Imperfect Chemistry

When I update Freya regarding what occurred over the weekend, she lets out a high-pitched squeal so loud that my ears ring and everyone within a fifty-yard radius turns in our direction.

  When she stops, I blink at her. “You sound like a rape whistle.” The student union hands them out the first week of every semester.

  “I’ll take that as a compliment,” she says.

  We’re walking through the quad. Freya wanted to go to lunch, but I promised Dr. Heinrich I would help him with his Advanced Molecular Genetics lab. He has a few graduate students who need assistance. Freya agreed to accompany me to the Davidson Science Center.

  “He’s so into you,” she gushes.

  Perhaps I shouldn’t have told her about my first training session with Jensen.

  “I don’t think so,” I say. “He specifically stated he wants us to be friends.”

  “Yeah, friends who make out!”

  I frown. “Do friends do that?”

  “No, idiot!” We walk around a group of guys playing Frisbee. “He’s probably going the friend route since you totally freaked out on him after you guys kissed.”

  “I did not ‘freak out’.”

  “Did you or did you not break contact, and then thank him,” she says the last two words with disdain, “and then basically force him to leave?”

  “I did not coerce him into anything. He left of his own volition.”

  “So you admit to the first two allegations?”

  Despite Freya’s frivolous language and playful manner, she may actually be a good lawyer someday.

  “Well, yes,” I admit.

  She gives a satisfied smile. “See? He’s making you think you’re friends. Lulling you into a false sense of complacency. Before you know it, you’ll wake up one morning married with two-point-five kids and his and her BMWs.”

  “That’s not likely.”

  “Don’t like kids?” she asks.

  “Don’t like BMWs,” I say.

  “Lucy!” She gasps and stops walking, placing her hand on my arm. “Was that a joke?”

  I give her a small smile. “Maybe. I think you’re rubbing off on me.”

  We’ve reached my building. I stop at the intersection of the sidewalk and face Freya.

  “We’ll make a normal person outta you yet!” she says. “So, I’ll be over on Saturday at five to help you get ready.” She’s nodding at me with raised eyebrows.

  I shake my head. “That’s not necessary.”

  “Yes. It is. It really is. No arguing!” She points at me like I’m a miscreant child and then after a big, goofy grin, she takes off, scurrying down the sidewalk and away before I can formulate a response. I have the sneaking suspicion she’s getting to know me pretty well and I’m surprised to discover that I don’t hate it.

  ***