Imperfect Chemistry (6 page)

“To the left!” Ted says again lifting his drink in a toast, and we all wait while Bethany kisses Freya on the cheek.

“Prudes!” Ted yells.

“You really want to see that?” Freya asks.

Ted shrugs. “Maybe.”

Then it’s my turn.

“Take off your clothes and run around the block naked,” I read aloud after gently sliding a block from the tower.

I look up at the people around the table who are all watching me expectantly. “It’s very cold outside,” I say.

“Boooo!” Ted says while Freya and Bethany laugh. Even Jensen gives a low chuckle next to me.

“Also, I could be arrested for indecent exposure.” I place the block gently on the top of the tower.

“Oh geez, just take off your shirt and stay in here,” Bethany suggests.

That seems like a reasonable alternative. “Okay.” I pull my long-sleeved shirt over my head and throw it on the chair behind me.

There’s a beat of silence and then Ted gives off a low whistle. “Where is Lucy and what have you done with her?”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“I mean where have you been hiding that body, girl!”

I’m still a little bit confused about the point he’s trying to make. “I haven’t been hiding anything,” I tell him.

“Oh, leave her alone,” Freya tells Ted. She looks at me. “Since you’re always dressed like a nun he
incorrectly
,” she gives him a pointed look, “assumed you are a prude. He doesn’t know you like I do, therefore he doesn’t realize that even though you dress like an eighty-year-old woman, you are very scientific and a doctor and probably don’t give two hoots about nudity or anything else that the rest of us puritans would think of as risqué.”

I nod. “Okay. But I’m not really nude.” I gesture to the white bra I’m wearing. It’s nothing fancy, plain white cotton.  “And I don’t really understand modesty. We have no control over the way our bodies are put together, and we are all basically the same.”

“Very profound, Spock,” Bethany intones.

“Spock doesn’t say profound stuff, that’s Yoda,” Ted tells her.

“Whatever. She’s more Spock-like. All logical and stuff.”

“True that is,” Ted says in a strange, higher pitched yet gravelly voice.

They dissolve into giggles. I’m not entirely sure what they’re talking about, but I can’t help smiling at their antics and exuberant bursts of laughter.

I turn towards Jensen and see that his gaze is fixated somewhere below my fa
ce. “It’s your turn.”

His eyes fly to mine
. “Right.”

I’m confronted with his profile while he’s pulling his block and I take the time to appreciate his strong jaw. There’s a slight flush creeping up his neck.

What does that mean? Is he embarrassed that I caught him staring at my chest? I don’t see why. It’s a normal male reaction when confronted with a scantily clad female in such close proximity. Even if I were considered grossly overweight or unattractive, he would still be curious, as would any other male in this predicament. Except perhaps Ted.

“Draw something on the person to your left,” Jensen reads from the block he pulled.

“Left again? Who made this game?” Ted asks.

“You did,” Freya and Bethany say at the same time.

“Draw something on her boob,” Bethany suggests.

“No way!” Ted says with an exaggerated grimace. “Her face has been done, though. Draw on her arm,” he orders and hands him a black sharpie.

I scoot around to rest my elbow on the table and Jensen takes a drink of his beer before pulling the cap off the marker.

He wraps one hand around my bicep to hold me in place before he presses the marker to my skin. H
is fingers are slightly chilled—from being outside recently and from holding a cold beer—causing goose bumps to race over my skin.

“Is that okay?” he asks in a low voice. The others aren’t paying attention to us. They’re talking and laughing, and their voices seem to have melted a little into the background.

“Your fingers are cold.”

“Oh, sorry.” He pulls his hands back and blows into them, rubbing them together before returning to his drawing position. The marker glides gently over my arm and his hand is now slightly warmer on my bicep.

“You’re stronger than you look,” Jensen says, gently squeezing my arm.

“I enjoy archery
.”

“That’s an interesting hobby.”

“It requires strength and precision.”

“And no social interaction. A very solitary pursuit.”

I never really thought about it before, but he’s correct.

Jensen finishes, pulling away from me and handing the now capped marker back to Ted. I look down at my arm. It’s a butterfly, and I’m not sure how he made something so intricate so quickly and with nothing more than a black sharpie. There are accents on the wings as well as swirls around the butterfly, almost making it appear in motion.

“Wow, that’s really good,” Freya says. Bethany and Freya lean over the table to get a closer look and I hold up my arm for inspection.

“Why a butterfly?” Ted asks.

Jensen glances at me before turning back towards him and answering. “I don’t know. It just felt right.”

Freya is raising her eyebrows at me and Bethany and Ted are throwing each other weird looks, and I’m not really sure what’s happening.

“So,” Freya says. “Ted’s turn!”

Ted pulls his block and reads aloud, “Make sweet, sweet love to a rutabaga.”

“Ted!” Bethany and Freya yell at the same time and Beth throws a pillow from my couch at his head.

Later, after we’ve played a few more rounds and we’ve all put our clothes back on, Freya is helping me clean up the leftover food in the kitchen.

“Sorry we didn’t get around to talking about plan B tonight.” She hands me a plate she’s just cleaned. I dry it and put it away in the cupboard. I don’t have a dishwasher.

Laughter from the living room makes me look over the counter. Bethany and Ted are arguing about something again and making Jensen laugh.

“That’s okay. I had fun.” I’m surprised to discover I’m speaking the truth. I never have fun around people; I’m usually itching to run away and be alone. But perhaps smaller groups are less overwhelming and the fact we are at my house likely adds to my comfort levels.

“We can get together for lunch later this week and come up with a new plan?” she asks, handing me a cup.

“Yes. That sounds good.”

“A plan for what?” Jensen is in the doorway, holding a dirty bowl. Freya takes it from him and dumps it in the sink full of suds.

“A plan for getting her grant back on track since you wussed out on her,” Freya answers. She’s smiling, but Jensen isn’t.

“It’s no big deal.
” I don’t want to create any tension.

“Oh. Right,” he says. He runs a hand through his hair and an expression of concern flickers over his face so quickly, I wonder if I saw it at all because in the next second he’s smiling at us. “Well, thanks for having me over, it was fun.”

“You’re heading home?” Freya asks.

“Yep.”

We exchange goodbyes then he grabs his coat off the rack and heads out the door.

Freya hands me a clean bowl. I dry it and open the cupboard to put it away.

“Seriously, Lucy, what the hell are we going to do now?” she asks.

I can’t help but smile. Sure, I have no idea how I’m going to come up with a viable experiment on emotions, but I’m not worrying about it on my own. Just the ‘we’ in Freya’s sentence makes me feel like everything will be okay. Eventually.

If you want something, and really work hard, and take advantage of opportunities, and never give up, you will find a way.

–Jane Goodall

“This’ll be much easier if you do it my way.” Freya is standing in my room, holding a dress that has less fabric than a t-shirt.

“No,” I say resolutely.

“Come on!” She shakes it in my direction.

“No.”

“Fine. But don’t blame me when this doesn’t work.” She throws the article of clothing onto my bed.

“I don’t need to dress like that to get what I want. As a matter of fact, that will send the exact opposite message than the one I’m going for.”

“Okay, but for the love of all that’s holy, will you please wear something other than a business suit?”

“But this sends the message I want. What I’m offering is a business proposal.”

She goes into my closet and comes out with a handful of clothes. “Compromise. This is more than a business proposal. You also need someone you’re attracted to and they won’t return the sentiment if you look like a woman of strict morals. How about a pair of jeans with a nice top and boots? No slacks, no blazer.”

It’s a fair settlement. “Fine.”

An hour later, we’re outside a nightclub. Freya is still grumbling because I didn’t let her cover my face in junk. I did make another concession and now the only makeup I have on is a small amount of lip gloss.

She knows the bouncer—a very large, very tattooed bald man dressed all in black—and in less than a few minutes, we’re inside the dark cavernous space with the pulsating lights and loud music. It vaguely reminds me of the frat party, but this time at least I have an expert with me. She pulls me around the dance floor to an elevated area that has a variety of couches, chairs and tables. A group of people sit in a circular booth and that’s where she leads me.

When we approach, a tall, lanky guy with shaggy, light brown hair stands to greet her.

“Hey, babe,” he says, kissing her on the cheek. When he turns his face, I see he has a black eye and his cheek is swollen.

We slide into the booth, Freya first so she can sit next to her friend.

“Lucy, this is Cameron,” she introduces him. She has to yell over the loud music.

My eyes fly to her face. “
The
Cameron?”

He laughs. “My girl’s been talking about me?” He wraps an arm over her shoulder. Just then, the guy on his right asks him something and he turns his face away from us to answer, giving me a clear shot of the bruising on his face.

Freya leans towards me. “Don’t judge me,” she whispers.

I’m confused by the statement. “Why would I do that?”

She sighs. “Ted and Bethany aren’t here because I didn’t tell them about it.”

“I thought they had to study.”

“Only you would believe that excuse.” She shakes her head at me, but she’s smiling. “The truth is that Cameron and I got back together, and they don’t all exactly get along.”

“Why not?”

“Cameron likes to gamble, and he’s sort of wild, and the whole cheating on me thing, you know.” She shrugs. “He didn’t like me hanging out with them so much. He thinks they’re judgmental bitches.”

I consider her statement and run through my possible responses before answering. My first thought is that Cameron is exhibiting controlling and manipulative behavior. It’s common in abusive relationships for the abuser to attempt and isolate the victim from others who care about them, but I don’t think this is the proper place for that conversation, and perhaps I am over-analyzing or reading too much into the situation.

“I don’t think they would be angry at you,” I tell her. “I think they would only be concerned for your well-being.”

“I’m sure you’re right, I’m just not ready for the lectures, yet.”

“Freya?”

“Yeah?”

“What about the, uh, black eye and…” I gesture to the side of my face and then look pointedly at Cameron’s injuries.

I very clearly remember our first conversation in the clinic. Freya mentioned, albeit in passing, that there was a person on campus she wished to compensate in exchange for causing physical pain upon Cameron’s person. But she didn’t actually…?

“Oh, right, that.” She bites her lip and avoids my gaze.

“You didn’t.”

“I sort of did.” She leans closer to me, whispering in my ear. “The mob boss guy, I know he’s like a thug and stuff, and it was totally wrong for me to hire him to beat up Cameron, but he was kinda hot and I wasn’t going to go through with it but then it just happened.”

“Freya!”

She groans. “I know, shhh, don’t say anything, okay? He doesn’t know I had anything to do with it.” She gives me a mournful expression. “What was I supposed to do? He had this whole Thor thing going on, and I don’t usually find guys with long hair attractive, but…”

I shake my head at her, and before she can continue, the waitress comes over and someone orders a round of drinks. As she’s leaving I stop her and order a glass of water.

Once she’s gone, Freya leans into me again. “But we’re not here to discuss me. We’re here for you. Do you see anything you like?” She gestures to the table around us. There’s mostly guys, a few girls.

I glance at them, but I feel uncomfortable. This isn’t really what I wanted to do, but it’s the best option we could come up with for now.

“Well?” she asks when I’ve been silent for a minute.

“I’m not sure.”

My gaze leaves the variety of available guys at our table and moves around the club. From our vantage point, we can see the bar and we overlook the dance floor. It’s difficult to make out people on the dance floor because it’s mostly dark, but the occasional burst of light reveals faces and bits of the dancers. The bar is better, with lights running underneath the clear surface that exposes the faces of the people crowded around it.

My eyes stop on a guy leaning against the bar and talking to a couple of ladies next to him.

I nudge Freya.

She leans into me. “Yeah?”

“I think I found someone.” I point towards the bar. “There, in the white t-shirt.”

“With the dark hair?”

“Yes.”

She laughs. “You would pick that guy.”

“Do you know him?”

Before she can answer, the waitress returns with the shots for everyone. She didn’t bring my water and I don’t have the opportunity to remind her. A shot is placed in front of me, and I nudge it over to Freya. She takes hers with everyone else at the table and then drinks mine as well.

I can’t help but notice that Cameron gives her a slight scowl when he sees her taking the extra shot, but he catches me looking and smiles smoothly.

I nudge Freya with my arm. “You know him?”

“That’s Jensen’s cousin,” she tells me, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

“No!”

“Yes!” She’s laughing.

“But that’s…” I shake my head. “The odds of that are extremely unlikely.”

“And yet it’s still true. And let me tell you, Jensen is a better choice. His cousin is sort of a douche.”

“What does that mean?”

“He’s a total player.”

“You said Jensen is a total player, too,” I remind her. “And my observations indicate otherwise.”

“Well, even if Jensen does sleep around, he’s nursing a broken heart. He has a good reason to be walking the wild side. Dominic is, like, a tenth-level douchebag. He’s so evil he doesn’t have a reflection.”

“Well. I find him attractive, and therefore I am going to use him to suit my needs.”

She laughs again. “You go girl.”

I nod and then scoot to the end of the booth.

“You’re going now?” she asks.

“No time like the present. Besides, the waitress didn’t bring my water.”

“Good luck, be safe and I’ll be here if you need anything.” She gives me a quick, one-armed hug before I stand and head to the bar.

I maneuver through the crowd so that I end up next to Dominic at the bar. At this distance, I can see he’s not as attractive as Jensen, but there is something there. Maybe it’s the nose.

I stand there for a minute, waiting to get the attention of the bartender, but he doesn’t see me. As a matter of fact, his eyes seem to roam over me whenever he’s looking in my general direction, despite my frantic waving.

Finally, when he’s close enough to hear me, I yell, “Excuse me!”

He blinks and focuses on me. About time. “Can I please get a glass of water?”

He sighs and looks bored, but complies.

I smile and take my glass. My yelling seems to have garnered some attention. When I turn my focus to the man at the bar next to me, I see he’s already looking in my direction.

“You’re a bit of a spitfire, aren’t you?” Dominic asks.

My smile grows. He sounds like Jensen, that deep gravelly voice. I like that.

“I’m not sure,” I answer truthfully. “I wanted water and he was ignoring me.”

“That’s what you get for not wearing something more revealing,” he smiles and nods at my cleavage—or lack thereof—and I start to grasp what Freya meant by douchebag.

“I like it,” he continues. “It’s refreshing. This place is a total meat-market.”

My opinion fluctuates. Maybe Freya is wrong about Dominic like she was wrong about Jensen. He seems honest, at least.

“I’m Lucy.” I stick
out my hand.

“Dominic,” he says. He shakes my hand and holds it a bit longer than is considered appropriate.  “What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?”

“I’m glad that you asked, actually. I’m conducting research.”

“What kind of research?”

“Lucy?” A voice behind me asks. I turn and there’s Jensen. “What are you doing?” he asks. His gaze flips to Dominic and then back at me.

“Hey
cous! Didn’t expect to see you here. I always invite you, but you never actually show,” Dominic reaches for Jensen, wrapping his arms around his neck in what might be a hug, but could also be a choke hold. “I thought you were off the market for good, man!” He releases his neck and then rubs his knuckles on his head, a move that Jensen quickly tries to swipe away. “That chick really fucked you up,” Dominic says. “This is exactly why I don’t do relationships, man. Ninety-nine problems, yanno? What brings you here? Gotta hottie on the line?”

“Right,” Jensen says, shrugging out of Dominic’s hold.  “I came because Freya invited me,” he says to me.

“Freya, huh? She hot?” Dominic asks.

Jensen ignores him. “Lucy?”

I know that he wants me to answer his original question.

I shrug. “Plan B?”

His eyes widen, eyebrows lifting, and then he’s shaking his head. “No. No. No way. This is not happening.”

“What are you guys talking about?” Dominic asks.

Jensen grabs my hand and tugs gently, leading me away from the bar and from Dominic. I suppose I could resist, but I don’t really want to.

“I’m sorry!” I call out over my shoulder to Dominic, who looks perplexed. “It was nice meeting you!” And then he disappears behind a wall of people.

“Where are you taking me?” I ask Jensen, but he’s not looking at me. He’s watching where he’s going and the music is too loud for my voice to carry. We weave through the dance floor, around bodies grinding against each other, through the scents of various colognes, sweat and booze, and out the front door into the frigid night.

Once we’re a little away from the line of people, he stops and turns, releasing my hand and facing me. “You can’t ask Dominic what you asked me. You can’t…proposition him.”

“Why not?”

“Because he’s an ass.”

“He’s your cousin,” I point out.

“I know.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Doesn’t change anything.”

I consider my response before speaking. “All I need is to talk to someone. Ask some personal questions. I don’t have much time. I’m wasting time, as we speak. Do you have any other suggestions?”

He stares at me for a beat and the tension between us rises. He can read between the lines. If he can’t help me, I’ll find someone who will.

“No,” he says finally.

“Okay.
Thank you for your concern. I’m going back inside.” Turning away from him, I head back towards the club.

I make it five steps. “Wait.”

“Yes?” I stop, but I don’t turn around.

“Okay. I’ll do it. Just please, don’t ask Dom. He’ll totally take advantage of you and then I’ll have to kick his ass.”

I turn around. “You would do that?” Unbelievable. Someone other than one of my brothers would hurt someone for me. That’s new.

“Well, yeah,” he says. “I’ve never,” he pauses for a brief moment and his words come haltingly, “met anyone quite like you.”