When Lucas happens to have the upper hand, he tends to gloat, and I’ve found that I can use this overconfidence to my advantage. The difficulty is knowing when an opportunity presents itself to flip the script. So, like a vengeful boy scout, I come prepared.
The next morning, I arrive to work twenty minutes before the rest of the office with a duffel bag full of ammunition. I brew coffee—the hazelnut blend, Lucas’ secret guilty pleasure. Once the aroma has saturated the hallway, I go into my office, unzip the bag, and extract five things: a tray of lemon poppy seed muffins, a sexy workout outfit, a stopwatch, and two Rubik’s Cubes. My plan is as follows:
After the last patient leaves, I’ll microwave the homemade muffins so that they’re soft and warm. Some people might have put laxatives in them—not me. I just made them extra fucking delicious. While they’re nuking, I’ll shimmy into my tight tank top and spandex shorts. I don’t know if Lucas has a heart, but thanks to a fateful pantsing incident in middle school, I know he is a man. The microwave will ding. Lucas will take those first few bites (he cannot resist lemon poppy seed), and then I will stroll out as if I’m on my way to the gym.
“Are those Rubik’s Cubes?” he’ll ask.
I’ll act surprised by his sudden interest in little ol’ me.
“Oh, you mean these? I found them on the sidewalk this morning. I’ve never seen them before in my life.”
“That makes sense,” he’ll say, swallowing the lies hidden in my Trojan horse of baked goods. “And what’s with the getup?”
He’ll pretend to be disinterested, but his Adam’s apple will bob and he will steal quick glances down my body. He’ll realize too late that I’m watching him, and when he urges his eyes back up to meet mine, I’ll slowly tug on the dark lanyard hanging around my neck and extract a retro stopwatch from my cleavage. Finally, I’ll toss him a cube.
“I was just about to go donate these to an afterschool program for at-risk youth, but before I do, care for a quick game?” I’ll ask sweetly.
By game I’ll mean contest—not that it’ll be much of one. The moment I finish that Rubik’s Cube before him, he’ll be the one on the ropes. Nothing unsettles Lucas more than losing. Balance will be restored.
The sound of the office’s back door breaks me out of my daydream and panic momentarily sets in before I hear Dr. McCormick’s office door creak. There’s still time to gather myself before I see Lucas.
Still, I don’t get it together.
I almost give away my intentions all morning. My diabolical plan seeps from my pores.
“You are way too cheerful, even for a Friday,” Lucas tells me when we’re going over the chart for our first patient. “Did your friend from the dating event finally call?”
The need to participate in the real world snaps me out of my villainous scheming. “Lucas, you do realize that the only thing sadder than being at a small-town dating event is lurking around outside of one, right?”
My rebuttal gets him off my back for a little while, but he’s still suspicious.
“You’re smirking again,” he says just before lunch.
“Am I?”
“Yes. Like the Cheshire cat.”
Just then, Mariah comes around the corner. For the last week I’ve plied her with smiles, frappucinos, and the promise of a raise as soon as I take over for Dr. McCormick. She fits snugly in my pocket.
“The patient in room two is ready to see you, Dr. Bell.” She beams.
“Perfect,” I reply with an appreciative smile. “Thank you, Mariah.”
I tap, tap on the door for exam room two and walk in, leaving Lucas in my wake.
I know my happiness is throwing him for a loop—his Type A brain short-circuits at the thought of juicy information being kept from him. All afternoon, I get to enjoy how worked up my silence gets him. He won’t stop flicking his eyes over to me during the exams. I can feel him guessing at what I might be hiding and trying to uncover my motives with his eyes. My mysterious smiles are a warning shot. As he sees his final patient, I prepare the uppercut by heating the muffins and slipping into spandex. I hum a little tune as I do it. I’m shaking with excitement. The image of his face when I beat him at the Rubik’s Cube will sedate me for days, if not weeks.
“Dr. Bell?”
It’s Mariah again, on the other side of my office door, hesitant to enter.
“Come in!” I nearly sing the words like a Disney character. If I knew lyrical choreography, I’d break into it.
“Woah! Dr. B…”
When I glance over my shoulder, Mariah stands in the doorway, eyes wide at my getup. After ten seconds, her heterosexual eyes have still not left my cleavage. Lucas will pee himself.
“What’s up?”
Her mouth hangs open. She closes it and shakes her head. “Dr. Thatcher needs your help—”