23
AMYGDALA, AGAIN: FEAR
REIKE WON’T ANSWER my calls, because she’s finally traveling to Norway. It might be for the best: I’d just cry at her about neuronal depolarization and electromagnetic induction, which can’t be healthy for me, or edifying for her. I want to visit Guy in the hospital to . . . bring him an Edible Arrangement? Offer my firstborn in penance? Selfflagellate at the foot of his bed? I’m not even sure where they brought him, if he’s still there, and I doubt he wants to
see me. Maybe I should text him. Do you hate me for giving you a seizure through my carelessness and sheer incompetence? Yes, No, Maybe, pls circle.
It’s probably a good thing that I’m alone with my thoughts. Paradoxically, it allows me not to think too much. Things, bad things, are going to happen soon. My connection with WWMD will be disclosed, a community I spent years building will turn against me, and I have no illusion that Trevor will renew my contract. It’s staggering, but if I don’t talk about it I can pretend it’s not happening.
I eat a banana—first thing I’ve had in twenty-four hours —and go to my room. I pull my suitcase from under my bed, dust it off, and start folding my clothes. Jeans. Jeans. A skirt I haven’t gotten a chance to wear yet. My favorite teal top. A rain poncho. Jeans.
The suitcase is almost full when my doorbell rings. I sigh and force myself to go to the door, but I suspect I already know who it is. Turns out, I’m right.
“Hey.” Levi looks tired. And like he’s been running a hand through his hair. And very, very beautiful. My heart knots. “You’re not answering your phone. I was worried.”
“Sorry, I forgot to check it. Is everything okay?”
He gives me a slightly incredulous look that I take to mean No, absolutely nothing is okay and follows me into the living room. Through the balcony doors, my eyes catch the hummingbird feeder. I should take it down. Pack it. But the hummingbirds . . . Maybe I could ask Rocío to hang it for me.
Wouldn’t want the little guy who’s been coming around to find himself without dinner. “—from Guy,” Levi’s saying.
I whirl around. “How is he?”
“Fine—discharged. He asked me to tell you not to freak out, and that he probably deserved it. And to thank you for the trip of a lifetime.” Levi rolls his eyes, but I can see the relief in him.
“Can I— Did he say if I can go see him?”
“He’s resting, but we can go tomorrow. He’d love to see you.” His tone hardens ever so slightly. “Bee, he knows it’s not your fault. A million things could have gone wrong, and none are exclusively your responsibility. Boris rushed the demonstration—”
“Because I let him rush it.” I press my fingers into my eyes. “I told him I could make it. And this mess would have happened anyway, just not publicly. I must have done something wrong. I must have forgotten to account for something—I don’t know. I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about it and I cannot figure out what the fuck I did wrong, which means that someone else, someone who has a clue what they’re doing, should be on this project with you.”
He blinks. “What do you mean?”
“What I just said, I guess.” I shrug. “I hope they send Hank. Josh is a prick.
And you have to help me ensure that Rocío stays on—she deserves this. And could you write her a rec letter for grad school? I don’t know if mine will—”
“No.” He steps forward and reaches out. His hand comes up to the back of my head, spanning from my nape to the curve of my throat. It feels so . .
. normal. Familiar. He is so familiar. “Bee, no one’s going to replace you.
BLINK is as much yours as it’s mine. If it weren’t for you, we’d still be stuck.”
“You don’t understand.” I take a step back. His touch lingers until I’m out of reach—until he has to let go. “I’m out. Like Trevor said.”
“Trevor will change his fucking mind.”
“He won’t. He shouldn’t. Levi, today I endangered someone’s safety. I jeopardized the existence of a project that’s your best friend’s legacy.” I press my fingers to my lips. They’re trembling. All of me is trembling. “How can you even want me to stay?”
“Because I trust you. Because I know you. I know the person you are, the scientist you are, and—” His eyes fall on my bedroom. On my almost-but-not-quite-packed suitcase, open on the floor. He stiffens, pointing at it.
“What’s that?”
I swallow. “I told you. I can’t in all conscience stay on BLINK anymore.”
He stares at me, open-mouthed, disbelieving. “So you’re packing up and leaving?” The question is aggressive, in a way that makes me think that there are right and wrong answers. I struggle to imagine any besides the one.
“What else should I do?” I shrug helplessly. “What’s the point of me being here?”
In the past two months, I’ve seen a lot of Levi Ward. I’ve seen him happy, focused, upset, sad, exultant, angry, horny, honest, disappointed, and various combinations of all these things. The way he’s looking at me right now, though . . . that’s something else. Beyond all of it.
Levi comes closer and opens his mouth, meaning to say something, then immediately turns around and paces away, shaking his head furiously. He takes a deep breath, and another, but when he looks at me again he’s hardly calmer.
“Are you serious?” Icy. His voice, his eyes, the line of his jaw. Pure ice.
“I . . . Levi. My presence here was always contingent upon my role in BLINK.”
“Was. But things have changed.”
“What has changed?”
“I don’t know. Maybe the fact that we’ve been together every second of the past two weeks, that we’ve made love every single night, that I know that you sigh in your sleep, that you floss like a maniac, that you taste like honey
everywhere.”
I feel my cheeks heat. “What does that even mean?” “Are you serious?”
he repeats. “All of that—that was just . . . passing time while you were in Houston? Fucking? Is that what it was?”
