Free Perfectly Messy by Lizzy Charles Page B

herself to salivate at the mere mention of Pavlov. What’s with her?”
    “She’s devoted her entire career to teaching entry level psychology. How would anyone survive that plight? She’s bound to have fallen in love with at least one of those researchers.”
    “Ha, too true. Here you go. Have at it.” I hand over the laptop, letting him finish typing up the final paragraph. Ian’s been fun to work with. Thoughtful, funny, and, thankfully, wicked smart. I totally lucked out in the random pairing for this project. We couldn’t be more different. A business-minded jock paired with an intellectual musician. But we work well together, complimenting one another’s weaknesses.
    Ian types the last word and we both let out a breath of relief. “Finally.” He shrinks Microsoft Word and dives into iTunes. “Now, onto the important stuff.”
    I yawn and my fingers itch to bolt and call Lucy.
    “Dude, it’s like I wrote this playlist.” He turns on one of my favorite instrumental tracks from Lower Case Noises . “Nice.” He rocks forward with the music, continuing to browse. “So, that girl you brought to the September fundraiser? The one with the bacon-wrapped scallops, remember?”
    “Yeah? What about her?”
    “Just haven’t seen her around since you introduced her. Are you guys still a thing?”
    My tongue nearly gets bitten off as I try to hold in my real reaction. Instead, I sit up a bit straighter. “Yeah, she’s still my girlfriend.”
    “All right.” Ian turns back to the laptop, studying the list again.
    “All right?” I laugh. If my blood could change colors, it just became green.
    He looks back at me and shrugs. “Just thought it was worth asking. She seems cool.” He waves me off. “Don’t worry about me. I’m not the hit-on-your-friend’s-girl type of guy. I was just curious.” He closes my laptop, holding out a hand to haul me off his couch.
    Peace.
    I clasp it, allowing him to pull me up. I’m too tired for this. “You sure?” I ask. “Man, I’ve got no time to be friends with someone who’s gonna stab me in the back.” My blunt words bite, but I don’t care. I’m exhausted and, frick, he’s talking about Lucy!
    He squeezes my shoulder. “I’m not that type of guy. Bros before hoes , right?” He chuckles. “You can’t really blame me for asking, right?”
    My gut relaxes; I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I know he’s good. Fishing out the creeps is my specialty. “No, I can’t blame you. She’s amazing. That’s why I’m with her.”
    “And stunning. You’re lucky, man.” He walks me to the front door. “Let me know if it doesn’t work out, all right?” he says with a wicked smile.
    “Tool.”
    “Whatever.” We fist pump. “See you next week? I’ll email the project in tonight.”
    “Sweet.”
    Once I’m on the road, my finger hovers over Call Lucy. My gut pulls at me and I hesitate longer, as that green, sludge-like feeling creeps back through me. Why didn’t it occur to me that other guys might like Lucy? I’ve been living in a stupid bubble. She’s not mine. I don’t own her. Just because I’m not seeing her every day doesn’t mean other guys aren’t scoping her out.
    My heart drops when I think of her waiting for my call. I owe her way more than that. A reason to keep being with me.
    I nearly push CALL, but the ache from too much separation rips into me. If I hear her voice, the pain will kill me.
    No, I need more than that.
    A quick U-turn and my heart throttles.
    Yes. I need to see Lucy.
    Right now.

Chapter Nine

     
    Lucy
     
    All right. The Fascinating Life of Whales is only adding to the weight on my eyelids. I click off the National Geographic Channel, glancing again at the clock for what’s probably the one thousandth time. Twenty-eight past midnight. I pull up Facebook on my laptop. Anything to distract me from that piece of plastic on the table called a phone.
    Eighty-two notifications. Wow, it’s only been a week since I