Stuck with You (The STEMinist Novellas, #2)

by Ali Hazelwood

Wow. Wow, wow, wow. What was that? I’ve been in this elevator for approximately nine minutes and my brain is already developing Swiss cheese–style holes.

Oh my God. What is wrong with me? This poor man just gave me his croissant.

energy-efficient (I hope?)

“You think I would be okay with you putting yourself in danger?”

“Would you really rather do something that idiotic and reckless than be in here with me for a few more minutes?”

“I don’t know if this is a date,” he says, serious, “but if it isn’t, will you go on one with me?”

After weeks of sometimes-murderous, often-mopey, intense rage, I finally told Erik that I’d rather take my chances and fall down an elevator shaft—Return of the Jedi Emperor Palpatine style—than spend one more minute with him. I told him, and from the way his lips pressed together, he really hated hearing it. Now his eyes are closed and he’s leaning his head back against the wall. Which, given his reserved Nordic genes, is likely the equivalent of a regular person going on his knees and bellowing in pain.

“Sadie. Isn’t that the reason?” His eyes bore into mine. I press my palm against my mouth and slowly shake my head.

“And I’ve been scared, scared like never before, that I’d hurt you.” He lifts his hand. Curves it around my cheek. “That I’d left you in some—any kind of pain. That I couldn’t make amends. Which, let me tell you, is no fun when you know in your lizard brain that you’re about five minutes from falling in love with someone.”

I fucked up. I just . . . I fucked up. And now I have to live with the knowledge of it. I have to go on in a world in which no man will ever compare to Erik Nowak. No man will ever make me laugh, and make my body sing, and make my soul absolutely indignant with his outrageous opinions on Galatasaray—all at once.

“Sadie, I know you like this guy a lot. I know that if he does decide that he doesn’t want you in his life it’s going to hurt, and that you’re tempted to preemptively pull back to protect yourself. But if you don’t at least give him a chance to choose you, you’ll lose him for sure.”

“You’re right,” I say. “You’re so right. I should go to him.” Hannah smiles. “Well, it’s actually what, one a.m. in New York? I was thinking more of a phone call tomorrow morning. Around ten.” “Yes. I should go to him right now.” “That’s the exact opposite of—” “I gotta go. Love you.”

I was coming to you, I open my mouth to say. I was on my way to tell you many, many confusing things. But the surprise of seeing him here has frozen my bravery, and instead of flooding him with the impassioned speech I would have typed on my Notes app in the Uber, I just stare. Silent.

I adore it. I love it. My hand wants to slip inside this pocket on rainy fall afternoons and chilly spring mornings. My hand wants to move in and just live here, right next to Erik’s.

“I only knew you for twenty-four hours, but I’ve never missed anyone so much.”

“I hate you,” I repeat. “I hate you so, so much.” “Nah.” When I open my eyes, Erik’s smile is warm and soft. “I don’t think you do, Sadie.”