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Adam Carlsen was a relatively calm person.
Sure, he could be intense. Yeah, he could improve his bedside manner when giving feedback to students. Of course, he didn’t need to be so harsh when reviewing papers.
He would argue, however, that that’s what made good scientists. Rigorous, intense feedback from peers. And if students weren’t prepared for that feedback, then they weren’t ready to be scientists.
That wasn’t to say he was cruel. He had never so much as raised his voice at a graduate student, let alone thrown a computer at any of them. Not even when Vivian Lu, who now held a doctorate and was teaching at Harvard, had spilled a tube of acid onto him in his second year as a faculty member. He didn’t even tell her ‘I told you so’, when she admitted that she had slipped due to the flip flops she was wearing.
He was considering it, however, when he went into the cupboard of his lab, only to discover that not one, not two, but all three boxes of latex-free gloves-ordered from a company in Canada that specialized in environmentally friendly plastic alternatives-were empty and still sitting on the shelf.
He wasn’t just irritated. He was pissed. He was willing to send an e-mail right now, firing all of the students in his lab in an epic blaze of glory that would definitely end with him sitting in a meeting with human resources.
The problem wasn’t that students had used the gloves; he wasn’t the only person in academia that was cursed with a latex allergy. What was bothersome was that they left three goddamn empty boxes in his cabinet. He hadn’t ordered more, thinking he was fully stocked.
Adam eyed the liquid he’d pulled from freezer an hour earlier. He had spent the past hour testing the temperature every fifteen minutes until it was perfect to replicate the methodology of the paper he had been reading. After an hour of waiting, it was perfectly in spec. By the time he’d hunt around the department and find gloves, it would be too warm.
What a waste.
This inconvenience might be worth the meeting with HR.
There was a popping noise as he rolled his shoulders, and Adam flinched. He checked his watch, it was ten-fourty five at night. He’d been editing papers for nearly four hours and had missed dinner.
And judging by the bright red slash he’d drawn through the last page he’d read, as well as the large amount of question marks that were slashed across the page, that might have made him a little cranky. Hangry, as Holden would say.
September was, in his opinion at least, the most crucial month for any PhD student. If everything they submitted was perfect before the student started experimentation, they could catch most methodological and testing errors before they began. Adam valued preparedness, and if his students were willing to submit their papers a week before any given deadline, he always promised that he would ensure that he double-checked every test that listed. Even if that left him in the lab at almost midnight, starving and sore.
He couldn’t skip the test, he’d be violating his own code of ethics. Even if the student, Cassandra, didn’t realize it, he couldn’t disadvantage a student by not doing everything in his power to support his research.
Holden always said he had a bleeding heart.
He could run the test wearing the normal, university-supplied gloves. He’d only have to deal with the itching and irritating that would flare up for the next week.
His latex allergy wasn’t deadly. For the first five years of his life, his parents hardly noticed the red bumps that appeared on his arms during his first few birthday parties. When they finally noticed, they chalked it up to a physical manifestation of his excitement about his birthday.
He didn’t even realize that he was allergic to latex until he was nineteen, when he had had sex for the first time. When the allergy showed it’s true ugly and hive-ridden face. It was so bad that he’d called Holden from a payphone down the street from the girl’s house, sobbing, asking for a ride to the nearest hospital.
Thankfully, it was the only embarrassing story Holden had never shared with any of their inner circle.
Still, Holden gave him a knowing smirk, a snide comment about how Adam should know better, every time he saw the telltale marks on his hands. Adam was getting more nervous that at some point Holden would spill and tell someone else his most embarrassing secret.
So no, he wasn’t about to wear latex gloves.
Holden, however, might be the solution to his problem. He’d started asking Adam to order gloves for his own lab a couple of years ago. He’d claimed he wanted to ensure his students had options if necessary. They both knew it they were for Adam, but in the silent bro-code oath of pretending to not give a shit, Holden lied.
Adam appreciated the gesture.
The only other person who he was confident would have latex-free gloves, and wouldn’t mind if he raided their office, was Aysegul. Despite her age, she’d managed to stay progressive enough that the supplies in her office alone could accommodate any dietary, religious, or medical accommodation without notice.
He appreciated how many of his colleagues went out of their way, spending their own income, to ensure all students had equal opportunities. Adam’s own advisor had refused to assist when he’d learned of Adam’s allergy, and he spent most of his pitiful income as a graduate student on hand-cream and gloves from a local pharmacy.
Disgusting, how so many students were forced to sacrifice their own health to keep their grades afloat.
He thought of Olive, who he’d met in his bathroom almost three years ago. The shock that he’d felt when he’d heard that this young woman was wearing expired contacts, which was apparently not an unusual practice for her, was palpable. He’d assumed it was out of pure disregard for her own safety. However, the realization that it was because of the cost of a prescription, was horrific.
Even in the worst months of his studies, when he and Tom had been living off scraps, his friends had pulled together their meager assets so none of them were damaging their own organs. His mother, whose phone calls Adam had ignored for years, had sent him a cheque a week after Holden let it slip they’d been eating nothing but Ramen and Apple slices. She’d claimed that he’d sold some of his childhood belongings.
Didn’t Olive have someone looking out for her?
Aside from polite nods in the hallway, they’d never had a conversation since that day in the bathroom. Still, he admired her. He saw her name on the volunteer list at almost every faculty event. Holden had talked about her at length when he reviewed her project, impressed by her perfectionism and research capabilities. He’d overheard her conversations with her peers while passing in the hallways, and it was apparent that they adored her. And she was fucking gorgeous.
Adam wasn’t obsessed with her, as much as Holden liked to tease him about his “academic muse.” He’d just kept an eye on her career. One might call it a professional interest. He’d snuck in to see a few, admittedly, most of her presentations.
He wanted to know what research she couldn’t “trust anyone else to do”.
Not that it mattered, because she was a student. Quite possibly the most beautiful, intelligent, and passionate woman he’d ever met, but a student. And he was a man at least ten years her senior, who hadn’t spoken two words to her since the conversation in the bathroom that she either wanted to pretend didn’t happen or had forgotten. Most likely the latter, based on the blank smile she gave him whenever he had the courage to make eye contact with her.
And he shouldn’t be thinking about a student when he has a test to conduct that is rapidly falling out of spec.
His knees popped as he stood from the bench, another sign of how much older he was than his students. Grabbing his card swipe from the counter, he made a plan. If he was quick, he could run to Ayesgul’s lab and grab the gloves, run the test, and eat something from the vending machine. If he was up to it, he could even sneak into the weight room before leaving.
He refused to consciously entertain the thought that Olive might be in the lab, or that that had any influence on why he would go to Ayesgul’s, even if Holden’s was closer.
He sent a quick text to Holden, asking if he knew how late the gym was open in September. He’d only ever been during the rush of exams when everything was open twenty-four seven, to encourage students to take care of their mental health as well as their studies.
Was encouraging students to stay on campus at all hours of the night really a celebration of mental health? Adam doubted it, but he wasn’t a leading example or expert on the subject.
He was almost to the lab when his phone dinged, Holden had replied.
He checked, smiling at his friend’s message. The gym was open, but shouldn’t Adam give someone else a chance for hottest, brooding professor?
Adam was sliding the phone into his pocket when he turned the corner. He only caught a glimpse of the brown bun facing away from him before he identified them as Olive.
She couldn’t have heard him coming, because when she turned she stepped directly into his path. Without looking up, she stopped less than a step away from him. If he hadn’t slowed down when he noticed her, he might have run her down.
She really should be watching where’s she going. Irritation began to bloom in him, but it barely materialized as a clear thought, before Olive wiped his world off of its axis.
“CanIpleasekissyou?”
What?
He made a gargled noise, deep in the back of his throat, as he parsed the words into something meaningful. Or, maybe he knew immediately what she had said, but it took him a moment to realize his dreams were becoming a reality.
Regardless, by the time the realization came to him, her lips were crashing into his with enough force he nearly stumbled backwards. A gargled grunt emerged from deep in the back of his throat, a loud, unsexy, and embarrassing noise. For nearly three seconds, his eyes were wide open, cross-eyed, looking at the blurred constellation of freckles on her nose.
She was kissing him.
And he wasn’t kissing her back.
There was a sharp intake of breath as the realization hit him. He wasn’t a very experienced kisser, or an experienced anything-er. Sure, he’d had girlfriends, but he’d never been affectionate physically. But he wasn’t going to get this opportunity again.
He pushed the flurry of concerns, that his breath might be stale, or that she might think he kissed weird, out of his mind. If he was going to kiss her, he would try his best to show how much he could be worthy of it.
He would try to make it good.
He ducked his head lower, angling so she didn’t have to stand on her tip-toes. He relaxed, deepening the kiss. Her lips were soft, tasting like a mixture of coffee, chocolate, and spearmint. It was a combination that should have been disgusting, but on Olive, it was simply delectable.
He would guess that she herself, was simply delectable.
He let her set the lead. When she leaned against his chest, he wrapped his arms around her. His hands started on her hips, but he slid them to a respectable position on the soft skin a few inches beneath her breasts. Damn, she was so small. He could feel the soft bumps of her ribs under her shirt. Was she eating enough? Was she being taken care of?
She wrapped a fist in his hair, and all thoughts melted away, replaced by a pleasant warmth. Her hand cupped his face, and he leaned into it, wanting to melt into her right then and there. There was a buzzing, electric current, flowing through his body. It wasn’t quite arousal, but something sweeter.
How long had it been since someone had touched him with any warmth? Had it always felt this pleasant, and he’d never realized it?
And just as soon as it started, just as soon as he started to embrace the comfort of Olive in his arms, it was over. Olive pulled away, settling down on flat feet. He chased her for half a heartbeat, following her lips with his own, before remembering himself.
With her standing so close, he had to tilt his chin to see her properly. She stepped back, and Adam had to tilt his head to see her properly. But what a sight.
Her face was flushed, a brilliant swatch of pink across her cheeks, and what little of her chest he could see over the neck of her cardigan. Her chest was heaving as she breathed, and he felt a sense of pride. She looked up at him through half-lidded eyes, a fleeting look of bliss on her face, before she saw his face.
When she recognized who she just kissed.
A a flurry of emotions flash across her face. None of them were the hopeful look he expected. Instead, he recognized surprise, shock, and fear, along with something he can’t quite place.
Had she thought he was someone else?
That made sense. She had simply mistaken him for another six foot four, raven-haired man who would be wandering the biology lab dressed like the prince of darkness.
“Did you...Did you just kiss me?” He broke the silence, voice deeper than usual.
“Nope.”
Right. He had imagined it, obviously. She hadn’t kissed him. He was hallucinating. He should probably forget the gym, forget the papers on his desk, drive straight to the nearest hospital, and admit himself to the psychiatric ward. Obviously, he was losing it.
He took three steps, planning to splash water on his face to sober himself enough to drive to the nearest hospital, before he realized how idiotic he was being.
“Are you sure?” His voice sounded pathetic, even to him.
Maybe she had thought he was someone else.
Yes. That made sense. She had simply mistaken him for another six foot four, raven-haired man who would be wandering the biology lab in the middle of the night dressed like the prince of darkness.
Olive’s response was muffled through her hands, which were currently pressed up into her face, “It’s not the way it looks.”
Was it some sort of elaborate, horrific prank? Were her classmates hiding behind the water fountain, giggling as they recorded how clumsily he had kissed her?
The thought, no matter how improbable, was like ice in his veins. Being kissed by the woman he’d liked for so long had left him feeling vulnerable. The idea of being humiliated wrapped around him like a snake, tightening his chest. He was nearly trembling.
“Okay.” He spoke through gritted teeth, “I…Okay. What’s going on here?”
“I . . . listen, I don’t mean to be rude, but this is really none of your business.”
Pardon?
It wasn’t his business?
Humiliation turned to rage, and it coiled tight around his chest. This was a place of work, a place of education, she couldn’t walk around kissing people at random. Not only was it a sexual harassment claim waiting to happen, it wasn’t safe for Olive either.
“Yes. Of Course.” He fought to keep his voice even, “I’ll just go back to my office and begin to work on my Title IX complaint.”
“Yeah, that would be great, since-” She nodded, clearly uncomprehending. “Wait. Your what?”
Did she really not know what a Title IX was? What were they even teaching the students?
“Title IX is a federal law that protects against sexual misconduct within academic settings—"
within academic settings—”
“I know what a Title IX is.”
“I see. So, you willfully chose to disregard it.”
He wouldn’t actually file a complaint against her. As ridiculous as it was, he cared too much about her, even if he hardly knew her, to do anything that might hurt her or her career.
“I— What?” Her eyes widened, “No. No, I didn’t!”
Still, if he could teach her a lesson about kissing strangers in the hallway, and deter him from retelling this to her friends, he would.
“I must be mistaken, then.” He shrugged, trying his best to be nonchalant, “Someone else must have assaulted me.”
“Assault—I didn’t ‘assault’ you.” She sounded incredulous and offended by the suggestion.
He was feeling surprisingly vulnerable after the interaction. Adam wasn’t a physically affectionate person, so the small act of kissing her back, of touching her, had been a lot for him. Those small actions left him feeling exposed and vulnerable. She’d seen something he didn’t usually expose to the world.
She didn’t know that she was handling his heart indelicately, but it still hurt.
It was easier to feel angry about it, than confront that insecurity within himself.
He replied as calmly as he could, “You did kiss me.”
“But not really.”
No, that was definitely kiss. The best kiss he’d had in ten years, if not in his entire life.
“Without first securing my consent.” He raised an eyebrow, waiting for a response.
“I asked if I could kiss you!”
“And then did so without waiting for my response.”
For most of their conversation, she’d been avoiding eye contact, wrapping her arms around herself in clear embarrassment and discomfort. Now, she chewed on her bottom lip and was looking at him with a look of concern.
“What?” She shook her head, confused, “You said yes.”
“Excuse me?”
Her nose scrunched, and she lifted a hand to her mouth, “I asked if I could kiss you, and you said yes.”
“Incorrect. You asked if you could kiss me, and I snorted.”
“I’m pretty sure I heard you said yes.” She sounded unsure. There was a loud crack as she bite her nail. He was sure she didn’t realize she was doing it.
“Listen, I’m really sorry.” The apology sounded genuine, “It was a weird situation. Can we just forget that this happened?”
Yes, he’d forget about it just like he’d easily forgotten when they’d met in the bathroom. Because this was significantly less impactful, and less intimate, than a simple conversation about contact lenses and school applications. It would be easily forgotten, just like their first meeting had been.
He stared at her for a moment. She looked genuinely concerned that he hadn’t consented to the kiss, and the more he thought about it, the more he knew that she had asked him. She hadn’t seen his face before kissing him, but she knew she was going to kiss him before she knew who it was.
Which meant that she couldn’t have known who was about to turn the corner.
“Is something wrong?” He asked, hoping his voice sounded empathetic and not condescending.
His brain played a reel of worse-case scenarios; Perhaps a jealous ex-boyfriend was stalking her, and she’d dove into Adam’s arms for protection. It was possible that she had a moment of academic-induced hysteria, leading to a sudden urge to engage in anonymous, public sex. Or worse, she’d contracted a deadly, paranormal disease that kills the host unless transmitted to someone else via saliva.
Jesus. He needed to lay off the horror movies for a while.
“What?” She looked startled, “No. No there isn’t?”
“Because,” Adam spoke evenly, opening his posture to replicate what he’d seen in his mental health training seminars, “kissing a stranger at midnight in a science lab might be a sign that there is.”
“There isn’t.” Her tone was firm, and there was a frown on her face.
“Very well. Expect mail in the next few days, then.” As much as he wanted to beg her for the answer, he wasn’t a child, or some hormonal teenage boy. If she didn’t want to talk about it, he’d walk away.
“You didn’t even ask my name!” She shouted to his back.
Right. She didn’t remember that they’d met before. That didn’t sting, at all.
“I’m sure anyone could figure it out, since you must have swiped your badge to get in the labs area after hours.” He’d let her stew for the next few days. “Have a good night.”
He had barely taken a step before her tiny hand was wrapped around her wrist.
“Wait!”
He had a sudden, primal thought regarding her hand and how it would look compared to his other body parts, but he shoved the thought into a closet in the far recesses of his mind. It was completely inappropriate.
She jolted back. He didn’t miss the horrified expression on her face, when she realized that she’d touched him again, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to--”
“The Kiss. Explain.”
Curiosity and the satisfaction of having an answer had washed away the urge to leave her to mope, and he stepped closer.
“Anh Pham.” She began, “The girl who was passing by. She’s a graduate student in the biology department.”
The name sounded familiar, but he couldn’t picture her. Anh couldn’t have been a student in one of his labs or anyone whose papers he’d read. He had made sure he knew all his students’ names, even if he pretended otherwise.
Plus, he hadn’t seen her in the hallway. That being said, he’d only had eyes for Olive, and wouldn’t have noticed if a full-blown mariachi band had also been standing in the hallway.
“Anh has…” If Olive was blushing before, he wouldn’t be sure what to call her now. Her face was so red, it was nearly purple, “I was seeing this guy in the department. Jeremy Langley, he has red hair…”
Great. Not only had he humiliated himself, she wasn’t even single.
“Anyway, we went out just a couple of times, and then I brought him to Anh’s birthday party, and they just sort of hit it off and—” She trailed off, nervously twisting her fingers.
He could put the pieces together himself. Jeremy was an idiot who had broken up with her to date her friend. Sounded like a great ex-boyfriend.
“Long story short,” Olive continued, “After Jeremy and I ended things he asked Anh out. She said no because of girl code and all that,” Olive made air quotations at the words ‘girl code’, and Adam tried not to find it adorable, “but I can tell that she really likes him.”
That was surprising. He wasn’t dating her friend?
“She’s afraid to hurt my feelings, and no matter how many times I told her it was fine she wouldn’t believe me.”
Either Olive was a much better person than Adam, or she was lying about her true feelings to avoid confrontation with her friends. He couldn’t imagine not being jealous if ones best friend decided to date their ex, so he placed his bet on the latter.
“So I just lied and told her that I was already dating someone else. Because she’s one of my closest friends and I’d never seen her like a guy this much and I want her to have the good things she deserves and I’m positive that she would do the same for me and—” She stuttered, flushed. He’d have to call their physical plant department, to repair the hole she was currently staring into the floor.
She had put aside her own feelings so that her friend could date her ex-guilt free. Lying, whether it to be to Anh or to herself, wasn’t mature, but it was noble.
“Tonight. I told her I’d be on a date tonight.”
“Ah.” Adam replied steadily. He already knew where this was going.
“But I’m not.” Obviously. “So I decided to come in to work on an experiment, but Anh showed up, too. She wasn’t supposed to be here.” Olive stuttered, “But she was coming this way. And I panicked—well…I didn’t really think.”
Fucking obviously.
“I just needed her to believe that I was on a date.” It was clear that she was trying to justify what had happened to herself more than him, and he had a feeling that she was only just realizing the gravity of what she had done.
Her entire story was probably the most ludicrous, half-assed plan he had ever heard. It sounded like something out of a shitty, early 2000s, romantic comedy. It was an idea that only someone who cared too much for their friends and not enough for themselves would think was a good idea.
It sounded exactly like something he would do.
Something that he had done once, when he’d taken Holden to prom to make Holden’s ex-boyfriend jealous.
He nodded, filling in the rest, “So you kissed the first person you saw in the hallway. Perfectly logical.”
If anyone other than Adam had been walking down the corner, she’d probably be suspended for sexual misconduct. The explanation was ridiculous at best, but the irritation and frustration he’d been holding had dissipated. She wasn’t trying to be deceitful and she wasn’t making fun of him; she’d just made impulsive, reckless, and extremely stupid, decision.
It was surprisingly endearing.
Olive winced. “When you put it like that, perhaps it wasn’t my best moment.”
Well, it wasn’t his finest performance either.
“Perhaps.”
“But it wasn’t my worst, either! I’m pretty sure Anh saw us. Now she’ll think that I was on a date with you and she’ll hopefully feel free to go out with Jeremy and—” She frowned, “Listen. I’m so, so sorry about the kiss.”
“Are you?” He sounded hopeful, almost pathetic, even to himself.
“Please, don’t report me. I really thought I heard you say yes. I promise I didn’t mean to . . .”
Her expression had been lost somewhere in thought, but it sharpened with sudden clarity. She looked at him, brows furrowed in concern, and her lip began to tremble.
He wasn’t sure what she’d realized that had made her suddenly shift into a look of pure horror, but he could tell that behind her eyes, she was galaxies away.
“Actually, you’re absolutely right.” Her voice caught, and tears welled in her eyes, “And I am so sorry. If you felt in any way harassed by me, you really should report me, because it’s only fair.”
Oh shit.
“It was a horrible thing to do, though I really didn’t want to . . .” She continued, waving her arms as she took a step backwards. “Not that my intentions matter; it’s more like your perception of . . .”
He hadn’t wanted to make her cry. He would never want to make her cry.
And now she was crying because she was concerned for him. He’d wagered that she didn’t care about his feelings, and he was wrong. And now she was scared that she had assaulted him for god’s sake, and looked like she was on the verge of a panic attack.
He’d pushed it too far, and although her intentions were definitely misguided, they were not cruel. He didn’t feel assaulted, or have any sense that his boundaries had been crossed in any way. She didn’t deserve to feel like a monster.
“I’m going to leave now, okay?” There’s a weird look in her eye, like she’s just dropped something priceless. “Thank you, and I am so, so, so sorry.”
The words aren’t even out of her mouth before her shoes are clicking on the floor as she runs down the hallway.
“Olive,” He shouted, wondering if he should run after her, “Olive, wait—”
Adam had been aware of his size and strength since he’d hit puberty. He wasn’t not going to go chasing a young woman down a darkened hallway in the middle of the night. Even if he wanted to, and he really wanted to, that would be a terrible idea.
Almost as terrible as kissing your professor instead of just telling your friend they can date whoever they want.
Almost, but not quite.
He stood in the hallway for another fifteen minutes, leaned against the glass partition into the lab. The conversation replayed in his head, and he analyzed every sentence with the meticulousness that only an award winning scientist could.
It wasn’t until his phone dinged with another text from Holden, asking if he had made it to the gym, that Adam remembered why he had been in the hallway in the first place. The lab samples were probably, definitely, spoiled by now. He’d have to pull new ones from the fridge.
Fuck that.
It took him ten minutes to make his way through the building to his car, and another five before he was off-campus and driving home.
He didn’t keep an eye out for Olive the entire walk through the building, and definitely didn’t take a convoluted route through the building to the parking garage in the hopes that he’d bump into her.
Definitely not, because that would be completely ridiculous. She’d probably never want to speak to him again. Besides, the campus was large enough that if either of them tried, they’d never have to be in the same room again. They could avoid any interaction for the rest of her studies. He could play bigfoot to her American Midwest, hiding behind trees so he wouldn’t be seen and cause any panic.
No, they’d probably never talk to each other again. And there was no way in hell that they’d ever kiss again.
He drove down the main road back to his house, his knuckles white against the steering wheel. As he drove, he definitely rehearse what he would say to her if he ever did see her again, because that would be preposterous. He wasn’t a seventh grader asking a girl to a dance. He had a PhD for god’s sake, and she was a student. She was busy, and it’s not like he wandered around campus when he was there, or ever visited the graduate students break room that she definitely frequented.
The headlights of his car finally illuminated his own driveway, and he shifted into park. He sighed, his chest heaving on the exhale. It had been a long day. He was exhausted. Physically, from the lack of sleep and food, and emotionally, from the encounter with Olive. He felt hallowed out, and slightly fragile.
It would be okay.
He would go inside, heat up some leftovers, and go to bed. He’d wake up feeling refreshed, he’d shower, and he’d get ready for the day. It was Sunday, which meant no classes, so he could take some time to go to the gym and burn off some of the energy. Maybe he’d call Holden and ask him if he wanted to come over in the evening to play some video games.
Adam didn’t often put himself before his work, but he had a feeling he’d need to get ahead of this before he started crying on the sofa while eating ice cream straight out of the tub. Holden would join if he eventually took that route, but it wasn’t something he wanted to do.
He would take the day off and put the whole incident behind him. His students’ papers could wait until Monday. They wouldn’t notice if he waited an extra day to return their proposals. In the grand scheme of things, He wouldn’t even think about Olive, or the school, or anything relating to work until Monday.
It wasn’t until he was sliding his key into the lock, that he slammed his fist against the wooden door, a sudden realization hitting him.
He forgot the goddamn gloves.