Perfekt Order (The Ære Saga Book 1) (12 page)

My eyes darted to Tyr as he finally
unclenched his fists. He gave me a look that lingered a second
longer than absolutely necessary, and held more than a hint of
sadness. What did he have to be sad about? The corners of his eyes
turned down and his gaze softened, earning a familiar tug from my
traitorous heartstrings. The look in his eyes told me more than the
sum of all our previous conversations, making it clear my illogical
Tyr infatuation wasn’t entirely one-sided.
I knew it!
But as
quickly as the change came over Tyr, it was gone. In one swift
movement he turned on his heel and walked away. “
God natt
,
girls.” He threw the words over his shoulder.

“Ni-ight!” Brynn sang back.

Tyr sauntered away with the confidence of a
seasoned athlete, as I once again tried not to stare at his
unnaturally glorious backside. It was an absolute thing of
beauty.

And it was completely out of my reach.

****

“Mia, you’re the organizational whiz, right?”
Henrik stood behind a lab table in a white coat. He had a tray of
neatly organized metal parts on his right. The skeleton of the
robotic arm stood on a pedestal to his left, and an intricate
diagram outlining the design of the machine was taped to the white
board.

“Depends on who you ask.” I uncapped my
pen.

“Brynn says yes, so I want you helping me
test the metal bits for the device. Brynn, I want you to play with
the algorithm on the board. Learn it. Love it. Make it your friend.
Mia, these are all yours.” Henrik held up a small bolt. Behind his
glasses, his eyes were bright—he looked like a kid who’d just
discovered he’d been locked in a candy shop overnight.

“Aye aye.” Brynn saluted. She grabbed her
notebook and started scribbling.

Meanwhile, I dragged a stool over to Henrik’s
table and started examining nuts and bolts. “What do you need,
Captain?”

“I like that.” Henrik scratched his chin.
“Yep, you ladies can call me that from now on.”

“I think it was a one-time deal.” I picked up
a screw and held it between my fingers. My French tips looked
dangerously close to fading—better ask Charlotte to touch them
up.

“Well, the option’s out there—feel free to
call me Captain. Or Cappy. Whichever feels right to you.”

“Did you have a job for me or not?”

“Right. So I’m toying with mobility this
week. Which size parts will allow for the highest degree of
flexibility and the lowest amount of resistance? Got it?” Henrik
picked up a pair of tweezers and turned to the arm.

“You want it flexible and pliant, solid but
light—stable, more or less?”

“Yes. And it’s just about mechanics at this
phase; the electrodes come next.”

“It’ll be one of the first prostheses that
don’t require manual operation—are you working from a pre-existing
model or developing new technology?” I asked.

“It’s… new technology,” Henrik paused.
“Microelectrodes will allow it to read brainwaves.”

“How is that possible?” I stared.

“Implant them in the left motor cortex,
connect them to the arm via a computer, and the computer—”

“The computer runs the algorithm that
translates the signal the brain sends to the arm,” I interrupted.
“Henrik, that’s brilliant!”

“Thank you. Tell a friend. Now get to work on
some configurations based on that diagram.” Henrik pointed to the
board. “The parts in the bin are sorted by size and mass, so if you
set them up the way Diagram B suggests, I can plug them in for
trials.”

“Sounds good.” I examined the diagram
closely, then set to work choosing the pieces I’d need to make the
smallest configuration.

“Did you come up with a name for it yet?”
Brynn looked up from her notebook.

“As a matter of fact, I did.” Henrik lowered
his glasses down the bridge of his nose and peered over the top.
“Ladies, I’d like you to meet Fred.”

“Aw!” Brynn’s dimple popped. “That’s
perfect!”

“You named the arm Fred?” I asked.

“I happen to like that name. You have a
problem with it?” A small
V
formed between Henrik’s brows,
and his glasses slipped down a quarter inch.

“Not at all. Very traditional name.” I bit my
cheek so I couldn’t laugh.

“Fred was his childhood dog,” Brynn
explained. “He was a Malamute,
ja
?”

“
Ja,
” Henrik confirmed. “Best friend I
ever had.”

“What am I? Chopped lutefisk?” Brynn stuck
out her tongue.

“Oh,
sötnos
. Don’t be jealous.”

“You guys are going to have to teach me
Swedish.” I chuckled. “What’s it like there, anyway?”

“In Sweden?” Henrik stared intently at the
arm. “It’s nice. Good hiking, you’d love the skiing, and there are
lots of outdoorsy things to do. Tyr and I have a little lake cabin
outside Malmö we use for fishing trips.”

“I’ll bet it’s beautiful. Have you been to
their cabin, Brynn?” I picked up the pliers and tightened a
bolt.

“
Boys only
, blah, blah, blah.” She
glared at Henrik. “You guys let Gunnar go with you but not me?”

“He’s an expert fisherman, can shoot an
animal at a hundred yards with a crossbow, and knows how to gut and
grill a reindeer. Sorry,
sötnos
, no chicks allowed.”

“Whatever, Henrik,” Brynn huffed.

“You wouldn’t like it anyway. No cell
reception. No Internet in that part of the realm. You know
that.”

“Realm?” There was that word again. First Tyr
used it, then Henrik. Weird translation? “You mean country?”

“Hmm? Right. Country. It’s too remote for
Internet service. No towers. Nothing.” Henrik’s eyes glazed for a
second before zeroing in on Brynn. “We don’t even have a TV,
Brynnie. How would you watch your
Project Runway
reruns?”

“No Internet?” Brynn dropped her pen in mock
horror. “No television? However do you survive?”

“Every once in a while a man needs to
unplug.” Henrik swung the arm around; his Fred now had a solid
range of motion.

“Not me,” Brynn muttered.

“Do you and Tyr go to the cabin a lot?” I
kept my eyes on my work.

“I go a fair amount. Tyr, not so much.”

“Why not?”

“He’s a pretty busy guy, Mia.” Henrik seemed
to choose his words carefully. “He doesn’t get a lot of free
time.”

“He’s not doing anything now,” I pointed out.
“He’s not enrolled here, and he’s not working.”

“Oh, he’s working. He’s just not doing the
kind of job you’re going to see.” Henrik paused.

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“It means that Tyr’s a complicated guy.”

“I figured that much,” I muttered. If Tyr’s
stereo silence up until last night hadn’t clued me in to his
issues, his general hot-and-cold attitude surely would have.

“Don’t be like that.” Henrik leaned on his
forearms. “Tyr’s complicated, yes. But he’s loyal. And honest. And
incredibly protective of the people in his life. Once you hit his
inner circle, you’re locked in for the rest of your existence.
Stick it out, Mia. He’s worth getting to know.”

My neck grew hot, and I ducked behind my
hair. What made him think I wanted to get to know Tyr?

“It’s totally obvious you guys like each
other,” Brynn offered by way of explanation. “You couldn’t stop
staring at each other last night.”

“Yeah. Well, he could have called me if he
wanted to.” I sighed. “Guess I wasn’t a great running partner.”

“Trust me, Tyr would love to spend more time
with you. He’s just been busy. Freya’s in town, and—ouch!” Henrik
rubbed his shoulder and glared at Brynn. “Why’d you throw a bolt at
me?”

“Because you are unusually dense, you
nitwit.” Brynn glared back.

“Freya? Right. Friend of his?” My fake-casual
tone fooled no one. She must have been the strawberry-blonde
Charlotte saw out with Tyr.

“Yes, Henrik. Explain Freya.” Brynn shot
eyeball-daggers.

“Oh. Uh, Freya’s Tyr’s best friend. She’s
from where we live.” Henrik tapped his finger on the tabletop.

“They’re best friends?” The fake-casual tone
went up an octave.

“
Ja
. They’ve been friends forever. Do
everything together. Kind of irritating, really. Ouch!” Henrik
rubbed his other shoulder and glared at Brynn. “Enough!”

“Freya and Tyr really are just friends, Mia.
There’s nothing there.” Brynn probably thought she sounded
comforting.

She didn’t.

“Yeah, he mentioned her once.” I nodded, then
I blurted out the thought pounding in my head. “Freya’s the
redhead, right?”

Brynn launched icy beams at Henrik, but he
was oblivious to her stare. “Yeah. Long hair, about six-feet tall,
legs for days. Total
baben
.”

Baben
had an obvious enough
translation.

“Gods, you are so stupid!” Brynn
exploded.

Henrik looked at my flat expression and
quickly backtracked. “Not that Tyr’s ever seen her like that.
Honest, Mia. She’s like a sister to him.”

“So the total
baben
has been in town
how long?” I squeaked.

“Three weeks.” Henrik shrugged.

Three weeks. She’d shown up, Tyr had run with
me one last time, and then he’d all but disappeared.

“Fan-freaking-tastic,” I muttered.

“Don’t write him off, Mia. Freya’s not what
she sounds like.” Brynn tried to reassure me.

“I’m sure she isn’t,” I grumbled. The pieces
were coming together, and the picture they were forming didn’t look
so great for me.

Not that I cared, one way or the other. I had
way more important things to think about than some guy.

****

Thursday was my night to cook, so I headed to
the grocery store after we’d finished up in the lab, intent on
making a dinner so amazing I’d be forced to forget about Tyr and
the
baben
—at least for a couple of hours. Since I hadn’t
talked to my brother in almost a week I called Jason on the way,
clicking over to speaker when he answered.

“Well, if it isn’t the brains of the family.”
Jason’s smile came through the phone.

“Hey, Jase. How’s that big ivory tower?”

“Studying hard. What about Math Club? You
guys getting into trouble?” Jason chuckled.

“You know it.”

“What’s going on with that dude you mentioned
a while back?” Jason had a memory like a steel trap. Leave it to
him to bring up the one thing I
didn’t
want to talk
about.

“Oh, Tyr. Things didn’t work out with him.” I
tried to keep the hurt out of my voice.

Jason put off the appropriate amount of
indignation. “I’ll come beat the crap out of him if you want me
to.”

“Thanks, Jase, but I’m okay. Onward and
upward, right?”

“Hey, that’s my line.”

“I get all my best lines from you,” I teased.
“Hey, I’m about to run into the store. I just wanted to say hi.
Miss you, big brother.”

“I miss you too. Say hi to the trees for
me.”

“Will do. Give Mom and Dad hugs when you see
them this weekend.” I pulled into a parking space.

“Deal. And Mees?” Jason added.

“Mmm?”

“Don’t stress about the loser. You’re smart
and cute and a pretty cool chick. The right guy will come
along.”

“Thanks, J.” Sometimes he could be so
sweet.

“But say the word and I’ll kick his butt.
Later, Mia.” Jason signed off.

I hummed to myself as I walked into the
store, my heels clicking on the linoleum. Jason always knew how to
make me smile. I grabbed a hand basket and made my way through the
vegetable aisle until I found the first item on my shopping list.
My hand was halfway to the asparagus when I heard the familiar
voice.

“
Hei
, Mia.”

I turned on one heel and came face-to-chest
with Tyr. He wore slender-cut jeans with his black leather jacket,
and his characteristic half-smile tugged at one corner of his
mouth.

My heart thudded to a standstill.

“You’re everywhere.”

“It’s starting to seem that way.” He didn’t
look any happier about it than I felt.

“Sure is. Well, see you.” I threw a cluster
of asparagus in my hand basket and walked away.

“Are you mad at me?”

Seriously?

Tyr followed me down the aisle, where I
grabbed two packages of capellini, a jar of chicken stock, and
marsala cooking wine.

“Nope.” I pasted on my finest fake smile and
scooted down the next aisle. I threw basil, oregano, and seasoned
sea salt into my basket, and held my smile until my jaw twitched as
I strode toward the self check-out.
Play it cool. You’ll be out
of here before you know it.

Tyr furrowed his brow. “You’re acting
strange.”

“Just in a rush. It’s my night to cook
dinner.”

Tyr stood at the station next to me and
scanned his groceries. Three frozen pizzas and a bottle of
dishwasher soap… not that I was watching. When he was finished, he
pulled a black AmEx out of his wallet and swiped it.

“Is that a—”

He tucked the card back in his wallet before
I could finish. “Want me to carry your bag?” he offered.

“What? Uh, no. Thanks.” I hurried out of the
store in clipped strides. Tyr followed. Of course, his motorcycle
was parked two spots over from my Audi. He really was
everywhere.

“Mia, wait,” he called as I threw my bag and
my purse into my car.

“Sorry, I’ve got to go. Dinner.” I slammed
the door closed with a tight wave and peeled out of the parking
lot. This was
so
uncomfortable. I might have been naïve
about boys, but I knew enough to figure out I was barking up the
wrong tree when it came to this one.

FROM MY ROADSIDE PRISON,
I channeled
every ounce of decorum my mother had drilled into me and
didn’t
scream. But I wanted to. Stupid deer. If it hadn’t
jumped in front of my car, I wouldn’t have swerved and hit that
pothole. And if I hadn’t hit that pothole, I wouldn’t have blown a
tire. Again. Now I was stuck on the dirt shoulder, with a bag of
groceries that might not make it home in time to fulfill their
destiny as tonight’s mind-blowing supper.