor how to do it after class. I take this opportunity to openly ask for Michael's phone number, claiming that I will send the answer to him after I find it out myself.

Everything is falling into place. I have all bases loaded, I just have to make the one move that's going to be my home run. Based on past behavior, everything about me today should've struck a chord with Lainey. I'm just hoping I'm not about to brutally strike out.

After several more minutes of me paying an almost annoying amount of attention to Michael, class is over and the students start to file out. As always, I take my time packing my things together, leaving my worksheet on the table in front of me. I abandon my backpack on the lab stool and make my way to Lainey's table in the front. I feel butterflies spawn in my stomach at the prospect of finally knowing the answer to my question. With one final deep breath, I reach the front table while my lab rat finishes erasing his work off the board before turning to face me.

"What can I do for you, El-la?" The dreaded nickname threatening my cool, but I stick to my guns.

"Yes, I just had a question about number eight. How do we find the pH without the pK being given?" With my paper placed facing him in the middle of the table, I lean forward on my one hand to point to the question I'm referring. I let my pointing hand drop next to the paper, just barely leaned more forward than if I was just resting on my back hand.

He rereads the question and begins to explain his answer, lightly scribbling his numbers next to the question on my paper with a pencil. I stay leaned forward, listening intently as he explains the problem I already know the answer to. As he finishes his explanation, I lazily scan over what he has written before decided to take my chance. Instead of turning the paper my way, I slide around the side of the table to stand directly to his left. Obviously too close, but not to the point that it would be super weird to see considering we were looking at the same paper. I feel him stiffen next to me, but try to remain calm myself. As he takes a deep breath, I remember the perfume I put on this morning and how I'm now close enough for him to smell it - to smell me. A wave of insecurity washes over me as I think about all the things that could be going through his head right now. In an attempt to stay on track, I make my second move.

I gently grab the end of the pencil he's holding, having packed mine up, making sure to let one finger feather a touch onto one of his.

"May I?" I say quietly, feeling his eyes on the side of my face as I look at the pencil. The whole exchange only lasts a couple of seconds before he releases the utensil. I lean down over the paper, resting my elbow on the table as I mimic what he has written before standing back up straight, letting my shoulder brush his as I do so.

"Is that how you want it?" I ask innocently, turning to look at him as I gauge his reaction to my loaded comment. This is the first time I have really looked at him since he first started explaining the problem, and I'm not sure what I expected, but it wasn't this. He only has is left hand resting on the table now, his chest turned towards me as he searches my face. I swear he's onto me, but I will myself to remain blasé.

I watch in my peripheral as his chest rises and falls under his button down shirt, the top two buttons undone to reveal that same area of skin flaming red, same as it did on the second day of class. I hold his gaze, trying to think of something to break the moment while keeping the upper hand.

I remember the pencil of his I'm holding and quickly move to hold it up between us. Without looking at it, he reaches up and covers my hand with his, those brown eyes on the verge of pouring into mine. He slides the pencil out of my hand and leans down one more time, changing on of my subtraction signs to an addition. In my mind, I hone in on the mistake, cursing his distraction for causing me to make a mistake in front of him.

"Now, you're perfect." He says nonchalantly as he stands back up. I try not to react to his comment, or the fact that he used my own tactics against me. Considering the moment gone, I pick up my paper and retreat to my table to grab my stuff and get the fuck out of there. I can't help but think that I've made things almost awkward, now. Not only do I have more questions now than I did previously, I fear I may have moved us in a direction that bordered flirting. Obviously I was flirting, but we could usually hide our small moments in our outward feelings of disdain. This time, though, there was no buffer, just me, the Lainey, and our innuendos.

The worst part is that I got no read on his feelings because I was so consumed by the moment - his body's reaction to mine, his eyes, his parting comment. I recall the moments I feared my cover was blown, that he caught on to what I was doing. Part of me hoped he thought he was flattering himself, similar to how I have been feeling, but something about this man told me he scarcely denied his ego satisfaction.

Feeling even more conflicted, I drown myself in the rest of my classes and schoolwork before returning home. I try to relax with a glass of wine and some shitty, but nothing can seem to distract my mind from the situation I've put myself in. How will I face him now? Do I continue with what I started? That would involve leaving the toe dipped, however, and I must retract that fucking toe! How would I be able to face him in a week, a month, ever again if something did happen and it went south?

I must be kidding myself. He reacted to me being near him because it was weird, because I was totally invading his space and being presumptuous. He probably doesn't care, or will shut it down himself by the end of next class. I'll just keep my distance and allow him to keep his. Considering the metaphorical water tested, I go to sleep, mentally bracing myself for our next encounter.

--

Chapter 9

The rest of the week goes by without a hitch. I go to Friday lab, I listen to lecture, I leave the class with the rest of the crowd. I have my first peaceful weekend since the beginning of this whole debacle and get ready for class on Monday anxiety-free. We had to turn in our first draft of the experiment we want to perform on Friday, so I'm actually looking forward to lab and to maybe getting some feedback on my ideas. Just because Lainey is an obnoxious fuck doesn't mean he's stupid.

My issue currently is that we're meant to find a professor to assist us with the research portion of our assignment, and I have yet to find anyone interested in my rather obscure topic. Why no one wants to help me study a random Asian lichen is beyond me.

Class ends and I'm on my way out with the rest of the students when I hear Lainey call my name.

"Could you wait just a second? I wanted to talk to you quickly. Let me just answer their questions first." He gestures to the students waiting on him with his head.

I nod and make my way back to his table at the front. I stand at the short end and watch as he helps my classmates with their research questions. I take this time to study how he speaks to other students. He is cordial with all of them, men and women alike, revealing nothing to them of the attitude he has used with me. I feel a burn in my lower stomach as I realize he singles me out, pays me extra attention, negative or not. Many of the people that come up have to introduce themselves to Lainey, while he was surveying my reactions to him from the first time we made eye contact.

One by one the others leave until it is just me and him. He turns the back of his chair toward me before sitting backwards in it, crossing his arms across the top. As much as I say about him, he looks unreal sitting in front of me like this. His usual button down shirt with rolled sleeves is leaving nothing about his arms up to the imagination. His glasses have slid down on his prominent nose, he looks up at me over their rim. Those brown eyes... I blink several times to refocus as he begins to speak to me.