“You okay?” asked Sven. He stirred his drink and smiled at Ingrid.
She sat, cross-armed, eyeing him like a potential mugger.
“It’s just coffee, relax.”
“I have things to do,” she huffed.
And she did–she had very important lab samples to run. This was inconvenient. She thought herself immune to frivolous things like human feelings. But here she was: stricken.
Her body was betraying her, drugging her with hormones.
“I think I love you,” she shouted.
When he smiled, her eyes narrowed. “I’m not happy about it.”