Lucy Wagner Gets In Shape (A Romantic Comedy) (15 page)

Fifteen minutes before class is over, there are three students left in the room—two writing furiously, and poor Todd, staring off into space, presumably waiting for some kind of divine intervention. Out of the corner of my eye I see Jen and Will standing in front of the waist-high window on the classroom door. They each have Chinese take-out boxes from Frosted Lucky Chans, and are eating with gusto, exaggerated bites and eye rolls designed to make my mouth water with jealousy. It’s working.

“
Ten minutes, guys,” I call into the cavernous classroom. Okay, so they really have fifteen minutes, but they need to hurry up. I glance at the door again to find Jen’s arm entwined in Will’s, while they devour spicy pork like a bride and groom feeding each other their first piece of cake. I turn my back on my students and give them my middle finger, but they just laugh and continue their feast. I refuse to give them the satisfaction of breaking a smile.

Once my two over-achievers and poor Todd finally leave, I wander over to the office and find that virtually everyone in the department, from professor to student worker, is stuffed in Phyllis’ office. Ooh, something good must have happened.

“
What’s going on?” I wander in and squeeze myself between Will and Barbara, the undergraduate advisor, reaching for the bowl of candy at the edge of Phyllis’ desk. I’m starving, but my arm’s not quite long enough. Will reaches over and grabs four fun-size Milky Way bars, shoves them in my hand, and leans to murmur in my ear.

“
Some kid accused Brickman of sexual harassment.”

“
What?”
I’m having trouble wrapping my head around Brickman and a sexual harassment claim, because (a) Brickman might be the most asexual human being on the planet, and (b) Brickman is a forty-something woman with no kids, never married.

“
Was it a guy or a girl?” Okay, so it’s not my most PC moment, but come on, she’s a forty-something woman with no kids, never married—don’t tell me your mind wouldn’t go there.

“
Dunno. Phyllis is being pretty tight-lipped about the whole thing.” He grabs a Milky Way out of my hand, peels off the wrapper, and pops it in his mouth. “We should probably mind our own business.” But he makes no move to leave.

“
Oh, screw that. Where’s Jen?”

“
In class. We brought you Lucky Chan’s—it’s in the fridge.”

“
God, thank you, I’m starving,” I moan as we back out of the office and head towards the kitchenette. “You can get to Phyllis later, right?”

Phyllis
loves
Will. I mean, absolutely hero-worships him. She’s old enough to be his mother, but there’s a bit of a cougar glint in her eyes whenever he’s around. Will uses this to his advantage, and is the recipient of all kinds of special perks because of it—the best classrooms, the newest computer, the fastest reimbursements after trips. He also gets some primo gossip, when he’s in the mood for it. And he’d better damn well be in the mood for it, because this is the best story we’ve had in the department since one of the TAs quit to do a summer stint on MTV’s The Real World-Cancun.

“
Sure, I guess. I mean, I’m not sure how much she’s allowed to tell, legally and all.” He shrugs his shoulder, as if he’s already losing interest. Over my dead body.

“
Will, she would sing like Beverly Sills to you. Please get me the scoop.” He just shakes his head at my pathetic need for dirty laundry. But I know he’ll have the scoop for me by the end of the day. He’s the perfect combination of boyfriend
(boyfriend, omigod)
and best friend.

When I get back to my office, I pick up the phone and make the call I’ve been dreading. I chew my bottom lip anxiously as the ringing echoes in my ears.

“
Richards here.”

“
Dr. Richards?” Didn’t he just say that?

“
Yes?”

“
This is Lucy Wagner.”

“
Lucy!” He sounds delighted to hear from me, which is definitely a surprise. “How are you? I take it you received my email.”

“
Yes, sir. I’m extremely flattered by your offer.” And I am, that’s no lie. But even though I’m flattered, I don’t know if I’m interested.

“
You should be. You were up against some stiff competition, but your research is solid, and you handled yourself in the interview quite professionally.”

I did? “I did?” Oh, I probably shouldn’t say that. But Richards just laughs.

“
Yes, you did. So have we missed out on the great Dr. Wagner?”

“
What?” Can he tell I don’t want the job? I’m trying my best to sound upbeat.

“
Have we lost you to another school?”

“
Oh…Oh, no, as a matter of fact, you haven’t,” I reply weakly.

“
Wonderful. So can we welcome you to the department, then?”

“
Well, there are a few things I need to work out…I mean, in my personal life. Can I give you an answer by the end of the week?”

“
Sure, sure, give me a call on Friday. We’re very anxious to have you, Lucy. Talk to you soon.” And then he is gone. I sit with the phone still to my ear for a long moment, my mind swirling with uncertainty. God, I have no idea what to do. My heart wants to stay with Will forever, here in Houston, and get married and buy a house and make babies and go on winter skiing trips, because Will loves to ski and I love Will.

My brain, however, has different ideas. I’ve been in college for seven straight years, I’ve spent well into the six figures on my education, all with the goal of obtaining a job just like the one that has dropped in my lap. How can I pass it up? If Will and I are going to be together, why is it me who has to compromise her career? Would Will consider putting the brakes on
his
career for me? How could I even ask him to?

“
Don’t hurt yourself,” Jen says as she barges into my office and plops down in the wailing chair.

“
What?”

“
You look like you’re suffering from painful indecisiveness. What’s the deal, Lucille?”

I sigh and drop the phone in its cradle. “Ugh. My life is such a mess right now.”

“
Hey, did you hear about Brickman?” She leans forward and grabs a handful of Smarties from the cup on my desk.

“
Jen—can we focus on my drama?” I’m not usually quite this self-centered, but I can’t think about anyone else’s problems today without getting a headache.

“
Oh, yeah, sure. Because it’s all about you,” she sneers, rolling her eyes for sarcastic effect.

“
I got a job offer from LSU.”

“
You’re shitting me!” A tiny bit of a Smartie flies from her mouth onto my desk, and she wipes it off sheepishly. “I thought you tanked that interview.”

“
You and me both. But apparently I was the lesser of several evils. So now what do I do?”

“
Umm, you scoot your happy ass to Baton Rouge and get yourself an apartment with a second room for your bff Jen. Shit, I might even get a new boyfriend out of this.”

“
What about Dax?” I’m always feeling sorry for poor Dax. Yes, he’s a horrible slacker, and a bit of a pig, but he adores Jen.

“
You know I’m always looking to trade up. Did I tell you he ate a piece of cheese off the
floor
yesterday? Off the floor. It’s like dating Scooby Doo.”

“
Hmm,” I grunt noncommittally. I want to stick up for Dax, but sometimes he makes it difficult.

“
Listen, I know you’re worried about Fisher, but you guys can figure something out. A long-distance relationship with lots of Skype-sex. Alternating weekends together. An industrial-strength vibrator. It’s all good, kid.”

“I dunno. Do long-distance relationships work out? I’ve never been in one.” I’m skeptical, but really, this seems like the only solution from my perspective.

“Sometimes. What does Will think?”

I haven’t exactly told him yet.”

Jen rolls her eyes in irritation. “It figures. Why don’t you sit here and freak out for a few more days, get to the point in your head where you and Will have rejected academia and joined the circus, and
then
tell him what’s going on. Because, you know, that would be the mature thing to do.”

“Just because you’re all reasonable and level-headed doesn’t mean that you’re not a total bitch,” I pout.

“Whatever, Sunshine. You’re just pissed because I nailed you. Now go talk to him and work it out, for God’s sake. I’m getting tired of your drama.” I know that’s a lie, because she loves drama, but it doesn’t change the fact that she’s still right. Goddammit.

Chapter Sixteen

I invite Will over for dinner that night. I figure we can have some Thai food, and some wine, and talk seriously about our lives, and our jobs, and what we both expect out of this relationship.

However, the second I open the front door, I realize things aren’t going to go quite as planned. After he’s kicked the front door closed behind him and pinned me back against the coat closet, he kisses me so deeply it feels like he might crawl right inside my skin, then leans back a fraction of an inch.

“You taste sweet. And you’re sweaty.”

“I ate a Jolly Rancher. And I’ve been cooking,” I mumble. I try to pull away, but he holds on tight.

“Good sweaty. Sexy sweaty,” he assures me, dipping his head to kiss the skin behind my ear. His fingers graze down to the hem of my tank top, and I raise my arms immediately, unquestioningly, and help him slip it up and off. His lips trail down my neck, my shoulders, my stomach, marking me with his touch, and then he’s on his knees, unbuttoning my jeans, before I can even catch up. I plunge my fingers into his thick curls and hold on, gasping as he peels down the front of my pants and runs his tongue along my hipbones. He stops to look up at me, and I see the dark desire in his eyes. I’m having a hard time catching my breath.

“You okay?” He whispers, and I nod wordlessly. He continues to pull off my jeans, and I finally kick them off my feet impatiently. He pauses to kiss the tender flesh between my belly button and the waistband of my panties. His wet lips, his hot breath on my abdomen, kick the butterflies in my stomach into overdrive.

“I can’t wait…I need you now,” I choke, grabbing a handful of hair and pulling him up to me. He rises slowly, and his lips hover over mine for a delicious second before I lunge toward him, locking my mouth over his, tasting his breath, feeling the tickle of his afternoon stubble against my cheeks. Finally he pulls away and walks backwards towards my bedroom, squeezing my hand, his eyes locked with mine.

We fall into bed, and he rips his t-shirt over his head, his long, lean body hovering over mine. “I need you, too. Always. I love you.” His voice is low and rough, and I close my eyes because it’s all too much, too intense, too…everything. And as our bodies come together and begin to melt into each other, I wonder if I will ever be able to leave him. To leave this.

***

Four hours later, I wake up with my face buried in Will’s chest, our legs tangled together, the bedding kicked off the end of the mattress in a inelegant lump. Okay, so the Pad Thai is probably cold and gelatinous in the kitchen, but I can’t muster the energy to care. Will shifts slightly, and makes tiny sleep sounds as he nuzzles his nose in my hair. I kiss his chin and untangle myself from his embrace as delicately as I can, but obviously it’s not delicate enough, because he shifts and lifts himself slowly onto his elbows. “What time is it?” His eyes are squinty in the lamplight, and I immediately slide back into bed.

“It’s almost midnight.” I kiss his bare shoulder, and it’s smooth and hot and delicious.

“Oh man, your dinner. I bet it’s cold--I’m sorry.”

“I’m not,” I murmur, still worshiping his shoulder. There are a few stray freckles near his collarbone, and I trace them with my fingertip. “I can eat Thai food anytime. Orgasms are a little harder to come by.”

“Well, there’s no reason you can’t have both.” He pushes the hair off my forehead and kisses the top of my head. “Let’s go warm everything up—I’m sure it’s still good.” Will pulls on his boxers, and I pull on my panties and his oxford shirt, which comes down to my knees and makes me feel like Ali McGraw in “Love Story”. But, you know, without all the cancer and stuff.

I make a pit-stop in the bathroom, and by the time I get to the kitchen, Will is already re-heating dinner on the stove top. He’s even set the table, and my stomach immediately rumbles with hunger. When was the last time I ate? “Thanks, Wilbur.”

“No prob. I’m the king of the re-heat. When I first started college, my mom would make a week’s worth of meals and bring them to me every Sunday. I thawed as directed.” He stirs as he talks, and I am overcome with the desire to walk over and squeeze his ass. I resist it.

“Your mom sounds…generous,” I say carefully.

“You know she’s a total smothers mother. But once my older sister started having kids, she moved on to smothering them, to my great relief. Although I do miss the frozen lasagna.”

“My mom was a horrible cook. Which is ironic, since her family owned a café. We ate a lot of Arby’s growing up.”

“Lucky. I always envied the kids who got to eat fast food—my mom thought it would poison my body.”

“She may have been right—I developed a debilitating addiction to Horsey Sauce. I still get the shakes when I see a hunk of roast beef at the deli.”

“I admire the way you pulled yourself up from the gutter.” He grabs the tails of his (okay, so for the moment,
my
) shirt, and pulls me close for a kiss.

“One day at a time,” I murmur against his lips.

He grins and moves to peck the tip of my nose. “C’mon, let’s eat. If we get distracted again, I can’t guarantee this meal can be resurrected a third time.” We serve up the Pad Thai and sit at my tiny kitchenette, our bare knees bumping under the table. Seriously, even I’m feeling a bit nauseous with our excessive spurts of cute.