The first check-in with Dr. Genet

Samantha woke to sunlight streaming through the bedroom curtains and the unfamiliar weight of another person's presence beside her. For a disorienting moment she couldn't remember where she was or who was in her bed, and then everything from the previous day rushed back—Harry's arrival, the awkward dinner, the kiss, her **** release on the living room sofa. Her face flushed hot at the memory even as her body stirred with renewed interest, and she turned her head on the pillow to look at the man sleeping inches away from her.

Harry was still on his side, one hand tucked under his pillow, his face relaxed in sleep. His light brown hair stuck up at odd angles, and there was a slight crease on his cheek from the pillowcase. He looked younger like this, **** in a way that made Samantha's chest feel tight. She resisted the urge to reach out and touch him, to trace the line of his jaw or smooth down his messy hair. Instead she just watched him breathe, cataloging details she hadn't noticed yesterday—a small scar above his right eyebrow, the way his eyelashes were darker than his hair, the steady pulse visible at his throat.

Her bladder eventually **** her out of bed, and she slipped from under the covers as carefully as possible, trying not to wake him. The apartment was cool and quiet, morning light making everything look softer and more forgiving than it had the night before. Samantha padded down the hallway to the bathroom, her bare feet silent on the hardwood floor.

When she emerged, she could hear movement from the bedroom—the creak of the mattress, a jaw-cracking yawn, Harry's footsteps crossing the floor. Samantha busied herself in the kitchen, filling the coffee maker with water and grounds, trying to look casual and domestic rather than like someone who'd spent half the night masturbating while thinking about her new... whatever he was? Roommate? Boyfriend?

"Morning," Harry said from the kitchen doorway, his voice rough with sleep. He was wearing the same boxer briefs from last night and a simple t-shirt he must have just thrown on, and his hair was even more disheveled than it had been in bed. "Is that coffee I smell?"

"Yeah, just started brewing," Samantha replied, turning to face him. "I didn't know how you take it so I just made it black. There's milk and sugar if you want."

"Black's perfect," Harry said, moving into the kitchen space. They did an awkward little dance as they both reached for the same cabinet at the same time, their bodies colliding briefly before Harry stepped back with a laugh. "Sorry, still learning the layout."

"It's fine," Samantha said, grabbing two mugs and setting them on the counter. "We'll figure it out. The dance of the kitchen, or whatever."

The coffee maker gurgled and hissed, filling the silence between them. Samantha became acutely aware that she was wearing only her simple cotton nightgown, that Harry could probably see the outline of her body through the thin fabric. Her nipples tightened reflexively, and she crossed her arms over her chest in a gesture that was supposed to look casual but probably just drew more attention to them.

"So," Harry said, leaning against the counter opposite her. "Dr. Genet's call is at ten, yeah?"

"Ten AM," Samantha confirmed, glancing at the microwave clock. "Which gives us about forty-five minutes. I should probably change into something more—"

"You look fine," Harry interrupted, then immediately looked embarrassed. "I mean, you don't need to get dressed up for a Zoom call. He's seen worse, I'm sure."

The coffee maker beeped, and Samantha busied herself pouring two cups, grateful for something to do with her hands. She passed one to Harry, and their fingers brushed in the exchange. That same electric sensation shot through her, and she saw Harry's jaw clench in response.

They stood there in the kitchen drinking their coffee, not quite looking at each other but acutely aware of the other's presence. Samantha's mind kept drifting back to their kiss last night—the taste of his mouth, the way his hand had felt on her hip, how natural it had been to thread her fingers through his hair. Her body wanted more of that, wanted to close the distance between them and pick up where they'd left off.

But the kitchen clock was ticking toward ten, and they needed to be at least somewhat professional for Dr. Genet's call.

"We should probably set up the laptop," Samantha suggested, finishing her coffee and rinsing the mug in the sink. "Make sure the camera and everything works before he calls."

They migrated to the small dining table with fresh cups of coffee, and Samantha opened her laptop while Harry pulled his chair around to sit beside her. The proximity was both comfortable and charged—their shoulders brushing, his coffee mug next to hers, the shared screen showing their video preview where they looked rumpled and domestic in their pajamas.

"We look like an actual couple," Harry observed quietly.

"We are... kinda?" Samantha replied. "I mean, well you know what I mean."

Before Harry could respond, the laptop chimed with an incoming call. Dr. Genet's name appeared on the screen, and Samantha clicked accept before she could second-guess herself.

Dr. Genet materialized on their screen looking exactly as clinical and intense as he had in Paris. His mismatched eyes—one blue, one green—studied them through his frameless glasses, and behind him Samantha could see walls covered in genetic charts, DNA models, and what looked like some kind of sequencing equipment. He was wearing a white lab coat over a button-down shirt, and his prematurely graying hair was slightly disheveled like he'd been running his hands through it.

"Mr. Thornton, Ms. Brooks," Dr. Genet greeted them with his characteristic clipped precision. "Good morning. I trust you're settling in well?"

"Yeah, good," Harry said, his hand finding Samantha's under the table and squeezing gently. "Still adjusting, but good."

"Excellent," Dr. Genet said, pulling up what looked like a complex data chart on a second monitor beside him. "I wanted to discuss your first day's observations, but more importantly, I need to brief you on a theoretical phenomenon that may manifest given your unprecedented genetic compatibility."

Samantha felt Harry's grip on her hand tighten, and she squeezed back. "What kind of phenomenon?"

Dr. Genet's fingers flew across his keyboard, pulling up additional screens. "I call it Genetic Sync. In twenty-three years of research, I've never seen compatibility scores like yours—one hundred percent across every marker we test for. This suggests your DNA isn't just compatible, it's complementary in ways that may produce observable effects."

"What kind of effects?" Harry asked, leaning forward slightly.

"That's where the theoretical aspect comes in," Dr. Genet admitted, and Samantha noticed he looked nervous—an unusual expression for the normally composed scientist. "Sync, if it occurs, would manifest as a moment of dissociation when you're together. A suspended moment in time where your biological systems align completely. Heartbeat, breathing, neural patterns—everything synchronizing on a cellular level."

Samantha's brain struggled to process what he was saying. "And then what happens?"

"I honestly don't know," Dr. Genet said, and the admission seemed to cost him. "That's why I need you to report any unusual experiences. Moments where time seems to stop or slow down. Instances where you feel unusually connected beyond normal romantic attachment. Physical sensations you can't explain."

"You're saying our DNA might make us experience... what, exactly?" Harry asked, and Samantha could hear the edge of worry in his voice.

"Full synchronization," Dr. Genet replied. "Your bodies becoming attuned to each other in ways that transcend normal human connection. But the practical implications remain unknown because this level of compatibility has never been documented before. You're quite literally my first case study."

The weight of that statement settled over them. They were guinea pigs in an experiment with no predetermined outcome, two people whose genetic match was so rare that science had no framework for understanding what might happen to them.

"So we just... report if anything weird happens?" Samantha asked, trying to sound more confident than she felt.

"Precisely," Dr. Genet confirmed. "Any anomalous experiences, particularly during moments of intimacy or heightened emotion. Keep detailed notes if possible. And please, don't be alarmed if Sync does occur—it's a natural response to your genetic compatibility, not something dangerous."

"How can you know it's not dangerous if you've never seen it happen?" Harry challenged.

Dr. Genet adjusted his glasses, a gesture Samantha was starting to recognize as a nervous tell. "Fair point, Mr. Thornton. I suppose I should say I have no theoretical reason to believe it would be harmful. Your bodies are designed to work together. Sync would simply be the full expression of that design."

They talked for a few more minutes about logistics—weekly reports, compensation schedules, privacy protocols—but Samantha's mind was spinning with the implications of what Dr. Genet had described. A moment of suspended time. Complete biological synchronization. Her body attuned to Harry's on a cellular level.

The call ended with Dr. Genet's usual clinical efficiency, and suddenly they were alone again in their kitchen, the laptop screen dark, morning sunlight streaming through the windows. Samantha became aware that Harry's hand was still holding hers under the table, his palm warm and slightly sweaty against her skin.

"That was intense," Harry said finally, his thumb stroking across her knuckles.

"Yeah," Samantha agreed. "Do you think it'll actually happen? The Sync thing?"

"I don't know," Harry admitted. "But we're already weird enough without adding time-stopping genetic phenomena to the mix."

That made Samantha laugh, the tension breaking slightly. She turned to look at him, really look at him, and found his hazel eyes already studying her face. They were close enough that she could see the flecks of green in his irises, could count his eyelashes if she wanted to.