Chapter Text
Chapter Two
Adam could recall exactly two times when his brain was too scrambled to focus on science:
The first was his first, and last, hangover. Holden had convinced him to spend a rare free night of grad school in a dingy bar playing Star Trek trivia. Adam, with his overly competitive nature and expansive knowledge of Star Trek, had helped their trivia team win first place. In all the excitement of the evening and the thrill of being cheered on for his relentless nerdiness, he did not notice Holden continuously refilling his drink. He didn’t remember leaving the bar or arriving on Holden’s couch, but he did remember, with horrifying clarity, throwing up immediately after smelling the disinfectants in the lab. He got measurements wrong, wrote so sloppily he couldn’t read it back, mixed up his controls and variables. That was also his last sick day.
The second time his brain was too scrambled to focus on science was the morning after The Kiss. He kept thinking of Olive and that worried crease between her brows as she ran out of the hall and the way her lithe body felt under the tips of his fingers and that little fucking noise she made when he kissed her back. He tried, he really fucking tried, to refrain from thinking about her taste and the overwhelming sensory experience of her but any moment he spent alone, his mouth dried up and his thoughts rushed to his cock and he felt like he was going through a second puberty at 34. The half-formulated fantasies he had been having were taking a more defined shape. Still fuzzy and ill informed, but more pronounced. A few percentage points sharper.
And of course there was the problem of Holden. Holden knew something was going on, and more than likely knew it had something to do with Olive. It was how avoidant Adam had been. He wasn’t even sure he could tell Holden if he wanted to. What would he say?
Remember that girl? The one from almost three years ago that I can’t seem to shut up about? The one that I think of touching in the most feral ways even though I don’t want to touch anyone ever? Well I kissed her– or she kissed me–or we kissed but it was more of our mouths moving against each other and it meant nothing to her but maybe it meant everything to me. The parts of me she touched still burn when I think of it and it makes my head spin and it makes me want to run ten miles and it makes me want to kiss her again. What would Holden say? If he knew these thoughts? Adam thought of the way Olive’s face burned after the kiss and he didn’t want to cause anymore embarrassment or trouble for her. Adam had to resolve that this would be a thing that happened to him with a girl he liked that would never like him back and move on.
But there his brain was, stuck on her, stuck on her worried rambling and the way she talked about that boy. Adam couldn’t think of his name. Why was she so concerned with her friend and that boy? He couldn’t imagine she would have a hard time finding a real date. Why would she have to lie to her friend and hide in the lab building at 11 pm? Unless she didn’t want something real and she wanted the boy that was going out with her best friend? That must be it. The only reason she had to resort to kissing Adam. To prove to her friend that she was over that boy when she wasn’t. The reason she wasn’t pursuing anything real–
A clearing throat pulled Adam out of his spiral and gave him a moment to remember himself, remember who he was before he turned into this pathetic, jealous, pining mess. Looking across the conference room table, staring at the members of the board. His research. They were discussing his research.
“Dr. Carlsen, we’re discussing your most recent grant…”
“Yes, off-lattice cell based models with cancer researcher Dr. Tom Benton out of Harvard.” Was that the question? Did they just want to know what the grant was for?
“The board can’t help but notice that this research is different from the usual genetic modeling you do. Is there a reason?”
Of course there were many reasons. Him on the verge of quitting it all, then stumbling on a crying woman in his bathroom that seemed to trap him in the echo chamber of wanting. Quitting was not quite the right word for it, it was more of a lateral movement. Switching to industry work, maybe diversifying his studies, not having to hold a 25 year olds hand through inconsistent data. But then Olive and the bathroom and now in this meeting was not the time to be thinking about Olive or her hair or the way she tangled her fingers in Adam’s hair the other night and no. Not right now. But it was Olive, who told him her reason for studying which gave him a new reason to stay. He remembers walking into her first seminar and the nervous way she smoothed her hands down her shirt and quoted Star Trek or when she left halfway through a pharmacology lecture after hiding three bagels in her backpack. There was a lot of Olive to remember but it was hard, keeping his distance. Adam reasoned that keeping his distance was better than not seeing her at all. When he had confided in Tom about his desire for a change, Tom presented this grant opportunity and of course Adam took it. Something to make him more excited to stay. Something to keep him closer to the possibility of Olive.
Instead of saying all of that, he simply said, “this is a research institution, is it not? I’m doing research.”
A female colleague chimed in, “Yes, but I can speak for The Board when I say we are uncomfortable with your partnership with an institution that has tried to recruit you every year since you obtained your Ph.D.”
Adam had to suppress an eye roll. He knew about the offers but he liked working here. Even three years ago when he was on the verge of leaving, it wasn’t for another university. His house was on a running path he liked and his lab was big and he was never a fan of the cold and Olive–
“This collaboration is not an indication I am leaving.”
“The Board must take into account the optics of it all. All of your students are graduating soon, you rent your home, you’re collaborating with a long time friend across the country, you don’t even have any decorations in your office. It looks like you’re prepared to leave at the drop of a hat.” One faculty member said.
“And, if you’ll excuse me Dr. Carlsen, your reputation does not lend itself towards building any strong personal relationships in the department.” Another chimed in.
“My reputation?” Adam couldn’t hide his confused tone. What did any of this have to do with the work he was doing, the work he wanted to continue to do, just down the hall from Olive.
“You are not the most personable in the department. You are only at campus event when you are required to be and with the exception of Dr. Rodrigues, you have no lasting relationships that tie you to the area.”
“What does all of this mean?”
“Until we are sure you are staying and the research we are funding will be realized here, at Stanford, we have no choice but to put a temporary hold on one third of your funding.”
“All of my funding has already been allocated to my ongoing projects. By freezing one third of my funding, one million dollars, you are effectively stopping that research you so badly wish to be realized.” The faculty in the room stayed silent for a moment and Adam thought it seemed like they were waiting for him to throw his Ipad or perhaps flip the table, which were both distinct possibilities with the way his frustration was bubbling over. On a sigh, Adam continued, “Is there a timeline for this decision?”
A particularly brave faculty member started, “We will email you with more information after the board deliberates.”
Adam rose from his chair, “I think we’re done here then.”
After the meeting, Adam headed back to his office. He supposed it was a nice office, with the windows and the space and the large desk. He could decorate it, if that would help the board. Perhaps a plant. He had never taken the time to focus on anything in the room but his computer screen and the seemingly endless amount of emails he received. Right now, his mind was focused on the disaster that was that meeting and how he was supposed to sit here and wait for the board to vote to freeze his funding and the way Olive stretched during a department lab demonstration last semester showing a strip of skin under her shirt and sending his finalized proposal back to Tom and the way Olive melted into him for a second before she remembered herself and grading these labs and Olive and Olive and Olive and…he needed coffee.
Adam stood at the doorway of the breakroom and knew he should move, make himself known, but it had been days since The Kiss, days since he saw her and her voice froze him to the spot.
“What do you mean?” Olive asked whoever she was speaking to. Her voice sounded winded and worried and a little bit like it did when she was trying to tell him she hadn’t just kissed him.
“I mean that we talk every minute of every day and you never mentioned Carlsen before. My closest friend is supposedly seeing the superstar professor of the department and somehow I’ve never heard of it? You know his reputation, right? Is it some kind of a joke? Do you have a brain tumor? Do I have a brain tumor?”
She must be speaking to the Anh she was referencing the other night. The Anh who was out with the boy Olive wanted to see. And Adam couldn’t help but notice there was a lot of talk about his reputation going on today. He couldn’t help that, but he could help Olive. He wasn’t sure what he was doing but he could practically hear her thoughts spiraling like they did that day in the bathroom and that night in the hall and he put one leg in front of the other and brought his arm out and placed it just hovering over the small of her back in what Adam hoped was a reassuring gesture and he needed to say something, anything–
“Hey.”
He hoped he spoke evenly and maybe this problem of Olive’s would go away with his mere presence and if it didn’t maybe he could help, maybe she would let him help. He kept his touch light but he felt it up through his arm and directly to his chest and he wanted to hold it there, stare at Olive from above. All at once he forgot why he was here, what made this a good idea, he just saw Olive and she looked worried.
“Oh. Um, hey.”
“Is everything okay?”
Her eyes met his and a bit of that previous worry seemed to flicker out, or maybe Adam was imagining that. It had been almost three years of nothing and now they had kissed and here he was with his hand on the small of her back, her skin cold even through the fabric of her shirt under his featherlight touch. He wanted to fold her into him and keep her warm. Adam liked how small she was, how he could look down and see her looking back up, and how she didn’t move away from him at that moment. She just stared and he could’ve looked forever.
“Yes. Yes. Everything is great. Anh and I were just..chatting. About our weekends.”
Adam raged against breaking his eye contact with Olive but he did, looking at this Anh person who seemed to be studying the place where Adam had his hand rested. Anh must’ve seen the kiss and Adam could imagine the line of questioning he would face if Holden had seen him kissing the woman he’s been half obsessed with for years. He relaxed his hand a bit lower on Olive.
“Nice to meet you, Anh. I’ve heard a lot about you,” Adam said because it was true. During that brief, surreal moment Olive had spoken of Anh and how much she cared for Ahn and how much it meant that Anh could…what? What had Anh wanted that meant Olive had to kiss Adam? He couldn’t remember, not with as much detail as he was remembering Olive’s lips on his and now the tingling feeling his palm against her back.
“Nice to meet you, too,” Ahn said with wide eyes and a dose of disbelief. “Um, I was just about to leave. Ol, I’m going to text you when…yeah.”
Anh left and Adam now felt stupid with his hand against her back. She probably didn’t want it there, just like she didn’t want to kiss him the other night. Maybe he had completely misread the situation and Olive would slap him in the face. How had he gone almost three years without talking to her and now this? Olive looked flushed and worried and her eyes were darting. He put some space in between them.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yes. Yes, I just…” Olive waved her hand. “Thank you.”
Oh good it helped, Adam just wanted to help. “You’re welcome.” I would do anything for you.
“Did you hear what she said? About Friday and…”
“I did. That’s why I…” Adam looked down at his hand and he could still picture the feel of her skin under his, even through her shirt. The touch, just like the kiss, is permanently archived in his DNA.
“Thank you,” she repeated. Adam just looked. He was dealing with a tsunami of feelings over her being grateful, over her needing and receiving his help. “Also, uh, I couldn’t help noticing that no agents from the Federal Bureau of Investigation have knocked on my door to arrest me in the past seventy-two hours.”
Adam felt his mouth start to curve slightly. “Is that so?”
Olive nodded. “Which makes me think that maybe you haven’t filed that complaint. Even though it would have been totally within your rights. So, thank you. For that. And…and for stepping in, right now. You saved me a lot of trouble.”
As much as Adam relished in the idea of helping Olive, he couldn’t help but observe Olive would not need help if she was just honest with Anh. She was not responsible for Anh’s feelings and Olive should not have to sacrifice herself or her comfort to make her friends feel better. “You shouldn’t need someone to step in.”
“Well it’s not as if I asked for you to do anything. I was going to handle it by myse–”
“And you shouldn’t have to lie about your relationship status,” Adam continued, “Especially not so that your friend and your boyfriend can get together guilt-free. That’s not how friendship works last I checked.”
“It’s not like that.” Adam lifted an eyebrow, but Olive lifted a hand in defense. “Jeremy wasn’t really my boyfriend. And Anh didn’t ask me for anything. I’m not some sort of victim, I just… want my friend to be happy.”
“By lying to her,” About your feelings, about who you’re with, about what does and doesn’t make you happy, about who does and doesn’t make you happy.
“Well, yeah, but…she thinks we’re dating you and I,” Olive blurted and flushed ever so slightly. Like the idea sounded so ridiculous she couldn’t comprehend it. Adam wasn’t even sure she knew his name. She would have no reason to remember him, which was pretty fucking twisted seeing as Adam has done nothing but remember her for the past three years.
“Yeah.” She nodded, sipping from her mug. “Yeah. I guess it was. By the way–I’m Olive Smith. In case you’re still interested in filing that complaint. I’m a Ph.D. student in Dr. Aslan’s lab—”
“I know who you are.” Adam cut in. A little bit more like the impatient brusque guy he knows himself to be. The beast Olive seems to fend off.
“Oh.” She stayed looking straight ahead. Adam stood in the silence and then realized that Olive was probably waiting for him to introduce himself. Suddenly Adam found himself to be nervous. Nervous in a way that he hadn’t ever been, with snow flurries in his stomach and clammy palms. Nervous in a way that she must not be.
“I’m Adam. Carlsen. I’m faculty in—”
And Olive started…laughing? That can’t be right. Why would she be laughing? These three years and they haven’t had any contact and she clearly had friends and boyfriends and reasons not to think about Adam. Despite the circumstances, Adam loved the way her laugh sounded, the way it curled around his brain like a cat and calmed him.
“Right. Um, I know who you are, too, Dr. Carlsen.”
Ah. Dr. Carlsen. “You should probably call me Adam.”
“Oh. Oh, no.” Right, Olive didn’t want a personal relationship with Adam. But Adam now had an excuse, a reason for her to want to at least pretend to be personal with him. For this guy she wanted to convince her friend she didn’t like “I could never–”
“If Anh happens to be around.”
“Oh. Yeah.” She nodded, nervous and looking like she’s about to flee and Adam couldn’t blame her for not wanting to stay, “If that’s o-okay with you. I’m going to go home, because this whole thing was kind of stressful and…” she trailed off in that Olive way. Olive, taking care of everyone around her, concerned with the feelings of everyone around her, not caring for herself.
Adam nodded, “I’ll walk you to your car.”
“I’m not that distraught.”
“In case Anh’s still around.” It was a good excuse, wasn’t it. Adam was starting to like Anh.
“Thanks. But no need.”
Adam hesitated for a moment. He had liked her from afar for so long, fantasized about gross things he would do to her– for her– but his most primal fantasies were making sure she was okay and taken care of. He couldn’t have stopped himself if he wanted to, “I’d feel better if you let me walk you to your car.”
“I don’t have a car.”
“Do you take the bus?”
“I bike. And my bike is right at the entrance of the building.”
Adam pictured the roads around the university, the large parking lot, the fast moving cars. It made him want to break her bike into tiny little pieces, put her in the passenger seat of his car, take her wherever she needed to go. Opening and closing his mouth, trying to decide on something less abrasive to say, he settled on, “There are no bike lanes around here.”
She shrugged, “I like to live dangerously. And I have a helmet. I’ll see you around, okay?”
Adam briefly considered leaving computational biology altogether to become her personal uber driver but that seemed extreme and more than Olive could handle. He took a deep breath. “Yeah. Okay.”
