Chapter 25: Centrifuge
Timeline: 22:30, Wednesday
Location: The Commons / Agonwood Staff Rowhouses
The party broke up with the reluctance that comes from knowing reality is waiting for you in the morning. Even with a 72-hour delay on the parts, we all knew the clock was ticking.
Most of the group was ready to crash, but I couldn't just walk away. Dan and Ellie had cooked for an army, which meant there was a disaster zone of dirty plates, sticky margarita glasses, and grease-spattered tongs.
I started stacking plates.
"Lonna, leave it," Dan said, waving a spatula. "Ellie and I got it."
"You cooked," I said, grabbing a stack of napkins. "I clean. That's the roommate contract. Article 4, Section 2."
I marched into the small kitchenette of the Guest Suite. I expected to be alone, scrubbing grease in silence.
I wasn't.
Alex followed me in, carrying the platter of leftover burgers. He set it on the counter and immediately rolled up the sleeves of his cashmere sweater.
"You don't have to do that," I said, reaching for the dish soap. "Alex, you own the building. You shouldn't be scrubbing the pans."
"I ate the food," Alex said simply, picking up a drying towel. "And my mother would haunt me if I let a host clean up alone. Wash. I'll dry."
For ten minutes, we worked in a comfortable, domestic rhythm. I scrubbed the grill grates; Alex dried the wine glasses. He didn't complain, he didn't try to optimize my scrubbing technique, and he didn't check his phone. He just helped.
It was… nice. Disturbingly nice.
Marcus wandered in a moment later with a trash bag. "Trash is out. Recycling is sorted." He looked at Alex drying a spatula. "You're handy for a billionaire, Greyson."
"I contain multitudes," Alex said with a smile.
Julian, of course, did not help. He stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame, checking his watch. He wasn't being rude, exactly. He was just... supervising.
"If the domestic cosplay is finished," Julian said, "we have an early start tomorrow."
"Doesn't cosplay require costumes?" I asked, turning off the faucet.
Julian looked at Alex's rolled-up sleeves, then at my soapy hands. "You're pretending to be normal people living normal lives. I'd say the disguise is convincing enough."
He pushed off the doorframe. "Let's go."
"His Lordship hath decreed we are done," I said, drying my hands and ignoring his existential critique. "Thanks for the help, Alex."
"Anytime," Alex said with a chuckle.
That was so uncool, but he still pretended to laugh.
We said our goodbyes to Dan and Ellie, who promised to hold down the fort (and eat the leftovers).
That left the four of us—Alex, Marcus, Julian, and me—walking across the gravel path toward the staff rowhouses. The air had cooled significantly, the fog rolling in to reclaim the campus from the warmth of the day.
Marcus walked on my left, his presence heavy and grounding. He was the only one who had matched Dan drink-for-drink and still walked in a perfectly straight line.
Alex walked on my right, hands in his pockets now. He looked up at the moon, exhaling a soft breath—or calculating how to corner the market on extraterrestrial minerals.
"A successful morale event," Alex noted. "Your friends are… vigorous."
"They're a lot," I admitted. "But they keep me sane."
"Sanity is undervalued in our line of work," Alex said. He stopped at the walkway to Unit 1. He turned to me, his expression soft in the amber glow of the pathway lights.
"Lonna, you've been running on adrenaline and caffeine for a week. Take the downtime. Sleep in."
I nodded.
It's not that I don't try. "Someone" keeps edging me.
"Goodnight, Lonna. Gentlemen." Alex nodded to the others, then swiped his badge into his unit. The door clicked shut, leaving us with the quiet hum of the campus generators.
Marcus stopped at his door (Unit 4). He looked at me, then at Julian, who was standing perfectly still a few feet away near Unit 2.
"You good, Lonna?" Marcus asked, his voice dropping to that protective register he used to use when we walked home from late labs in Morgantown.
"I'm good," I said. "Just going to crash. Nephy won't know what to do with my being home so early."
Marcus chuckled. "She's probably waiting for me." He leaned in closely and said softly, "Did you want to come in?"
Would that make things more complicated? Now, I'm tempted by the nostalgia, among other things…
As a warm feeling rushed over me, Marcus gave me a tight hug. "You know you're always welcome, neighbor." Then he released me and actually winked. A wink!
Was that the drinks talking?
"Night, Lon," Marcus said as he went inside.
I turned toward Unit 3. My bed was calling my name. I took a step toward the door, fishing for my key card.
"You're not going to sleep," Julian said.
I froze. I turned around.
Julian was standing in front of his door, but he wasn't looking at it. He was looking at me. The shadows cut across his face, sharpening his cheekbones. He looked like a creature that only woke up when the sun went down.
"I am definitely going to sleep," I countered. "I'm exhausted."
"You're physically tired," Julian corrected. "But your brain is still vibrating. You're thinking about the capacitors. You're thinking about the thermal load. And…"
He took a step closer, crossing the imaginary boundary between neighborly chat and invasion.
"…you're thinking about how 'boring' I am."
I felt a flush rise up my neck. "I said that on a roof at midnight. I was frustrated."
"You challenged me," Julian said. "You said if I wanted to hunt, I should hunt."
He held up a key fob. It wasn't the standard GIG plastic fob. It was heavy, metallic, and carbon fiber.
"Come with me," he said.
"Where? To the lab?"
"No. To the garage."
He turned and walked toward the detached garage block that sat at the end of the rowhouse drive. He didn't look back to see if I was following. He knew I would.
Dammit. He knows I'm curious.
I groaned. But I still followed him.
He stopped in front of Bay 2. He pressed the button on the fob. The heavy door rolled up with a smooth mechanical whir.
Inside, under the stark white LED strips, it was a low, wide, four-wheeled machine painted a matte charcoal grey. It was aggressive with exposed carbon fiber and a rear spoiler that looked like it could slice bread.
If he were reincarnated as a car, that would be it.
"McLaren 765LT," Julian said, walking over to it. "Zero to sixty in 2.7 seconds. Top speed 205 miles per hour."
He opened the passenger door. It swung up like a wing.
"Get in."
"Julian, it's after ten o'clock at night. And I've been drinking. You know, the world's favorite muscle relaxant."
"One beer. Three hours ago. And I haven't had any. Obviously, I'm driving," he dismissed. "And the roads are empty."
He looked at me over the roof of the car. I knew he was daring me—another test of wills.
"You want to understand energy, Dr. Patricks? You want to feel what happens when you apply force to mass without a filter?"
He smirked.
"Or do you want to go to bed and dream about math?"
I looked at the car. It was terrifying. It was beautiful.
This is the perfect car for a function-obsessed engineer. No… it was the perfect car for the "anti-prince."
"I know about spoilers and wind disruption, Julian…" But I still walked around the front and slid into the low bucket seat that naturally reclined the occupant.
Julian slid into the driver's seat. It was like he integrated with the machine. He pressed the start button.
"Why do all of your explanations sound so salacious? Like you live for double entendres? Is that part of your Bad Boy persona?"
"Seatbelt," he ordered, ignoring my questions.
I clicked the heavy harness into place.
Julian shifted into gear. We rolled out of the garage, past the staff rowhouses, and toward the perimeter gate.
The guard waved us through without blinking. Apparently, Julian Vane leaving the facility in a missile at night was standard operating procedure.
We hit the access road and he floored it.
My head slammed back against the headrest. My stomach dropped into my shoes. The world outside the window smeared into a blur of dark trees and streaking lights.
"Physics!" I yelled over the engine roar. "Inertia! G-force!"
Julian didn't speak. His hands were light on the wheel, his eyes scanning the road with a terrifying intensity. I could swear he was calculating trajectories.
We hit the winding roads that led up into the Agonwood hills. He drove like he was on a technical course used in car commercials that had the "Professional driver on a closed course. Do not attempt." disclaimer.
He broke hard for a hairpin turn—my body threw itself forward against the straps—then accelerated out of the apex with a violence that made me gasp. I grabbed onto the seat to keep in control of my body that he was jerking around.
Another metaphor?
He took the next corner faster. The tires screamed, but the car held.
"Do you trust the friction coefficient?" Julian asked calmly, his voice barely raised.
"I trust the math!" I shouted, gripping the door handle. "I'm less sure about the driver!"
"I am the math," Julian said.
WTF?!
He downshifted. The engine popped and crackled. We flew up the ridge line, climbing higher, the city lights of the Bay Area spreading out below us like a glittering circuit board.
He wasn't reckless—that was the most annoying part. He was perfect. Every turn was precise. Every shift was timed to the millisecond. He was controlling a chaotic explosion of horsepower with absolute authority.
We reached the summit, a wide turnout overlooking the valley.
Julian broke again, bringing the car to a smooth stop right at the edge of the overlook. The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the ticking of the cooling metal.
I was breathing hard, adrenaline flooding my system and my pulse racing.
I looked at Julian.
He was looking at me, expecting some type of response. He had one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting on the center console, inches from my thigh.
"Well?" Julian asked softly. "Boring?"
I swallowed, trying to find my voice. "Terrifying," I said. "But technically perfect."
"But not boring," he insisted.
"No," I admitted. "Not boring."
He unbuckled his seatbelt and turned in his seat to face me fully. Shadows from ambient light hid most of his face.
"You think I'm a robot, Lonna. You think Alex is the human one because he brings you wine and asks about your feelings. You think Marcus is the safe one because he remembers you hate pizza. And because he helps you take out the trash."
He leaned in. The scent of him—expensive cologne, leather, and burnt octane—filled the small cabin.
"And you?" I whispered. The air in the car felt suddenly thin.
"I want to know how it works," Julian said. "I want to take it apart. I want to see what happens when you push it until it breaks."
He reached out. His fingers grazed my cheek, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. His touch was cold, precise, and electric.
"You aren't boring either, Lonna Patricks. You're a variable I haven't solved yet."
He held my gaze for a second longer—just long enough for me to wonder if he was going to kiss me or dismantle me.
Then, the mask slid back into place.
He pulled his hand back and gripped the steering wheel.
"Heart rate elevated," Julian noted, checking the dashboard clock. "Adrenaline peaked. You won't be thinking about thermal loads tonight."
I wanted to yell at him to stop doing that. To stop making me think he wants me and pulling back when I'm on the edge.
"Everything has to be a metaphor with you," I mumbled.
He put the car in gear.
"Let's go back. We have work to do in seventy-two hours."
He drove us down the mountain. He drove the speed limit.
I stared out the window, watching the distant lights blur and then disappear as we descended. My hands were shaking slightly in my lap.
He's right. I'm not thinking about the capacitors anymore. I'm thinking that the jackhammer was a much more apt description than even I intended.
We pulled back into the vehicle bay, and I unbuckled my seatbelt to leave.
"Put it back on," he ordered.
"What?" I said with genuine confusion.
"Put your seatbelt back on."
"Are we going somewhere else?"
"Now." His tone was sharp and commanding.
I swallowed and crossed the seatbelt back over my body until it clicked again. I averted my eyes.
Julian unhooked the seatbelt but held onto the end before pulling it tightly, leaning over to wrap it around the back of the seat with his right arm arm to keep me in place.
"Are you afraid?" I didn't want to see what face he was making. I was pretty sure he was in domination mode. "No, I can tell you're excited," he said, answering his own question.
He tightened even more by wrapping it around his forearm (as far as I could hear). He leaned in close to my ear and put his left hand on my thigh, slowly inching it up.
He said the next part softly so I could still hear the deep tone of his voice, "You pretend to be demure. But it's clear that you're actually coy."
My mind was blank. I literally could not think of anything. I just waited to see what he would do next.
"Lonna, is this all that you want from me? Some temporary release?"
I found my voice, but still couldn't look in his direction and it came out very softly. "Stop it."
"Hmm?"
I was more insistent. "Stop it, Julian."
He immediately let go of my thigh and the seatbelt, which zipped back into the door.
"Then stop acting like an animal in heat. You're better than that." He opened his own door as he said, "Get out."
You mother-f'ing…!
Internally, I was yelling and cursing at him. I was making up new ones because none of them seemed quite powerful enough.
Externally, I just followed his order, keeping my head low like a scolded child.
I hate… I couldn't finish it. I walked to my door, waved my keycard and scooped up a waiting Nephy. She didn't like to be hugged, but she purred nonetheless.
I headed upstairs to my bedroom and stroked her fur a few times after placing her on the bed.
I hate that he's right.
But he's still a… son of a schnikey!