The hallway is quiet and empty. I head toward the elevator, but I’m not sure where to go after that. Maybe I can find an empty office where I can browse someone’s computer or riffle through their file cabinet. My plan sucks, but I can’t just wait around doing nothing anymore.

At the end of the hallway, I hear male voices. I jerk to a halt and try to peer around the corner without getting caught. Two men in lab coats stand outside one of the exam rooms. Dr. Kapur and Dr. Walters.

“How do you know it won’t happen again?” Dr. Walters asks.

“It won’t. These kids are young enough.”

“What if they’re not?”

There’s a pause. I flatten myself against the wall, trying not to breathe. What are they talking about? What are they worried will happen again? And what did they mean by young enough?

“Then we’ll have to go younger,” Dr. Kapur says.

“Younger? It was hard enough getting five eighteen-year-olds. We can’t get anyone younger! And if we do, they won’t be able to bring back the kind of data we need!”

“It doesn’t matter,” Dr. Kapur continues. “It won’t happen this time.”

They’re talking about us. Does that mean there were other times?

“I hope you’re right,” Dr. Walters says with a sigh.

“I’ve done the analysis and run the tests multiple times. We won’t have any problems,” Dr. Kapur says. I hear movement, the sound of clothes rustling. “It’s almost time. We need to get to the accelerator.”

“Yes, Lynne is waiting, and I need to check the calibrations before we start.”

Padded steps come toward me and I bolt down the hall, tracing my steps back to my exam room. They’re about to turn the corner. I won’t make it in time.

I knock on the nearest door and it opens—Adam! He looks surprised, but I push him back into his room before he can speak. The door shuts behind us with a soft click.

“Elena, what—”

I cover his mouth with one hand and listen. My other hand grips his arm, holding him in place. Adam stares at me with wide eyes, but he doesn’t move and doesn’t speak. I count the seconds in my head. One minute. Two.

When the danger has passed, I realize how close we are. Our bodies are pressed together and my hands touch his lips, his bare arm. He isn’t wearing a shirt and his chest is toned, with a trace of dark hair trailing into his jeans. The heat of his skin burns through my thin shirt, and his eyes never leave mine. He’s only a few inches taller than me, the perfect height for a kiss.