[fanfiction] - Adam Carlson's POV of the Love Hypothesis

coincidences

"...is this some kind of joke? Do you have a brain tumor? Do I have a brain tumor?"

There was some crisp undertone in that woman's voice, I immediately disliked. Or, more precisely, it wasn't so much dislike as it was some weird feeling to counter. On Olive's behalf. It was so intense, almost overpowering, that my hands jumped into actions, before my brain had followed all the way through. 

"Hey." My voice is strangely raspy, like I haven't used it in a day, which is just wrong, since I gave a prolongued speech about lab safety to two undergrads just ten minutes ago. 

My hand, the one, that's following it's own mind, have found the part of Olive's spine, just above the swell of her butt... and I know, that my hand isn't supposed to feel at home there the way it does, but I let it linger there anyway, I don't even fight it. 

And maybe I should. Because this is all going way to smooth. This is all playing way to hard into my own agenda and that is - statistically speaking - never a good sign. Coincidences never align so flawlessly. 

But this opportunity right here is just... too good to not pick up on. 

And I see that unknown womans face - Anh Pham, if I deduct all my knowledge correctly. She looks just the right amount of suspiciously starstruck, to reassure me, that I completed the narrative, Olive had tried to build up: Her dating me - the 'infamous Dr. Carlsen'. 

And my mind would probably linger right there - at the building-a-facade-part, if not Olive - standing way too close by my side - would have stretched her neck to meet my gaze. 

"Uh, ehm...hey." Her voice is even more raspy than mine and there is a helpless slip in there, that is making me feel - a lot. Almost too much to determine it right away. A sudden streak of possesiveness bites into my neck. This is my call to guide her through her own white lies. 

"Is everything okay?" I say it in a low voice, almost a whisper, because right this moment I don't care at all about the audience. She is all I care about. She and her behalf. And although I'm sure, I'm giving too much away by prolonging our mutual stare, I simultanously try to reassure her: I'm in. With you. If you want to. 

"Yes. Yes. Everything is great. Anh and I were just chatting. About our weekends." I'm hyperaware of the fact, that she hasn't moved away from me yet. From my lingering touch at her back. And maybe my wishful thinking is taking it's toll on me, but right that moment I can't fight the impression, that she even moved closer. 

Well, that's the clue to jump on. And I don't debate, I act. Immediately. 

"Nice to meet you, Anh. I've heard a lot about you." No rasp in my voice here. Not even a glimpse of remorse about lying to that woman's face. I actually feel pretty good. Too good. 

Bad sign. Really bad sign. 

The hand, that still lingers on Olives spine heats up enough to probably warm the entire department. She must feel it. Still, she isn't moving away. 

"Nice to meet you, too. Uhm... I was just about to leave. Ol, I'm going to text you when... yeah." 

Anh Pham is officially convinced. No doubt here. 

That should relax me, shouldn't it?

Yeah, well, it doesn't. Every muscle of my body is as tight as a violin string. And maybe some of this tense looming over her might be too much. Maybe, giving her some space is the right thing to do, although it feels like the opposite of what I want. But that... is maybe the clue in it: Doing the opposite of what my overly possessive mind wants to do is the correct way. 

It takes a ridiculous amount of strength to move away, but in the end, my muscles comply. 

There is a hint of panic in her gaze, as I do, and it rushes my blood.