Page 10 of Rush
I step onto the bus and turn to look at him. "See you around, Rush."
"Yeah."
I take a seat but don’t look out the window. I already know he's watching.
Saturday, I spend the entire day in the lab. My samples aren't cooperating and I'm starting to think I need to redesign the whole experiment.
At around three, Maya finds me staring at failed results. "Still here?"
"Yeah."
"You need a break."
"I need these samples to work."
She leans against my bench. "They'll work better if you're not exhausted. Come get coffee with me."
I want to argue but she's right. I've been staring at the same data for two hours.
We walk to the café down the street and order lattes, then we sit by the window.
"So," Maya says. "Tell me about the motorcycle club."
"What about it?"
"Is it weird? Being around all that?"
"Not really. I grew up around it."
"Your dad's really the VP?"
"In South Carolina, yeah."
"And that doesn't freak you out?"
I think about it. "No. Should it?"
"I don't know, seems intense."
"It is intense, but it's also family. The club takes care of its own."
"Even you?"
"Especially me. I'm Diesel's daughter."
Maya processes that, then she grins. "You're kind of a badass."
"I'm really not."
"You grew up in a motorcycle club and now you're doing a postgrad in immunology—that's badass."
I laugh. "If you say so."
We finish our coffee and head back to the lab. I work until eight and then I go home to my flat.
It's small but it's mine—one bedroom, tiny kitchen, just enough space for me and my books.
I make dinner and settle on the couch with a journal article. My phone buzzes around nine.
