Wyatt was in trouble.
Right All Along
Wyatt
Wyatt suppresseda grin at the audible gasps and awe-filled sounds coming from the small group of undergrads that had followed Mia into the hub.
His eyes met Mia’s and they exchanged an amused glance as she led the half-dozen prospective future DPhil students to the common area, ushering them to the sofas that were pre-arranged in a semi-circle.
Once they were seated, Mia came to stand next to Wyatt.
“Welcome to the Social Genomics Science hub,” she started, turning to look at Wyatt with a professionally amicable smile. “This is Doctor Wyatt Jenkins, head of the hub, and he’ll answer some of your questions before you continue the tour with one of our DPhil researchers.”
“Thank you, Doctor Bissonnette.” Wyatt returned her courteous smile and nodded when she pulled out her vibrating phone and signed that she had to take the call. It was an act they’d perfected since getting involved, being mildly polite towards one another while on campus.
The pretense was a huge turn-on. By the time they’d get home they had an entire day of buildup burning through their veins. Even now,evenwhile he was telling the grads about the future of sociogenomics and the opportunities it presented in helping underprivileged and underrepresented groups, the unanswered itch to touch Mia was prickling at his fingertips.
Denialwasone of Wyatt’s favorite games, after all, and practicing his self-restraint under conditions of extreme temptation was proving the best version of denial he’d ever experienced. The fact that Mia made a point of pushing all his buttons made it all the better.
“And those are just a few examples of the research we conduct at the hub,” Wyatt concluded his well-rehearsed speech, gesturing at the small group of wide-eyed post-teens. “Any questions?”
A multitude of hands shot up, and Wyatt pointed at a girl with big, round glasses and dark hair.
“Are youreallyProfessor Brian Jenkins’ son?” The entire room hushed at her question, staring at him expectantly. Wyatt felt burning heat rise from his chest and spread through his limbs.
He forced a smile, tucking his hands into his pockets. “I am.”
Another hand, this time a boy who didn’t wait for Wyatt to give him the go-ahead. “Are you planning any joint projects with him?”
“Social genomics isn’t really his field of choice,” Wyatt answered with entirely fake amusement. “You’d know that if you’d read his research.”
People around the boy snickered as he turned beet red and looked away.
“How has he influencedyourchoice of field, Doctor Jenkins?” a different boy asked, which Wyatt guessed was a fair question.
“My father always instilled the notion that we should use science to change the world for the better. Social genomics is where I felt I could have the largest contribution in that aspect.” There was a murmur of approval from the small crowd. “Ask me how.”
Even more hands than before were raised, and although he was apprehensive, the rest of the questions were on-point to the tour. Wyatt made a few notes on the students who showed most potential before giving Giles the signal to cut him loose.
“Thank you for those wonderful questions,” Giles said with a bright smile, coming to stand next to Wyatt. “I’m Ron Giles, the most promising DPhil here in the hub.” There was a collective chuckle. “I’ll be taking you on a short tour of the labs and answer all the questions you were too scared to ask the bosses.”
This time everyone laughed loudly, a spring in their step as they followed Giles, allowing Wyatt to slip away to Mia’s office.
He could hear Mia speaking French through the partially open door. Her tone was almost business-like though he detected a strained edge to it. It was the first time he’d heard Mia speak fluently in her mother-tongue. Even when he addressed her in French, she’d answer in English. Wyatt was even more curious about the reason than before.
He knocked on the door and walked in, closing it behind him. Mia shot him a wary gaze from her seat on the couch and wrapped up her call.
“That went well,” Mia said, as Wyatt came to sit on the couch next to her.
“For the most part,” Wyatt agreed. “Who were you speaking to?”
“Why is that your business?”
“It isn’t.” Wyatt shrugged. “I’m just curious since I’ve never heard you use French unless it was to swear, mostly at me.”
“I was speaking to my mother,” Mia answered with a wry tone, signaling the subject was not open for discussion. “What part of the tour didn’t go well?”
“The questions.” Wyatt grimaced. “They seemed more interested in my dad than the hub until I managed to steer them back to the subject.”