“Is it? Seems pretty simple.”

He shakes his head, carefully considers what to say, and then somehow lands on the most ridiculous five words I’ve ever heard. “Give me a few days.”

“A few days? Levi, Rocío and I moved here to work. We left our friends, families, partners in Maryland, and now we’re twiddling our thumbs—”

“Then go home for a few days.” His tone is harsh. “Visit your partner, come back later—”

“That’s not the damn point!” I aggressively run a hand through my bangs.

Reike said that I should confront him calmly, but that horse is out of the stable and galloping around the moors. I’m pretty sure Levi’s neighbors can hear me raise my voice, and I’m fully okay with it. “I have the head of NIH

wanting progress reports from me, and my boss threatening to send in someone else if I don’t get him results soon. I need my equipment. I’m not asking you to do this for me—do it for the project!” I must have moved closer, or maybe he to me, because all of a sudden I can smell him. Pine and soap and clean male skin. “Do you even care about BLINK?”

His eyes blaze. “I care. Do not ever imply otherwise,” he grits out, leaning forward. I’ve never hated someone this intensely. I never will again. I believe it as deeply as I do cell theory.

“You sure don’t act like you do.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“And you”—I step closer, stabbing my finger into his chest—“don’t know how to run a project.”

“I am asking you to trust me.”

“Trust you?” I laugh in his face. “Why the hell should I trust you?” I stab my finger at him again, and this time he closes his palm around it to stop me.

Something odd happens. His grip slides down to my palm, and for a moment he’s almost holding my hand in his. It makes my skin tingle and my breath catch—his, too. It must be his cue to realize that he’s touching me—

me, the most abhorrent creature of the seven seas. He lets go immediately, as if burned.

“I am doing what I can,” he begins.

“Which is nothing.”

“—with the resources I have—”

“Oh, come on.”

“—and there are things you don’t know—”

“Then tell me! Explain!”

The ensuing silence clinches it for me. The way his jaw tightens, the fact that he straightens and turns abruptly, pacing three steps away as though he is finished with this.

With me. You never even started, asshole.

“Right. Well.” I shrug. “I’m going to your superior, Levi.”

He gives me a shocked look. “What?”

Oh, now he is worried. How the worm has turned. How the cookie crumbles. “I need to get BLINK started. You’re leaving me no choice but to go over your head.”

“Over my head?” He briefly closes his eyes. “There is no such thing.”

“I— Do you—” I sputter. God, this man’s ego must have its own gravitational field. He’s a human pit stuffed full of dark matter and hubris.

“Do you even hear yourself?”

“Don’t do it, Bee.”

“Why shouldn’t I? Are you going to call StimCase and get me my equipment? Are you going to get us an office that isn’t away from everyone?

Are you going to start inviting us to essential meetings?”

“It’s not that simple—”

What an asswipe. “But it is. It’s pretty damn simple, and if you don’t commit to fixing this, you don’t get to tell me not to go to your superior.”

“You don’t want to do that.”

Is he threatening me? “See, I thought so, too. But now I’m pretty sure I do. Watch me.”

I spin on my heels and head for the door, ready to walk straight to Boris’s office, but when my hand is on the knob something occurs to me and I turn around.

“And one more thing,” I snarl into his stony face. “Vegan donuts are for vegans, you absolute walnut.”

• • •

LEVI CAN’T BE too distressed by our conversation, because he doesn’t even attempt to come after me. I’m pumped full of rage and want to march to Boris, but I run into Rocío down the hallway. She’s dragging her feet, staring vacantly at the floor like an inmate on death row. Even more than usual.

I stop. As impatient as I am to get my equipment and ruin a career, I think I love Rocío more than I hate Levi. Though it’s a close call.

“How did the GRE go?” The Graduate Record

Examination is like the SATs: a stupid standardized test on which students need to get an absurdly high score to be accepted into grad school—even though it tests nothing that has to do with academic success. I remember agonizing over my scores in my last year of college, terrified that they wouldn’t be high enough to get me into the same programs as Tim. As it turned out, mine were higher than his, and I ended up with several more acceptances than he had. In hindsight, I should have gone to UCLA and left him behind. It would have saved me a lot of heartache and minimized my Wardass exposure.

“Bee.” Rocío shakes her head gloomily. “Which way is the ocean?”

I point to my left. She immediately begins shuffling her feet in that direction.

“Ro, you first have to get out of the building and . . . what are you doing?”

“I shall walk into the sea. Farewell.”

“Wait.” I circle around her. “How did it go?”

She shakes her head again. Her eyes are red-rimmed.

“Low.”