A knock rang through the office door.
Dr. Nance looked up from his desk, setting aside the papers he'd been reviewing. Before he could respond, the door cracked open, and Sally stepped inside, her clipboard held against her chest.
"Dr. Nance, your 10 am is here--Miss Nguyen," she announced.
"Thank you, Sally. Show her in."
Sally stepped aside, and Grace strode into the room, the brisk clicks of her heels filling the room with her presence. Dr. Nance's smile widened, his gaze lingering on her figure before it found her face.
"Miss Nguyen," he said, rising from his chair and extending a hand. "Pleased to meet you."
Grace smiled and shook his hand, her grip soft yet confident, like that of a dancer meeting her partner's lead. "Pleasure to meet you, Dr. Nance."
"Please, have a seat," he said, gesturing to one of the chairs across his desk.
Grace smoothed her black pencil skirt as she lowered herself onto the leather chair, the hem riding up well past her knees. The sight drew Dr. Nance's notice, remaining there as he settled into his seat. Opening the folder on his desk, his attention shifted to her face, finding soft features tinted with impenetrable determination.
"Miss Nguyen," he began, watching her fingers tug at the hem of her skirt, "I've reviewed your application, and as far as grades and scores go, I'm impressed."
"Thank you, Dr. Nance," said Grace, pressing her knees together, her stocking-clad legs rubbing faintly against one another. "I'm sure you'll find my other qualities just as..." She paused, lifting a leg and crossing it over her thigh, the hem pulling back to reveal more. "...impressive."
He pressed his lips together before continuing. "So, tell me, what unique qualities do you believe you'd bring to Harvard Medical School?"
She leaned back, placing her hands on her knee, her fingers tracing a message on it. "Last summer, I interned at Columbia Presbyterian," she began. "I spent my days working in the ER, assisting with triage and patient stabilization, and my nights in the nanotechnology biotech lab. It was..." She paused, her fingers pressing into her knee, her eyes dropping to search for the right word before rising to meet his. "Intense."
"So," he began, pausing as her leg uncrossed, the sharp click of her heel striking the floor. "You're familiar with the grind of residency work, it seems?"
"Yes, absolutely," she replied, crossing her other leg. This time, the motion offered Dr. Nance a flash of white, leaving him visibly flustered. "In fact, I've always believed the longer shifts taught us how to push our limits. There's something satisfying about working through exhaustion and still delivering results."
She slipped off her glasses, her fingers brushing the frames. "It builds character, don't you think?" she asked, tucking them into her purse. Her lashes dipped briefly before her eyes lifted to meet his.
"Yes... um...absolutely," he said, the pen in his hand bending under the pressure of his grip.
"So anyway, there was this one day I showed up completely exhausted after working late into the night with the lab director on a technically challenging metabolic engineering procedure," she said, her hands spreading wide, pressing into the air as though holding a giant beachball. "My hair was a mess," she added, uncrossing her legs and ruffling her hair with mock frustration. "Like this--this is what it looked like," she said, shooting him a pointed look. "See?"
"I see, and..."
She cut him off with a quick wave of her hand. "So I was, like, horrified when I saw myself in the mirror. I looked like I'd just been through the roughest night of my life," she said, giggling. "But in that reflection, despite--or maybe because of--the exhaustion, a thought popped into my head," she continued, clapping her hands together. "It was, like, so fucking illuminating!"
Dr. Nance shifted in his seat, one hand slipping under the desk as he adjusted his posture. His jaw tightened as he kept his eyes locked on her, trying to focus.
"So I stood there, staring at my mess, and thought of something," she said, gathering her hair into her hands. Her arms lifted, twisting her hair into a bun on top of her head. The motion pulled her chest up, the curve of her breasts now framed by her raised elbows. "Dr. Nance, tell me--what do you see?"
"I see... umm," he said, his voice cracking as his eyes darted between her face and the taut fabric of her blouse.
"What you should see is a protein folding," she said, gesturing with her bun. "Proteins start out messy, like chaotic strings of amino acids. But when they fold, they become structured, purposeful, functional." She paused, twirling her head in slow circles as her fingers twisted her bun, as if folding the protein herself. "But if they fold wrong, it's a disaster. Alzheimer's. Parkinson's. All because of a misfolded protein."
She released her arms, letting her hair tumble back down over her shoulders. "That's when it hit me," she said, smacking her palm on her forehead. "The key isn't perfect structure, it's flexibility," she continued, her voice softening as she arched her back, her hands pressing into her thighs. "Life is messy, Dr. Nance. And molecular engineering has to work with the mess... not against it."
He cleared his throat, his grip on the pen loosening as he leaned forward. "You're right," he said, his voice steadier now. "Medicine, molecules... they are messy. Biology rarely gives us clean solutions." He paused as she crossed her leg again, her shoe dangling from her toes. "So, Miss Nguyen," he said, the tap of her shoe dropping onto the floor, shaking his focus. "How did you, um, resolve the messy protein problem?
Grace glanced down at the shoe lying on the floor as she shifted in her chair. "I'm afraid I can't share the exact details of how we solved the problem," she said, flexing her stocking-clad toes and then brushing them slowly up her calf. "You know, confidentiality and all that," she added with a shrug.
Her toes traced down her calf. "But I can tell you this much, it wasn't easy," she said, her toe nudging the other shoe off her foot. Dr. Nance twitched at the soft taps of the shoe rolling on the floor.
"The real challenge," she continued, folding both legs onto the chair into a cross-legged position, "was dealing with the instability. The protein kept shifting, refusing to hold its shape, almost like it needed reassurance before it could settle." She bit her lower lip as she watched him nod, his eyes entranced.
"And that's the thing about messy problems, isn't it, Dr. Nance? They don't respond to brute force," she chirped on, pounding her fist into her palm, startling Dr. Nance out of his trance. "You have to understand the underlying dynamics, coax them into alignment, work with their tendencies instead of against them. It's a delicate process." She unfolded her legs, bending over to slip her shoes back on. Straightening, she met his glazed eyes with a wisp of a smile. "Would you like me to walk you through the theory behind it?"
He cleared his throat. "Yes, I'd appreciate that. Walk me through the theory."
Grace's smile widened, her heels tapping with excitement on the floor. "Great, let's dive in," she said, rising from her chair. His eyes followed her crisp stride as she made her way to the whiteboard.
She picked up a marker and began writing with confident strokes, equations and chemical structures flowing from her hand. "You see, Dr. Nance, the key to stabilizing the protein is understanding its binding affinity," she explained, her hand resting on her hip.
Her skirt rode up as she reached up to write on the higher part of the board. "The binding sites," Grace continued, tapping the board with the marker, "are like the perfect dance partners. They need to fit just right, to hold on tight without being too clingy." She glanced over her shoulder, catching his eyes lingering where they shouldn't. "Are you following, Dr. Nance?"
"Yes, yes, the binding sites," he stammered, his hand reaching for something under the desk. "They need to be, uh, compatible."
"Exactly," Grace said, turning back to the board. "It's all about the right chemistry. You need to coax the molecules into the right position, much like seducing them into place." She bent over to write another equation near the bottom of the board. "And this is what it looks like, algebraically."
The hem of her skirt lifted high enough to reveal the lace tops of her stockings. "Seducing them into place," he repeated, trying to focus on the equation instead of what he was staring at. "That's quite the... technique."
She straightened up, turning to face him. "It's all about finesse, Dr. Nance. You have to be gentle yet firm, guiding them with a steady hand." She paused, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her fingers lingering for just a moment before adding, "Just like in any good relationship."
He chuckled nervously. "I see. So, it's about finding the right balance?" He had no idea what he was saying anymore.
