Free Lucy Wagner Gets In Shape (A Romantic Comedy) by Claire Matthews Page B

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.
    It’s been a long week. After Jen and I talked, I wanted to call Will and get everything out in the open, but I couldn’t—I still can’t. I’m reeling with regret and confusion. How do I feel about Will? How does he feel about me?
    So, I’ve been keeping to myself. I work out at the gym on my own in the mornings, and beg off after-work activities. Will and Jen both offered to help me with my interview preparations, but I put them off. For some reason, I just want to be alone.
    Of course, it doesn’t help that Paul keeps calling and texting. Maybe he does want me back, now that Langley is out of the picture. Amazingly, when I think of Paul now, all I picture is his snarly face, the day he found his DVDs in the bathroom cabinet…and how he yelled at me…and how Will came and kicked him out. Then I think about how Will sat on the couch and ate Red Hots and watched Regis and Kelly with me until I fell asleep. I pick a Red Hot out of my bag of sweeties. As I suck on it, I wonder if this is how he would have tasted if he’d kissed me that day…
    Jesus, Lucy, get a grip.
    When I finally turn out the lights and go to bed, I sleep fitfully, and dream about market protectionism in the European Union.
    ***
    “Have a seat, Lucy. I’m just going to get the rest of the committee, and we’ll get started in a few minutes. Would you like something to drink?” Dr. Richards, the department chair, is really very nice. He’s given me a campus tour, and introduced me to some of the faculty. I’ve done a teaching presentation, and now I’m meeting with the hiring committee to present my job talk. This is when I talk about my research agenda, and explain what talents I will “bring to the department”. I can cross my toes, and name every single episode of Dawson’s Creek, but somehow, I don’t think those are the talents they’re looking for.
    “No, thank you, I’m fine.” When he leaves, I take out my notes and try some deep-breathing exercises. This won’t be so bad. I can talk forever about my research—
    “Hello!” A middle-aged woman with a seriously unfortunate case of horse-teeth comes in and introduces herself as Susan Scranton. She’s on the committee, and is the comparative politics scholar in the department. I vaguely recognize her name from some class I took first-year, so she must be well-published.
    “Are you enjoying your visit?” she asks, taking a seat beside me. I want to say ‘No, day-long interviews are hellish, and these stupid silver heels are pinching my pinkie toes something fierce,” but instead I smile pleasantly and we engage in some meaningless chit-chat until the rest of the committee arrives.
    “We all want to thank you for coming in to meet us, Lucy. Why don’t you come on up and tell us a little about yourself, and then we’ve got a few questions for you, okay?” Dr. Richards kind of reminds me of my Dad. I mean, if my Dad was older, and bald, and had an American accent.
    I stand up and try to sound confident as I launch into my prepared talk. I