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The bell rings, and I round the corner to the science wing, sticking my head in doorways as teenagers flood thehalls.
I know it’s bad. Even though it was a tiny omission, I had every chance to admit the connection when we talked at the club. Orsince.
I find his classroom, edge my face into the doorway despite the stream of bodies flowing past me into theroom.
“Wes,” I call, but he doesn’t hear me. He’s already writing something on thewhiteboard.
I try texting him to ask if we can talklater.
His phone buzzes on his desk. Wes glances at it, then looks up at me in the doorway. The coolness in his gaze nearly covers up the judgment andbetrayal.
Nearly.
They gut me even before Wes drops the phone in the desk drawer and shuts the drawer with a finality that hurts myheart.
14
Wes
“Four months into your relationship,how do you feel about the experience of meeting thisway?”
I read the question off the page, and the couple in front of me exchanges a look. The woman smiles, leaning into theguy.
“Great. Some people have an issue with dating online, but I’m fine with it. I never expected to find someone as a result of some DNA prediction. But it’s amazing and kind ofcool.”
Kind of cool. It shouldn’t offend me—hell, it’s nearly an admission of “science is awesome,” which is the one tattoo I’d considergetting.
Today, it offendsme.
I force my attention back to the email message on my phone screen. “Describe your relationship in”—I frown at the font—“threewords.”
The woman looks at her boyfriend. “You first,” she says with anudge.
“Um. Great. Happy. Optimistic?” heventures.
She laughs. “I would say it’s unexpected. And satisfying. And hopeful. And I’m a psych grad, so I get that part of it’s in my head. Like, self-fulfilling prophecy. We’re more likely to work out our problems because we believe we’re compatible. But you could make that case for anything. People from the same town, the sameschool…”
God, they even look alike. I’ve heard about couples looking like each other, or like their pets, but never gave it much thought. They have the same dark hair. And eyesand—
“Everything okay?” she asksme.
I glance toward the door. “I thought my friend—colleague—wascoming.”
The couple smiles at each other, and I go back to the list of questions Rena sent me thismorning.
“Tell me the best thing about yourrelationship.”
“Respect. And honesty,” she says, and henods.
Respect and honesty, Ithink.
Soundsnice.
I set my pen down and my phone. “That’s all I need. Thanks for yourtime.”
They leave hand in hand. They’re happy. Toohappy.
Who’s that happy in a relationship? Maybe they don’t really know eachother.
