From the corner of my eye, I saw her pressing close—her chest nearly brushing Arthur’s arm, her delicate face tilted up with feigned innocence.
Arthur leaned slightly away, putting a hand’s width of space between them. “You can look,” he said with a small cough, “but don’t touch.”
But his ears were flushed red. Even his breathing quickened.
I inserted the final reagent into the centrifuge and said flatly, “This is a lab, not a date spot. Could you two take this somewhere else?”
Loren pouted. “Sister, are you mad again?”
Before I could answer, a sharp alarm pierced the air—Beep!
I turned just in time to see the culture dish wobble precariously. Loren had nudged the workstation, and a line of liquid now oozed out, giving off a foul, acrid stench that spread instantly.
“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” I asked, jaw clenched.
“I-I just wanted a better look,” she stammered, snatching her hand back and turning to Arthur, eyes glistening. “I didn’t mean to! I’m sorry…”
“Get out!” I snapped, retrieving a fresh pair of gloves and the cleaning kit from the disinfectant cabinet. “This is a laboratory, not your stage performance!”