“The fear of the letter P?”
He scratched his chin. “Nah, the fear of male genitalia. But don’t worry, we’ll get you over it. The first time’s scary for everyone; we’ll rip that Band-Aid right off.”
“Swear on Ian’s soul if you show me your penis I’m going to whack it with my hand, and not a good whack but one that will take the tiny appendage from one end of the room to the other, where my cat will most likely pee on it and make it so no woman ever touches you again. Eunuch,” I said through clenched teeth. “You’ll be a eunuch. But hey, if that future sounds like fun, and you feel like taking a walk on the wild side, by all means, unzip, Casanova.”
“So . . .” Lex nodded knowingly, as if he had a dirty secret. “You got a sexual cat fantasy? Good to know.”
“That’s what you took from that whole speech? That I wanted you dressed up as a cat?”
“I’d probably do a song from the musical right before you org—”
I covered his mouth with my hand and shook my head. “Lex . . . I will kill you.”
“You say that at least ten times a day. It’s lost its effect, Sunshine.”
“Let’s just”—I moved away from him—“go over the next few pages, make me understand, and work your Lex magic, and then we can talk about sexual phobias.”
“Promise?” He licked his lips.
“EXPLAIN THIS!” I pushed the book into his hands. “And I may not kill you.”
“Sweet.”
“I said may.”
“I’m not worried. I’m a genius.”
“And yet you still managed to get herpes.”
Lex rolled his eyes, picked up the book, and cleared his throat. “Give me twenty minutes, and you’ll know this backward and forward.”
“Isn’t that what you say to girls in bed?”
“Actually, yes . . .” His eyebrows pushed together. “But I typically only need five to ten with them.”
It was going to be a long morning and an even longer day.
Chapter Five
Lex
What should have taken twenty minutes took twenty-two, which irritated me because I wasn’t typically wrong. Then again, if Gabi hadn’t raised her hand every other sentence, I wouldn’t have had to stop and tell her to put her damn hand down. Finally, in a fit of frustration, I sat on both her hands, grabbed her by the face, and explained the last two points.
I could tell the exact second the concepts suddenly made sense. Her eyes widened, and then in typical Gabs fashion she grinned so big her eyes nearly disappeared into two tiny slits. She was always like that, smiling with her entire face. If someone gave me a picture only of her eyes and asked if she was happy or sad, I’d be able to tell—not that I would ever admit that out loud to anyone. Hell, it was hard admitting it to myself.
“So.” I rubbed my hands together. “Any more questions?”
“How?”
I frowned and looked down at the discussion questions. “You’re going to have to be more specific, Sunshine.”
Gabs stood and stretched her arms over her head. I purposefully looked away and then muttered under my breath, “You really should wear deodorant.”
A pillow smacked me in the nose, making my eyes water.
“How does a computer science major know Organic Chem?”
“Easy.” I shrugged. “I was bored in high school so they kept putting me in AP classes, and then when my teachers found out that I spent most of my class time listening to music and drawing stick-figure renditions of my classmates, they told my mom to either enroll me in harder classes my senior year or get me out. I chose harder classes.” I smiled wickedly. “I always choose harder . . .”
Gabs ignored me and put her hands on her hips, a move I refused to fall prey to, though most guys couldn’t help themselves. When a chick put her hands on her hips, it was basically like a homing beacon for a guy’s eyes, a big giant red arrow that said “Look. Right. Here.”
I did not look. Someone should probably give me a medal, because her jeans were really nice—baggy but nice.
“Gabs, I’m saying this in the kindest way possible, but if those aren’t boyfriend jeans, you need new ones.”
She frowned and looked down. They bagged at the knees and hips. What the hell? I teased her about gaining weight, but really it was the opposite. Holy shit! Were my comments making her anorexic? Panic filled my chest and radiated to my arms, legs, fingertips. Without thinking, I jumped to my feet. “We should eat before we work.”
Gabs yawned, then grabbed her purse. “I just had a scone, though.”
“Typical females at your age and height need at least eighteen hundred and forty-eight calories a day, give or take a few calories. It all depends on physical activity, metabolism, and how much you sit.”
“Thank you, Siri. I don’t remember ass-dialing you, but as always you’re so very helpful.”
Fun Lexism: I had a really weird tendency to just throw random facts out into the universe when I was uncomfortable or nervous—which was usually never.
Damn Gabi, making me lose my edge on life. For my own sanity I needed Training Day to be over with so I could get back to my little black book full of numbers and needy women who wouldn’t care less if I spent the night in their arms and jumped into someone else’s a few hours later.
Not that I liked women’s arms.
Too clingy.
I wasn’t into that.
“Stop bitching. I’m going to feed you twice in one day. You should be worshipping the ground I walk on. Aren’t you poor? Eating Top Ramen and mac and cheese?”
I eyed her bare countertops and had half a mind to peek in her cupboards to see if she even had any canned goods. What the hell? I knew she was short on funds, but she could still eat, right?
Her stomach growled.
Gabs immediately blushed, bringing her hand to her stomach. “It’s just the pot scone digesting.”
I burst out laughing. “Pot on an empty stomach, not the most wise choice. But hey, who am I to judge, mon?”
“You aren’t Jamaican.”
“Finally! Someone who knows I’m white.” I sighed heavily. “Thank God. I’ve been mistaken for Kanye at least twice today.”
“Well, the ego matches, so I can understand how people would be confused.”
“Thanks, Sunshine.” I messed up her hair and pushed open the screen door. “Now hurry up. It’s food time, and then we train.” I turned around and walked backward so I could see her expression, which wasn’t at all eager or even a little bit excited. In fact, she looked like she was going to start blowing chunks. “Don’t worry, we’ll treat this as a little pretend date. God knows the last one of those you were on didn’t go well . . .”
“I hate how much Ian tells you.” She reached for the car door, but I made it before her and opened it.
Time froze.
I freaking hated it when that happened.
When we experienced those moments, the ones that only you and that other person are aware of but refuse to talk about.
Gabs tucked her dark hair behind her ear and ducked into the car, mumbling out a thanks, while I tried to slam it as hard as I could after her. I wasn’t pissed, but I sure as hell didn’t want her to think I was in love with her either.
Not that opening a car door proclaimed marriage, but in a relationship like ours? It sure as hell felt like a promise ring.
“So, where to?” Gabs asked once I started the car.
“Hell.” I smiled brightly. “Where else?”
“I can’t believe I’m about to say thank you twice in one day . . .” Gabs looked down at the table. “But thank you.”
“What was that?” I cupped my ear. “My in
flated ego didn’t hear you. Please, stroke it a few more times.”
“There will be no stroking.”
“Your loss.”
“Highly doubt that.”
“If you stroked, your doubts would be alleviated, believe me.” I pushed the basket of chips closer to her. “Eat a few more.”
“Says the guy who calls me fat.”
“I ask if you’ve gained weight. I never mean it in a negative way.”
Gabs gave me a dirty look.
“Okay, fine, no more fat jokes.” I cleared my throat. “You, um, you do eat, right?”
Her confused expression wasn’t helping me crack the code. I’d probably have to investigate later. Fine, I could do that, though I hated hacking into people’s personal accounts. But sometimes the benefits outweighed the risks, right?
“I’m fine.” She shrugged, then started chewing on her thumbnail. Bullshit she was fine. I didn’t care. I didn’t want to care.
I changed the subject. “Look, you’re going to be helping guys land the girls they’ve always wanted but have always been too nervous to actually pursue. If the program shows that the prospective couple will have a sixty-percent chance of success or higher, we print out a timeline and help them with each step.”
“I know.” Gabs rolled her eyes. “I’ve watched you and Ian juggle school schedules, girls, and the business for the past year.”
“So.” I chomped down on another chip. I’d been too busy making sure she ate and hardly even touched my own Nachos from Hell, the name of the place I’d taken her to. “Jealousy is really what our business is about. If a girl sees her guy with another attractive girl, something sparks in her. It’s basic human chemistry. She becomes jealous and then suddenly sees the guy in a completely different light. For you, that will be step one. Think you can handle it? We already know you can kiss; we just have to make sure you can make someone jealous. It’s about confidence and—”
Gabs stood and walked away.
While I was still talking. Hell, that was easy. Just start talking about the business, and she freaks out!
A couple was sitting at the bar. She cut off the girl by squeezing between them and then started hurriedly talking to the guy, her hands all over the place, her face alight with so much excitement I was momentarily stunned.
He handed her a napkin and she jumped up and down and made her way back to me, her cheeks flushed. “I’m so sorry, but I didn’t want him to leave!”
“Him?” I pointed to the guy, who was about five foot seven and half bald. “You didn’t want him to leave? That guy?” Was she drunk?
“Yes!” Gabs waved at him and then turned red again as though he made her nervous. What the hell? “He’s only, like, the most amazing musician. He opened for Ed Sheeran before he hit it big, and I’ve been following him on Instagram for the past year! I can’t believe he gave me his number!”
“What?” I shouted, nearly inhaling bits of tortilla chip from my throat up into my nose. “He did what?”
“He’s in the area for a while, and when I told him what a fan I was of his music and how long I’d been following him, he said he’d love to hang out sometime while he tours the area. Amazing, right?” She was literally jumping around in her seat.
I scratched my head and looked back at the guy.
There was seriously nothing impressive about his slight build or black-rimmed glasses that looked eerily like something I’d wear. Bastard.
He was like me, only nerdier.
And shorter.
And dare I say possessing only half the amount of hair I did?
“Sorry.” Gabs grabbed a chip from my plate. It was dripping with cheese, so she leaned under it, licking her fingers as she popped the whole thing into her mouth, including the very hot jalapeno. Her eyes didn’t even water. “You were talking about something . . . Go ahead.”
“Actually . . .” I pulled out my phone. “I have a date. A real date.”
Her face fell a bit before she cracked a smile. “Okay, well, I may stay then and hang with Eugene.”
I burst out laughing. “That’s his name?”
“What?” She looked hurt. “He’s a genius.”
So am I! I wanted to yell.
“Plus . . .” She stood. “I thought you said you had a date.”
Well, yes, I had . . . but I’d been lying. I just needed to get away from her. Something was shifting, changing. I did not do well with change.
Chameleons should all burn.
Anything that could roll with the punches pissed me off.
Damn lizards.
“Yeah.” I stood, joining her. “But remember, we still need to go over some training and have you sign the company consent form before you start this weekend.”
I glanced down at her, then fired off an e-mail with the correct forms. “Fill them out ASAP, and I’ll text you in the morning.”
She nodded and hurried off.
“Hey, Gabs?”
She turned, her dark hair whipping around in perfect slow motion. Maybe I’d mistakenly had a pot scone, because my world wasn’t feeling the same; it hadn’t since that morning.
“Be safe.”
She rolled her eyes. “Thanks, Mom.”
I clenched my phone so tightly it should have bent, or at least melted inside the palm of my hand.
Instead, I quickly sent out a text to a random chick I’d met last weekend and asked her to meet me at the restaurant bar.
It wasn’t jealousy I was experiencing.
It just felt like it.
And when Musician Eugene hugged Gabs for the second time right in front of me, it was heartburn, only heartburn, that made my chest feel as though a knife was getting twisted and then caught between my ribs.
Apparently, Sunshine didn’t just have kissing down.
She knew exactly how to make a man feel like the superhero and the sidekick, all within the same breath.
Chapter Six
Gabi
Lex was acting weird.
Weirder than normal.
Less mean.
But I knew it was only a smoke screen. Eventually he’d be an ass again and remind me why I hated him in the first place. I’d let him in too many times to count, only to get burned—twice.
Two times I’d fallen for that sexy smile, buzzed head, and six-pack. And twice I’d been singed. I was so done being that girl, the stupid one who thought, “Aw, maybe he likes me . . .” I mean, it wasn’t that I wanted him to confess undying love, but anything would be better than the constant game of verbal Battleship we had going on a daily basis.
“So . . .” Eugene pulled back from our hug and patted the barstool next to him. “Tell me, what’s your favorite song?”
“Song?” I echoed, as my eyes zeroed in on a tall, lanky Asian girl making her way toward Lex. Her legs went on forever, no exaggeration, and she could probably wrap them around his waist twice with ankle to spare. My eyes narrowed—I couldn’t help it—as he pulled her in for a kiss.
I saw tongue.
Whatever, not my problem.
Not my problem at all that he’d called a girl during our so-called date and asked her to meet him. What if I had wanted to hang out?
Please, Gabs, when have you and Lex ever really hung out? Alone? Without your puke in his hair?
“Gabrielle?” Eugene frowned, then ran a hand through his thinning hair. He reminded me of one of those scraggly tomcats you pick up on the street. Damn, he’d never stray, would he? Even as a musician he didn’t have much going for him other than his kind smile and straight teeth, especially when you compared him to Lex.
He had nice eyes.
That’s what my li
fe had come to.
Sitting at the bar with a man who looked like he’d still be holding my hand when I was eighty-eight years old and couldn’t find the chessboard even though it was right in front of me.
Crap, was I even making myself blind in my daydreams now?
“My, um, favorite song . . .” I bought some time by scratching my head and then motioning the bartender over and ordering a beer even though I seriously couldn’t afford it. Maybe Eugene would pay for it. “. . . is ‘Heartless Romance.’”
Eugene made a face, a very unattractive one that had me thinking about stupid felines again. “That’s the most unromantic song I have. It’s . . . sad.”
“What can I say?” I really tried to focus on him, but Lex was whispering into the girl’s long, sleek dark hair as she sat across his lap. His fingers inched up her thigh. I shivered. What would that feel like? To have those huge warm hands on me? Good. It would feel good. And I’d only let it happen for a few seconds, just so I could know what it was like, and then I’d slap him in the face.
Right?
“I, um . . .” Wait, what was I talking about? “I don’t do romance.” May as well tell Eugene I was a lesbian. Good one, Gabs.
I’m going to die alone.
And name my cat Eugene.
“Oh.” All of the excitement in his eyes just disappeared, right along with his smile. He fumbled with his IPA, pulling at the blue-and-white label, and then looked away from me.
I was that interesting.
Lex glanced over at us, one eyebrow doing that stupid judgmental arch that made me want to shave it off on an hourly basis.
“So!” I faked enthusiasm, my voice louder than usual. “When’s your next concert?”
The Matchmaker's Replacement Page 5
