For Research Purposes | ✔

CHAPTER TWO

     "You're burning your eggs," Calla says and Sage glances at his pan where his eggs are crackling and then back at his phone. There's no way she could know they're burning (they aren't) since she's in Montauk and currently watching him through her iPhone.

     "I'm not burning them," he says. "And how would you know? You can't even see them."

     "Because you always burn your eggs and I can see how high the heat is," she responds. Sage glances at the oven and reduces it just a little. He can cook alright. It's not anything to write home about. But he's never really mastered eggs.

     He leans down into frame and waves the spatula at her. "Stop backseat cooking," he says.

     "So tell me what's up," she says. "You've been avoiding the point of this call for the last twenty minutes."

     Sage shovels his eggs onto a plate and takes his phone with him to the island. His apartments dark. He didn't turn on any lights when he came in, so the only thing illuminating him is the overcast skies streaming through the large windows across the room. Calla is bathed in sunlight, sitting outside by the pool of their summer home. Montauk's not all that far, but the weather's clearly holding up better there.

     "I got offered the RA position for Olekev," Sage says as he forks some eggs and takes a bite.

     "Well, that's amazing, right? Why aren't you thrilled?" Calla asks. "You've only been talking about Olekev for the last three years of your life. I feel like I know the woman."

     "That's because she's absolutely brilliant."

     "Still doesn't explain why you're giving me sulky Sage vibes," she says. Sulky Sage is not a thing but Calla's insistent she's going to make it one.

     "She offered the position to someone else, too. A joint RA thing."

      Calla sits up, making a face. She pushes her sunglasses up into her hair so she can really look at Sage. "Someone as in Sam?" Her tone changes, all insinuation when she says his name.

      "Yes, Sam," Sage mutters.

     Calla erupts into a fit of laughter, which only makes Sage glare harder. "Wow," she says. "Oh wow. That's gold."

     "It's really not funny," he says.

     "Enemies fated to work together to defeat the magical, mystical economic research," Calla says wistfully.

     "You've been spending too much time on booktok," Sage responds and Calla laughs guiltily.

      "Honestly, what does economic research even entail..."

     "It's actually really interesting," Sage says and Calla makes a face like she's going to tune him out if he continues so he doesn't. In actuality, the work Olekev's intending to do is right up his alley. He'd been following the US's occupation of Afghanistan for a few years now, particularly when Trump started talks of pulling them out.

     "But wait—," Calla says suddenly. Sage looks up from his food, meeting her questioning stare. "You accepted the position, right?"

     Sage has just taken a bite and is chewing when Calla repeats, "Right?"

     He nods. "Yeah, no, yeah. I did. Of course I did."

     "Okay, good. Because turning it down just to avoid working with someone is ridiculous. And childish. And you're like way too old for that," she says.

     "I'm not old."

     "You can drink legally. That's like super old. Oh speaking of, can you score me alcohol for this party I have coming up?"