“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 --”
“It’s okay,” he says quietly, and my shoulders slump in relief. “But I think maybe we need to rethink this whole dating idea.”
Whoa.
“What?” I whisper. “Why?” I feel like I’ve been kicked in the chest.
“Listen, Luce…if we get involved, and things don’t work out, I’m not sure we’ll be able to save our friendship. I just don’t know if it’s worth the risk.”
I freeze with shock, my legs hanging lifelessly off the side of Jen’s desk. He doesn’t trust me. He doesn’t think I’m worth the risk. And the worst of it is, I’m being dumped—again.
No. Freakin’. Way.
“Will, this is so weird, because I was thinking the exact same thing.”
“Really?” His eyes are wide with surprise. Does he believe me?
“Absolutely. I mean, what were we thinking? Our friendship is more important than any fleeting attraction we might have for one another. Right?”
Tell me I’m not right. Please…
“Sure…I mean, you’re the best friend I’ve ever had, Lucy. I don’t want to do anything to jeopardize that.” When he moves forward to give me a hug, I focus on the light blue stripes of his oxford shirt and open my eyes really wide, so I don’t start to cry.
“I’m so glad you’re not mad at me,” he murmurs into the curve of my neck. I shake my head and pull away quickly. I need to get out of here, like, now.
“God, I totally forgot—I told a student that I’d meet him at the Campus Grounds, like, five minutes ago. I’ve gotta scoot.” I slip off my perch on Jen’s desk and wade through the sea of ungraded papers scattered across the floor.
“Hey, do you still want to bowl on Friday?” He calls after me as a shuffle out the door and down the hallway. I can’t turn to answer because despite my best efforts, tears are already streaming down my face. I call out what I hope is a breezy “I’ll text you tonight,” and rush into the shelter of the ancient stairwell.
Chapter Twelve
It’s two days until the big race. My exercise routine over the last week has consisted of crying and opening wine bottles, and I’m having serious doubts about my ability to make it to the finish line. But, as Jen has reminded me at least five hundred times, this was my idea, and like it or not, I’m showing up on Saturday. So is Will, who I’m pretending to be friends with, although my heart can’t take much more of it. Jen thinks we’re both being idiots, and if we would just go somewhere and “screw it out,” as she so delicately puts it, we could work through our problems. This is why Jen teaches political science, and not interpersonal communication.
So, my state of mind is less that stable as I find myself at the track waiting for Jen and Will. I was so nervous I ended up getting here fifteen minutes early, a rare occurrence. I sit on the bench by the water fountain and adjust my socks, hoping Jen will get here soon--I don’t do well when I’m alone with my thoughts lately. Still messing around with my feet, I look up when a blond woman stops at the water fountain. It’s not until she turns to face me that I recognize Diana. Will’s Diana.
“Excuse me, but aren’t you Lucy?” Her expression isn’t friendly, but it isn’t homicidal, either, so I decide to play along.
“Yes. You’re Diana, right?” I almost add “Will’s ex?” But I refrain.
She nods and sizes me up. I try to suck in my gut, but really, what’s the point? She’s perfect, I’m…fluffy.
“So, how’s Will?” Her lips take a decidedly downward turn, as if the very act of speaking his name leaves a bad taste in her mouth. I’m thinking this question is more loaded than a frat boy at a kegger, so I smile demurely and say that he’s doing fine.
“Did he ever get tenure?” I can tell she’s curious, even though she’s straightening her ponytail distractedly.
“As a matter of fact, he did. Just a few weeks ago.”
“Well, good for him.” But the way she says it sounds more like ‘Well, I hope he dies a penniless hippie and his corpse is devoured by maggots.’ Or something like that.
I’m trying to think of a civil response when she drops her arms from the elastic of her ponytail and steps towards me. “So are the two of you together?”
“Huh?” Quick with the comeback, Luce.
“I know he left me for some grad student in the department. I always assumed it was you.” Her gaze dares me to deny it.
“We’re not together. Never have been.” I bite my tongue before adding ‘Never will be’. “We’re just friends.” Her expression is doubtful. “Do you want me to tell him you said hello?”
She thinks about it for a moment, then says, “No, I want you to tell him I hope his dick falls off.” Then she turns and jogs away, her pert behind barely jigging as my jaw drops in her wake.
Okay, then.
I’m left gaping in Diana’s retreating form until Jen shows up and bumps my back with her water bottle. “You’re here early. Are you really that eager to run?”
“I’m that eager to get this over with,” I reply.
“Where’s Will?”
“Dunno.” I immediately become engrossed in re-tying my shoes.
“Have you talked to him yet?” She sounds exasperated with me. Hell, I’m exasperated with me.
“What’s to talk about?” Great—now I’ve executed the dreaded triple knot on my left sneaker.
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe the fact that you two are totally in love with each other, and the only reason he put the brakes on was because he saw you in a compromising position with Dr. Dweeb.”
“I told him it was nothing—he said he believed me!”
“Oh, bullshit. He thinks you’re toying with him, don’t you see?” She swats me again with her water bottle.
“No, not really.”
Jen speaks very slowly, as if I’m mentally challenged. “He thinks you’re on the rebound from Paul, and that you’re just gonna diddle him until you get your mojo back.
“I never lost my mojo,” I mutter, but I can see her point.
“Your groove, then.”
“Why are we talking like sassy black women? You’re not going to tell me to ‘talk to the hand,’ are you?”
“Fine, joke all you want, but you know I’m right. Will’s never had an ounce of courage when it comes to you—hell, he’s pined after you for years, and never said a word. If you want something to come of this, you’re the one who’s going to have to make it happen.”
“Take the bull by the horns,” I say, warming to the idea.
“Jesus, take the wheel,” says Jen.
“Exactly.”
***
It’s after eleven o’clock at night, and I’ve got a firm grip on the horns. After our run (during which Will and I shared a total of twelve words, four of which were “your shoelace is untied”), I went home and had three glasses of wine, an unscheduled nap, and nine wardrobe changes. Now I’m standing at his front door, thinking seriously about just going home. But I know my boobs look good in this push-up bra (screw Jen, they’re plenty big), so I take a deep breath and knock.
And knock.
Shit, is he out? His car is in the parking lot. Is he asleep? I’m knocking loud enough to wake the dead. Okay, one more knock and I’m—
“Hold on,” I hear through the door. His
voice sounds muffled--I guess I did wake him. When the door swings open, Will’s rumpled head pops out, and he squints at me through the bright porch light.
“Lucy—is everything okay?” He’s rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands, and it’s just about the cutest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.
“Umm, yeah. Sure. I just, you know, came to talk.”
“In the middle of the night?” He looks at me skeptically.
“It’s eleven o’clock, grandpa. May I come in?” God, now I’m embarrassed. I had to invite myself in.
“Yeah, sure, sure…sorry.” He opens the door and I see why he hesitated—he’s wearing nothing but a pair of striped blue boxers. Again, I find this absolutely adorable.
“You didn’t have to dress up for me,” I say innocently. This earns me a grin, but I can tell he’s still trying to wake up. Maybe I should come back when he’s more, you know, conscious.
“So what’s up?” He asks as he follows me into the living room. Not one to beat around the bush, especially when the underwire of this stupid bra is cutting into my armpit, I turn and confront him.
“I know you slept with Jen.”
Okay, he’s awake now. He rubs his eyes again, and then allows one of his hands to wrap around and squeeze the back of his neck. “Yes, I did.” He stares for a moment at his bare feet, clearly at a loss for words.
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