Read Lucy Wagner Gets In Shape (A Romantic Comedy) Online
Authors: Claire Matthews
Lucy Wagner Gets In Shape (A Romantic Comedy) (11 page)
“Luce, I’m sorry I opened my big mouth. Just…talk to Will. Whatever it is, you guys can work it out.” He’s being so nice and reasonable--it reminds me that he wasn’t always a dick.
“Thanks, Paul. I’ll call you when I get the inspector’s report.” I lean over to give him a hug, and his arms feel strong and warm around me. I can’t help but remember when things were good between us. Then I feel his hand slide down and cup my ass over thick denim. Right--he’s still a dick.
“Umm, Paul…you need to release my backside.”
I feel him smile against my shoulder. “Luce, I can’t help it. Your backside is looking mighty spectacular since you started working out. Plus, I’m horny.”
I can’t help but laugh at his honesty, even if I’m not the least bit interested in his intentions “Well, you’ve got a shower and a right hand, so I think you’re good to go.” We’re both still grinning, but I’m serious, and he knows it. A car creeps by us in the parking lot, and inexplicably stops a few feet away. What the hell?
Oh, crap.
Crap!
It’s Will.
He’s seen me and Paul hugging. He’s seen Paul cupping my butt in his hand. He’s seen us laughing. I can see his face through the passenger window, and his expression is unreadable. Paul clears his throat and releases my ass from his grasp. Nice.
I give Paul an impatient shove and hurry over to the Jeep. Will rolls down the passenger window, and I peer in cautiously.
“Hey, Guillaume.” Maybe a bit of French will bring a smile to his face.
“Hey.”
Okay, maybe not.
“Paul came over to meet the inspector.” Silence. “He’s just leaving.” Wow, more silence. “What are you doing here?”
“I brought back your bike.” Now I notice my Cannondale, hooked on the rack attached to the tailgate. I also can’t help but notice the bouquet of irises sitting in the passenger seat--my heart skips several beats, but when I look back up at Will, all I see is his back exiting the car.
“Here you go,” he says tightly, unhooking the bike and rolling it around to my side of the Jeep. Thank God Paul has climbed in his car--he drives past with a sheepish wave as I take the handlebars from Will.
“Will…” my voice sounds pleading, but he’s already walking determinedly back to the driver’s seat. I back up and stick my head in the passenger side window. “What are those?” My eyes move to the blue and yellow irises, their sweet fragrance filling the air between us.
“Nothing,” he says quietly, and then he drives away.
Chapter Eleven
Don’t you hate when you cry yourself to sleep, and your hair gets caught in your dried tears and sticks to your cheeks?
Yeah, me too.
It’s Tuesday morning, I’ve had virtually no sleep, and I’m supposed to meet Jen and Will at the track this morning for a training run. The mere thought makes fresh tears spring to my eyes. My feelings sway unsteadily from regret and guilt at the thought of Will’s sad face last night, to anger and pain when I allow the thought of him and Jen,
together
, to creep into my consciousness.
Plus, I really don’t want to run five miles this morning. I pick up my cell and speed-dial Jen.
“What?” Jen’s telephone skills are legendary.
“Hey, I’m sick. You and Will run without me this morning.”
“Too late, faker. Will just called with the same lame excuse. Have you two been swapping germy spit or something?”
“No.” The fact that I don’t take her bait alerts Jen to my bad mood.
“What’s the deal? Did you have a fight?”
I really don’t want to go into the whole Paul-and-me-in-the-parking-lot thing, so I decide to be mad a Jen instead. “If I ask you a question, do you promise to tell me the truth?”
“I’d have to hear the question first. Is it about your boobs? Because I’ll tell you straight up, they aren’t as big as you think they are.”
I’m not amused. “Did you sleep with Will?”
Her pause is long enough to make the bile churn in my stomach.
Oh, my God.
“What?” Jen’s voice is low and hard. I can’t even answer her, because suddenly a combat boot has lodged itself in my throat.
“Don’t move. I’m coming over,” she hisses, and then the line goes dead.
Ten minutes later, I hear the front door open from my spot on the couch. As directed, I haven’t moved, except to rest my head on the sofa cushion and wish my life didn’t suck quite so hard.
“Lucy?”
“In here,” I moan miserably. My head is still buried in the crook of my arm, but I feel the couch shift as Jen sits down next to me. We sit in silence for a moment, until I gather the momentum to sit up.
“What did he tell you?” She must think Will has spilled the beans in a fit of guilt.
“Enough,” I answer cryptically.
Jen sighs and then bites her lower lip. “Listen, Luce. It was my fault. That weekend…I’d just broken up with Greg, remember? You and Paul were going to the football game, and Will ended up at the apartment because his cable was out. We were watching TV, and we drank, like, a ton of beer. I could tell Will was depressed—he always got mopey whenever you and Paul did anything domestic, like buying furniture or painting the condo. Anyway, I managed to convince myself that sleeping together would be good for both of us. It would take his mind off of you, and my mind off of Greg. So…I kind of jumped him. It was all me.”
“Well, you didn’t rape him, did you? I think he must have gone pretty willingly.” I sound whiny and petulant, but I don’t care.
“He was drunk. We were both drunk, Luce. It was stupid, and awkward, and we never did it again. I told him I’d kick him in the junk if he ever spoke of it. I can’t believe he told you.”
“He didn’t—Paul did.”
“
What?”
Jen’s voice is horrified.
“Yeah. I sent Paul back to the apartment that afternoon to get my migraine medicine. He walked in on you guys.” Her look of humiliation gives me a small amount of pleasure.
“Oh, my
God
.” She flops back on the couch and stares morosely at the ceiling. We’re both silent for a moment.
“Luce, I’m really sorry.” She looks really sorry. But I’m not ready to forgive her quite yet.
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”
“What was I supposed to say? ‘Will’s in love with you and I felt bad for him, and I was drunk, and depressed about Greg, so we did it on the couch and then passed out?’”
Well, sure, when she says it like
that
it makes sense not to tell me. There’s another uncomfortable silence. I begin to pick at the nubby fabric of the throw pillow in my lap.
“Does Will know that you know?”
I sigh heavily. “No. I think he’s mad at me.”
“Why?”
“He might have seen me and Paul hugging in the parking lot last night,” I murmur.
“Eww. You and Paul were hugging?”
“Yeah. And his hand might have been on my ass.”
“
Lucy!”
“Oh, shut up, Miss I-Drunk-Humped-Will-and-Never-Told-My-Best-Friend.”
“Jesus, get over it, it was like two years ago.”
Wow, her remorse is short-lived. I continue to stare at the throw pillow wedged between my knees. “So…was he, you know…”
“What?”
I raise my eyebrows.
“Holy shit, Luce. We were wasted. If I remember correctly, it lasted about as long as a bull ride.”
“A whole eight seconds, huh? How come that doesn’t make me feel any better?”
This earns a snicker from Jen. “Don’t worry, I’m sure he improves with sobriety.”
“Well, I may never find out at this point, since he thinks I’m messing around with Paul,” I mutter, still destroying the frayed edge of the defenseless pillow in my lap.
“
Are
you messing around with Paul?”
“God, no! He was hitting on me, like, as a joke. I mean, I think it was a joke. Anyway, I told him hands off, but before he could release the merchandise, Will drove up.”
“So corner Will, preferably between your legs, and explain it to him. He’ll understand.” Jen grabs the pillow from my grasp and props it behind her head.
“I don’t know. He had a big bunch of flowers in the front seat, and he drove off in a huff without even giving them to me.”
“
What?
The princess didn’t get her bouquet?” Jen clutches her chest in mock horror.
“Oh, fuck you.” Like I need this shit.
“Fuck
you
, Lucy. You’ve got a great guy in love with you, and you’re not even willing to fight for him. You’d rather sit here and feel sorry for yourself.”
I know she’s right, so I slap her arm. She slaps me back on the leg, and I swivel around and give her a nice heel in the fleshy part of her hip. She grabs my big toe and twists until I yelp in pain.
We are so mature.
****
Adrian is in my office. Again. He’s not helping the headache that’s been nagging me all week.
“But I didn’t cheat, Ms. Wagner. I swear. You can ask my roommate, he saw me working on that paper for days.” His look of innocence would make Mother Theresa blush with shame. He hikes up his baggy jeans, righteous indignation clouding his dark brown eyes.
“Adrian, you did not write this paper. I’d bet my life on it.”
“Prove it,” he says hotly.
“You used the word ‘cacophony’ in your description of market unrest in Asia.”
“So?”
“What does cacophony mean?” I fix him with my meanest, don’t-bullshit-me stare.
“Well…it has something to do with coughing, obviously…” His eyes shift in a cagey sweep of the bookshelves behind my desk.
“Get out of my office, Adrian. I’m losing my patience.”
“I did
not
cheat on that paper, man.” Adrian exits my office in a cacophony of harsh expletives, and I reach in my desk for two more ibuprofen.
I haven’t seen Will since our unfortunate parking lot encounter three days ago. He left for a conference in Chicago the next day, and the urge to call or text him is like an itch that won’t go away. I haven’t gone more than a day without speaking to Will in almost four years.
But he’s supposed to be back in the office today, so I took extra time getting ready this morning, executing the rare but impressive full body shave. After swallowing my ibuprofen, I spend twenty minutes listening for the light tap of Will’s boots on the tile floor of the hallway, then wander down to Jen’s office. She’s knee-deep in research papers, and she has a large smear of red ink on her cheek.
“Holy crap, how many do you have left to grade?” I gasp. Since Jen still teaches freshman and sophomore level lecture classes, her sections often have in excess of 200 students. I quietly give thanks for the two senior seminars I’m teaching, which are capped at twenty students each.
“I’m getting there. I talked to Phyllis, and she’s going to convince Lance to let me use a few TAs to finish up. I’m requesting Rich Duncan.” She grins and sucks on the end of her red pen seductively.
“Socks and sandals?” I try not to grimace. I fail.
“Don’t let the dorky footwear fool you. I’m thinkin’ he’s a sex machine.”
“Keep thinking. Are we off Dax this week?”
“Not really, I’m just tired of older men, you know? I think I might like ‘em young and uncomplicated for a while.” She goes for a lascivious grin, but doesn’t quite get there.
“Jen, Dax is thirty-one, he’s hardly AARP material.”
“I know, but Rich is yummy, and it looks like he doesn’t have to shave every day, which is a plus in my book—I can’t handle the whisker burns.” I grin, mainly because I know Jen won’t actually be sexing up young Rich Duncan—even she has her limits.
“Are you two still planning on molesting the TA pool?” I look around and see Will in the doorway of Jen’s office, and I can’t help it, my stomach twists and turns like a roller coaster. He looks different, somehow—it looks like he’s had a haircut.
“Willy!” I cry, feigning nonchalance. “How was the trip?”
“Boring. Pointless. The usual. Oh, I did eat squid for the first time in my life.”
“How was it?” Jen asks, her nose scrunched in distaste. She considers beef stroganoff international cuisine.
“Meh. I’d rather have a McRib.” We all close our eyes in a moment of silent reverence for the McRib. It’s just kind of a thing we do. When I open my eyes, Will is staring at me, but when I meet his gaze, he quickly looks down at his feet.
“Well, I’m going over to the student center for lunch,” Jen announces, grabbing her purse from beneath an unsteady pile of student papers. “I’m super hungry. I should be gone for at least an hour. You guys can hang out here. Alone.” Good grief.
“We get it, Subtle Sally. Thanks,” I mumble.
“The door locks on the side there.”
“Please leave before I hit you,” I growl. Thankfully, she does as she’s told. When we’re finally alone, I wander to the edge of Jen’s desk, and Will leans back against the side of a bookcase across the room. He looks tired. I’m getting a very bad feeling, so I begin to talk in a panicked stream.
“Will, I know what you saw on Monday night, but it wasn’t what it looked like. It was nothing. Paul came over to meet the home inspector, and then we were just talking, and --”