Lucy Wagner Gets In Shape (A Romantic Comedy)

by Claire Matthews

  “I dunno, I didn’t ask. I didn’t want to sound too eager.”

  “Geez, Will, what’s wrong with sounding eager? Your entire future is on the line here!” I’ve had a few beers, so I say all this rather dramatically. The bartender shoots me a suspicious glance. It’s one of those “will I be kicking her out of here later?” glances.

  “Wow, thanks.” Will says dryly.

  “Sorry.” I start peeling the label off of my Bud Light. “I’m sure he’ll call tonight. Does he have your cell number?” And now I’m obsessing.

  “Girl, leave him alone,” Jen laughs, and we all try our best to relax. And by ‘try our best to relax,’ I mean drink beer until Jenny and I are belting out old New Kids on the Block songs at the top of our lungs, and Will is hugging the beer bucket against his cheek, chanting “shut up, shut up, shut up.”

  Around nine o’clock, Dax comes to join us, and after we scarf down two Hawaiian pizzas, we call it an early night. Will and I make our way to the shuttle stop—he can actually walk to his place from The Duck, but he sits with me on the bench while I wait for the bus. We’ve sobered up a bit since we ate our pizza.

  “You don’t have to wait here with me, you know. You must be exhausted.” I’m studying him under the harsh light of the shuttle canopy—his tie hangs limply around his neck, and the stubble on his chin makes him look even more rumpled. There are dark circles under his eyes.

  “Of course I do.”

  “No, you think you do, because your mother filled your head with antiquated notions of chivalry in a male-dominated social structure.”

  “Yes, that must be it. I’ll leave you to it, then.” He gets up to leave, and I let forth a giggle and grab his arm. I really don’t want to wait for the bus alone in the dark.

  He relents easily, and then we both freeze when his cell phone begins to ring.

  “Hey, Rich.” It’s Dr. Lance. I knew he’d call. There’s a bit of silence, and Will turns away from me, sticking his finger in his free ear to hear better. It seems like Dr. Lance is doing all the talking. Will’s nodding, but hasn’t really said much. I can’t tell what’s going on. Is this good or bad? Shit.

  “Tuesday sounds good,” Will says finally, and now I’m really confused. What? What about Tuesday? This is driving me nuts.

  “All right, Rich, will do. Thanks.” Will hangs up, his back still facing me. I realize that I’ve been chewing my bottom lip painfully.

  “What?” I practically shriek. “What’s Tuesday good for? A celebration? A ritual killing?”

  He finally turns to face me. “A meeting over at the Provost’s office. Apparently I have to be there when he submits my paperwork for tenure.”

  “Omigod! Omigod!” I jump up like a Jack-in-the-Box and fling myself into his arms. Hugging him close, I bury my face in the crook of his neck. He holds on to steady me, his bottom hand on the small of my back, his top cupping the nape of my neck. “I am so happy for you,” I squeak into his shoulder.

  After a moment he pulls back and looks into my eyes seriously. I’m still cradled in his embrace. And then he leans down and kisses me. Just like that. It’s so soft; it’s not even really a kiss, just two pairs of lips brushing each other, tiny touches that almost fail to register. God, this can’t be happening, can it? We’ve had too much beer.

  Finally, he lifts his head from mine. His eyes are wide. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

  “S’okay,” I whisper back. And then I reach up and pull his lips back to mine. Harder this time. I hear his sharp intake of air…sense his mouth opening…feel his tongue reach to touch mine. They are very happy to meet each other.

  One thought hits me out of the blue: He’s not like Paul at all.

  He’s so much better.

  Go figure—sweet, goofy Will, all arms and elbows and gangly charm--It’s his kisses that make my knees weak; make my nerve-endings zing; make the blood rush to all the important parts in warm waves of pleasure. As we come up for air, I realize that I’ve slipped my hands under his blazer, and my palms are gripping his shirtfront like two vices. I pull back abruptly—kind of like ripping off a band-aid.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper.

  “S’okay.” We stare at each other for a long moment. It looks like Will wants to say something, but we’re interrupted by the squealing brakes of the shuttle bus as it comes to a halt in front of us.

  “That’s me,” I say stupidly. My voice sounds like I’ve swallowed a cup of pea gravel.

  “Right.” He removes his hands from my waist. I want them back immediately.

  “Will…” What the hell am I going to say?

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, Luce.” He gives me a shaky grin, and somehow I end up on the bus, although for the life of me I don’t remember climbing the steps or sliding into my seat.

  Chapter Eight

  To Do:

  1. Groceries—milk, broccoli, rice—no candy!

  2. Shop for interview suit at Macy’s

  3. Make appointment for cut/highlights

  4. Stop thinking about Will

  Seriously, I need to stop thinking about Will. We had a long talk on Monday at work, and he totally agreed with me when I told him our bus stop kiss was a huge mistake. I mean, we can’t screw around, we’re best friends. Certainly it was the alcohol that made us act so foolishly. And the excitement of Will’s tenure success. And the fact that both of us are without partners at the moment. I mean, let’s face it, we’re both probably just…horny.

  So, that’s over and done, and it’s a huge relief. I mean it. I feel so much better now. So much better.

  Then why can’t I stop thinking about him? It’s probably because I’m embarrassed. It kind of feels like the day I walked in on my brother while he was getting out of the shower. Well, strike that. It kind of feels like I walked in on my brother getting out of the shower and enjoyed it. Not my real brother, of course--I mean Will.

  Well, shit, you know what I mean.

  Anyway, the important thing is that I’m feeling much better about the whole situation. In fact, I’m not in the least bit nervous about seeing Will this afternoon—we’re going biking, and I really hit the jackpot at the sporting goods store this morning—I got some great biking shorts that actually have pads in the butt (I’m going to tell everyone they are for comfort, but I really bought them because I have a flat ass, and they make my booty look healthy); some super-cool biking gloves; more tanks; and some biking shoes with the clips that keep your feet on the pedals. I am going to look so dope (in the good way).

  I’m getting ready to leave for the bike shop when the doorbell rings. I’m intrigued, because my doorbell never rings. I open the door and see Paul, looking delicious in a mossy green button-down and dark-wash jeans. It takes all my strength to hate him when he looks this good.

  “Oh…hey.”

  “Hey, Luce. Laurie called me earlier, we’ve got an offer on the condo. Have you got a second to sit down and look at it?” He waves a manila envelope in my face.

  “Actually, I was just leaving.” Why is he dropping by without calling? I have a life, you know.

  “Oh, well…” he stops himself, and I think he’s finally looking at me for the first time since I opened the door. “What, are you going biking or something?” There’s a hint of a smirk on his face. Okay, so it’s not that hard to hate him.

  “Yes, as a matter of fact. Does that amuse you?”

  “No, no…” he protests, but he’s grinning, damn him. “I think it’s great. Really.” He leans on his shoulder against the doorjamb, and I swallow hard. Keep it together, Luce.

  “Why don’t I stop by your office tomorrow morning and we can have a look at the offer then?” I ask dismissively. I really want him to leave now, but it doesn’t look like he’s going any time soon.

  “So what made you decide to take up biking? You never had any interest when we were together.”

  “Sure I did,” I lie, shifting my weight from foot to foot. “I just…never had time whe
n I was working on my dissertation. Now I do.”

  He eyes me skeptically. “I’m doing a training ride tomorrow afternoon. Do you want to come along?”

  Is he serious? “Umm, I think I’ll leave you and Langley to it,” I murmur, making no attempt to hide the distaste in my voice.

  “Yeah, well…Langley and I aren’t training together anymore.”

  What?

  “Oh, really?” My tone is nonchalant. I will not ask, I will not ask, I will not ask—

  “We’re not really doing anything together anymore. We didn’t work out as a couple. She was a little too intense for me.” He has the decency to look sheepish, but I hardly notice.

  They aren’t together anymore? She was too intense for him? Who the hell is too intense for Paul? He makes most suicide bombers look relaxed.

  After an awkward silence, Paul clears his throat. “So, are you going to come ride with me or not?” He gives me a ridiculously sexy smile.

  “Umm…I think I’ll pass.”

  ***

  This is kicking my ass. Literally. Even with my butt pads in place, I am so sore I can hardly walk once we end our fifteen-mile ride. Will is putting our bikes on the rack mounted to the back of his jeep, while Jen and I plan my interview wardrobe strategy.

  “You should definitely wear the Kate Spade skirt with the J Crew cardi. And you can borrow those silver pumps of mine, the ones with the t-straps.” Jenny is my fashion consultant—left to my own devices, I’d wear something way too girly, as my instincts run more towards Holly Hobby than Versace. But I’m learning.

  “Are you sure the silver ones will go with that cardigan? I don’t know--I’m not really a silver kind of gal.” I’m dubious.

  “You’re not a silver kind of gal? Well, what color are you then?”

  “I’m thinking I’m a pink? Or a beige? Beigey-pink?” Jen’s look tells me I’m full of shit, so I stop talking. I feel the text message alert from my phone buzz against my hip.

  How was ur ride? TOU, P

  How was my ride? He’s thinking of me? Oh, for crying out loud—

  “What?” Jen’s on to me.

  “Nothing.” I shove the phone quickly in pocket, but she lunges, reaches in, and neatly plucks it out. As she reads the text, her face clouds over.

  “Is this from Paul? Why is he texting you?”

  “I don’t know. He came over this morning to show me an offer on the condo. We started talking about biking. I guess he’s just trying to be nice.”

  “Yeah, because that’s so like Paul, right?” Her voice has a nasty edge.

  “Whatever, Jen. He’s probably just feeling lonely or something. Apparently he and Langley broke up.”

  Jen’s eyes bug out comically. “Oh, so that bitch is out of the picture, and now he wants you back?”

  “No, of course not! He just stopped by to show me the offer on the condo, that’s all.”

  “What’s all?” Will walks up, wiping his hands on a white towel.

  “Nothing,” I say quickly.

  “Paul broke up with his whore, and now he wants Lucy back.”

  “Not true,” I mumble, and do my best to avoid Will’s questioning gaze. Goddamn Jen and her big mouth. “C’mon, we’ve got to get a move on if we’re going to make that shower.” Jen and I are going to a bridal shower for Corrine, one of our grad school friends. It’s hard to believe that anyone from our group is actually getting married—grad school tends to keep you single and penniless, and for a long time, I was the only one in our cohort with a boyfriend. Fat lot of good that did me.

  “Hey, are you okay?” Will’s looking at me intently, and I feel…God, I don’t know how I feel. Embarrassed? Disloyal? What the hell is wrong with me?

  “Of course! But we’re horribly late. Would you mind taking the bikes to your place? Then Jen and I can go straight back in her car and get ready.”

  “Sure, no prob.”

  “Thanks, Dumpling,” I grin as Jen and I climb into her car.

  “See ya,” he says, giving us a single wave as we drive away. I suddenly realize that he hasn’t called me a pet name all day.

  ***

  Jen and I drive back to my condo in silence. My mind is on a million things…Will, Paul, my upcoming interview, my dad. Jen seems to recognize my need for quiet, so she doesn’t speak until we’ve made it to the condo and dumped our equipment in a heap by the front door.

  “So, do you need to talk? Or would you rather just pretend that you’re not upset.”

  “I guess we can talk,” I say, my voice flat with dread. I don’t know if I can do this.

  “C’mon.” We head over to the couch. “Out with it.”

  I take a deep, fortifying breath. “Okay. Last Friday…” Jen raises her eyebrows at me when I pause. “Last Friday night Will kissed me. And then I kissed him.” Her eyebrows remained raised, as if waiting for a punch line that I’ve failed to deliver.

  “Aaaand?” She prompts. I’m expecting a shocked gasp, an unhinged jaw. But I’m getting nothing.

  “And I kissed him, Jenny! That wasn’t supposed to happen.”

  “Bitch, please--of course it was supposed to happen.” The shocked look on my face seems to annoy her. “You are not that blind, Lucy Wagner. You might be in all kinds of denial, but you know that man is in love with you.”

  “Will?”

  “Will?” She mocks me in a fluttery, high voice. “Of course, Will! Do you not have eyes, or ears, or a freaking brain? That poor doofus has been in love with you for years, and you tease him, and bait him, and string him along…Good lord, how can you possibly sit there and act surprised?”

  “Why are you yelling at me?”

  “Because you are infuriating! Both of you! Do you have any idea how difficult it is to watch the two of you fumble around and fuck up so badly?”

  “What are you talking about?” My voice is high and thin—I sound freaked out. I am freaked out.

  “Lucy. Think about it. You started grad school, what, four years ago, in September…” I nod silently. “By November, Will had broken up with his fiancé, whatshername.”

  “Diana.”

  “Whatever. Why do you think he did that?”

  I swallow hard, and I can feel a trickle of sweat running down my back. When did it get so hot in here? “He didn’t love her. He told me.”

  “Right. He fell out of love with her, because he fell in love with you.”

  I’m already shaking my head. She has this so wrong. “No, Jen, he never loved her. It had nothing to do with me.”

  “Maybe you’re right, maybe he never loved her. But you’re full of shit if you think it had nothing to do with you.” Her eyes are wide and serious. How does she know all of this?

  “Jen…you’ve made all this up in your head. Will’s never shown any interest in me—I mean, not romantically. If he had feelings for me, he would have asked me out after he broke things off with Diana.”

  Jen is silent for a long moment. I can tell she’s choosing her words carefully. “What if he was going to? What if you went out of town, to a wedding, and he spent the whole weekend planning a surprise first date for the two of you--drinks, a romantic dinner, then a few rounds of bowling…” Bowling. Only Will and Jen know of my intense passion for bowling—it’s my secret shame. I feel a sick rumbling in the pit of my stomach.

  “And what if you returned from this wedding, lit up like a top, talking about this wonderful doctor you met, and how beautiful and sexy he was, and how he’d asked you out. How you thought he was the one.” She emphasizes her words with air quotes.

  We’re silent for a long moment. My whole body is numb and tingly. “Did he tell you that?” I finally whisper.

  Jen sighs heavily. “Most of it I pieced together on my own. But yeah, one night, we were at Uncle Charlie’s, and you left early with Corrine—I think you had a paper due the next morning or something. Will and I were at the table, and the way he stared at you as you left…I mean, he was so obviously lovesick.
So I asked him. And he was drunk enough to tell me the truth.” She shrugs one shoulder, and I’m suddenly angry.

  “And you tell me this now? Now?” I feel weak with shock. “Jenny, how could you keep this from me?”

  “Luce, he made me promise not to tell. You were with Paul. He was worried it would ruin your friendship. And what good would it have done? Would you have left Paul if you’d known about Will’s feelings?”

  “I…I don’t know.” God, the pain in my stomach is traveling to my head. My emotions are all over the map. Why didn’t he say anything? But what was he supposed to say? Like Jen said, I was with Paul--we were committed, we bought a condo together…

  God. God. I really can’t process this right now. In a bout of uncharacteristic tenderness, Jen places her hand on my arm. “Are you okay? I didn’t mean to upset you, but I thought, since you guys finally kissed…” She trails off awkwardly.

  “But we talked about it, at work on Monday. I told him I thought the kiss was a mistake and he agreed with me.”

  Jen looks at me seriously for a moment. “Well, maybe he was telling the truth. Maybe he’s over you. You’re not that loveable, you know.” Ha-ha. I slap her hand off my arm with a grin, but her face remains serious. “Just to talk to him, Luce.”

  Chapter Nine

  I’m alone, in my hotel room, eating out of my bag of sweeties and watching CNN. It’s midnight, and I know I should be asleep, but I’m too keyed up. My interview is tomorrow, and I’ve been over my job talk and teaching demonstration a thousand times. My outfit is meticulously ironed and hanging on the shower rack in the bathroom. I’ve even got a briefcase that I borrowed from Jen, since I can’t very well show up to a job interview with my black and aqua Jansport backpack.