Deep End

by Ali Hazelwood

“And this injury of yours, Scarlett…does it have anything to do with the fact that you only listed five?”

Computational biology is a piece of cake (even if Dr. Carlsen’s perennial glower is a little unsettling).

Dr. Madden is an assho—an anus, and Dr. Davis is so spectacularly incompetent, I’m never sure whether he’s rooting for the patient or the disease.

“Come on, Luk. I know you think she’s hot. You said so.” Silence.

“And I see the way you look at her.” A buzz of unease bursts in the back of my skull. “How do I look at her?” “You know how.”

“Maybe the elephant’s just…blindfolded?” He nods slowly. “And tied up.” “And doing as it’s told.” He looks like he might find that more appealing. “What a good elephant.”

I’m usually comfortable with silences—have to be, since I never really know how to break them—but

“Come closer,” he orders. Lukas stopped a step behind me. I turn and frown up at him. “Why?” “Because I just asked you to, Scarlett.”

The subject line just reads What you need. The body: If you decide to go for it, I think it should be me.

I’m starving, but my walk to the athlete dining hall is slow, because I’m busy writing an email to one Dr. Olive Smith.

Scarlett: Do you really want to be reminded of my computational superiority that often? Unknown: I do. I have a thing for women who are smarter than me.

“What I want from you requires enthusiastic consent, not convincing.”

Scarlett: In Sweden, when you text, do they charge you by the word? Lukas: There’s an emoji surcharge, but I’ll make an exception for you: Lukas:

don’t get to finish that sentence. Because Lukas Blomqvist takes a long step, pushes me into the wall, and kisses me.

“Oh, sweetheart.” My belly swoops at the endearment. His tone lives somewhere between sympathy and amusement. “If you don’t think that I’m very aware of your presence, always, you have no idea what’s going on.”

Have you ever seen strippers do their thing?” “This feels like a trick question.”