Is Tim scared?
“I— You— I didn’t mean to,” he stammers, but Levi interrupts him.
“Nice to see you again,” he says in a commanding, dismissive tone. Tim must take it as what it is: an order to scurry away.
“What just happened?” I whisper while Levi pulls out my chair. Apparently, we’re in 1963.
“Look.” He points at Sam’s food. “They have quinoa bowls.”
“Why does Tim look terrified?”
He gives me an innocent look. “He does?”
“Levi. What did you say to him?”
Levi ignores me. “Sam, does that bowl have eggs in it?”
The first twenty minutes aren’t that bad. The problem with round tables is that you can’t fully ignore anyone’s existence, but Tim and Annie are distant enough that I can chat with others without it being too awkward. Aspects of this are genuinely nice—having Sam around, hearing that old acquaintances got married, had kids, found academic jobs, bought houses. Once in a while Levi’s elbow brushes against mine, reminding me that I’m not wholly alone. There’s someone in my corner. A guy who loves Star Wars, and is too tall for space, and will take care of a kitten for half his life.
Then there’s a lull in conversation, and someone asks from across the table, “How did you two end up working together, anyway?”
Everyone tunes in after that. All eyes are on Levi and me. Sadly, Levi is chewing on a potato wedge. So I say, “It’s an NIH-NASA collab, Mike.”
“Oh yeah, right.” Mike looks a bit buzzed, but he takes another sip of his punch. He was a third year when I joined the lab. Also: he was a shithead. “But, like, how are you two managing it? Levi, do you bleach your brain after every meeting, or . . . ?”
My cheeks burn. Some people chuckle, a couple laugh outright, and others look away, clearly embarrassed. Sam frowns, and from the corner of my eye I see Tim smirk. I wish I had a witty comeback, but I’m too mortified by the fact that Levi finding me disgusting is still the lab’s funniest inside joke. I open my mouth without knowing what to say, and—
“We’re doing great,” Levi tells Mike, his tone a mix of big-dick calm and I could kill a man with a beach ball. He leisurely puts his arm on the back of my chair, and plucks a grape from my plate. A deafening silence falls at the table. Everyone is looking at us. Everyone. “What about you, Mike?” Levi asks without bothering to look up from my food. “I heard there were problems with your tenure packet. How’s that coming along?”
“Oh, um . . .”
“Yeah. I thought so.”
Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit. I guess Levi’s done eating his potatoes?
“Out of curiosity,” he whispers in my ear once the conversation has moved along and Mike is looking down at his own plate, chastised. “Did everyone think that I hated you, back in grad school? It wasn’t just your delusion?”
“It was a widely known truth.”
His arm tenses around my shoulders, as tight as his jaw.
A few minutes later I excuse myself to go to the restroom. I have eye makeup on, but I say “Screw it” and wash my face with cold water anyway. Who’s going to be looking at my runny eyeliner anyway? Levi? Weepy Mess Bee is nothing he hasn’t already seen.
Then I notice her. Annie, in the mirror. She’s standing right behind me, waiting for me to finish using the sink. Except there are three more sinks, and zero other people in the bathroom. So maybe it’s just me she’s waiting for.
My head hurts. And so does my heart, around the edges Annie cracked in it two years ago. I can’t talk to her. Can’t. Can’t. I take my time drying my face with my sleeves. Then I buck up, turn around, and face her.
She’s stunningly beautiful. Always has been. There’s something indescribable about her, something magic that made me happy to be in her presence. Oddly enough, the feeling is still there, a mix of familiarity and love and awe that knifes deep as I stare at her face. Seeing Tim again was painful, but it’s nothing, nothing compared to having Annie right here.
For a moment I’m terrified. She can hurt me very, very deeply with just a few choice words. But then she says, “Bee,” and I realize that she’s crying. Judging by the burning in my eyes, so am I.
“Hey, Annie.” I attempt a smile. “Long time no see.”
“Yeah, I . . . yeah.” She nods. Her lips are trembling. “I love your hair. Purple might be my favorite.”