Page 8 of Intersect

My anger is probably more at the situation than him, but it’s a struggle to rein it in. “I don’t need a lecture. And if you learned Julie was dying would you just take off?”

“Of course not,” says Jace, “but Julie’s my wife. This is some girl from college you forgot about.”

“I never forgot about her. Not really,” I tell him. “And it’s different with her. Night and day.” I wish I could explain what it’s like—that it feels like a compulsion, that I feel out of control around her in ways I never have before—but it wouldn’t exactly help my case.

“Of course it’s fucking different. Sex with someone new is always going to be more exciting, but that doesn’t mean you’re meant to be with her.”

My shoulders sag at the introduction of yet another sore subject. “I haven’t even slept with her yet.”

Jace’s eyes widen. “You’re risking your career for someone you’re not even sleeping with? Dude…really?”

“Which one is it?” I snap. “Is your problem with the fact that we’re together at all, or is it that I’m not sleeping with her?”

He sighs. “Neither. Both. Look, before this goes any further I just hope you really give it some thought. She’s relying on you to save her life, so you may be really into this girl, but you need to ask yourself why she’s really with you.”

* * *

Ask yourself why she’s really with you.

I gnaw on that phrase the whole way back to my office. It’s not that I actually doubt Quinn is with me for the right reasons. Our connection was there long before she needed to worry about the tumor. But if there’s really some greater purpose to our union, why me? She has a super power, even if she doesn’t use it. But I’m a normal guy. Why would nature or God or whoever is orchestrating this need me involved too? If her purpose is to change the world or stop some terrible evil from happening, shouldn’t it be fucking Superman by her side? She definitely needs someone who can do more than diagnose neurological disorders and swim a fast 400. But it is me, and I feel certain there must be a reason for that. I’ve just got no clue what it is.

“Reilly,” barks a voice. I turn to find Ed Philbin, the head of the department, coming up behind me quickly. “We need to have a chat.”

I thought I had a few weeks to get this figured out. Apparently not.

“Hey Ed,” I say, turning toward him reluctantly. “What’s up?”

“There’ve been some rumors going around,” he begins and my stomach sinks. “Heard you’re single now.”

My tongue pokes at the inside of my cheek. I’m not sure if he’s leading up to my relationship with Quinn or hoping I’ll cop to it myself. I shrug. “Not exactly. I just started seeing someone. Why do you ask?”

His gaze is steady. It could be his gaze is always steady, or it could be he’s trying to hint that he knows more about the situation than he’s letting on. “We have our rec league basketball playoffs Friday. Could use your help.” Ed’s asked me about this more times than I can count, I suppose because I’m four inches taller than anyone on the team. But this time it feels different—it feels a bit like a quid pro quo: you scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours. I’ll come help them out, and he won’t look too closely at the rumors.

Which means I really don’t have a choice.

4

QUINN

I rise, trying to put Caroline’s ridiculous doubts from last night out of my head. She left a note this morning that she was “plotting” to get me laid on tonight’s date with Nick. Her goal is over-ambitious, obviously, but I’d settle for a kiss that doesn’t end in an apology.

I walk down the street to get a bagel. Maybe there are some imperfect things in my life at the moment, but I’m out and about on a Wednesday morning without a single responsibility and it’s hard not to feel pretty good. Nick texts as I walk, making my heart take another small leap. The mere sight of his name stirs something giddy and ebullient in my chest. I’ve heard other girls describe this phenomenon, but it’s a first for me. All he’s said is good morning and I want to break into a song and dance number right here on P Street. Maybe he’s freaked out about the pregnancy thing but he’s still texting me. It’s got to mean something.

Nick: Any dreams last night?

Me: I’m not sure it’s something I should be putting in a text while you’re at work.

Nick: Okay, I absolutely need to know right now. Were we naked?

Me: It would take all the fun out of it if I told you that.

Nick: I had some dreams too. I have no problem telling you we were naked. We’ll compare notes tonight.

Not the response of a guy who isn’t interested. I’m smiling as I walk into the lobby, so unaware of anything but my own happiness that I don’t even notice Jeff until he’s standing right in front of my face.

He’s unshaven, wearing jeans and a T-shirt instead of work clothes. I’ve been letting his calls go to voicemail, so I suppose I owe him a discussion of some kind—I just really don’t want one.

His face is tight, a vein throbbing in his temple. “Can we talk?” He glances toward the front desk. “In private?”