The Gravity of Us (Elements #4)(47)

“I’m sorry, I just…” She walked into my office and sat on the edge of my desk. “G.M. Russell is joining the world of Tinder…I knew it felt a little cold in the house.”

“Huh?”

“I mean, when I first met you, I figured you were the devil, which meant your home was hell, which means with it now being cold that—”

“Hell has finally frozen over. Clever, Lucille.”

She reached for my cell phone and started trying to unlock it. “Can I see your photos?”

“What? No.”

“Why not? You do know Tinder is like…a hookup site, right?”

“I’m fully aware of what Tinder is.”

Her cheeks reddened and she bit her bottom lip. “You’re trying to get laid, eh?”

“Professor Oliver is convinced my writing is suffering from the fact that I haven’t had sex in a while to loosen myself up. He thinks I’m uptight.”

“What?!” she gasped. “You?! Uptight?! No way!”

“Anyway, he’s one hundred percent wrong about the manuscript. It’s good.”

She rubbed her hands together, giddy. “Is it? Can I read it?”

I hesitated, and she rolled her eyes.

“I’m your biggest fan, remember? If I don’t love it, you’ll know Ollie was right. If I do love it, you’ll know you’re right.”

Well, I did love to be right.

I handed her the chapters, and she sat reading, her eyes darting back and forth over the pages. Every now and then she’d glance at me with a concerned look. Finally, she finished and cleared her throat. “A lion?”

Shit.

I rolled my eyes. “I need to get laid.”

“Take off your tie, Graham.”

“Excuse me?”

“I need you to unlock your phone and take off your tie and the suit jacket. No girl who is trying to have sex is in search of a man with a freaking suit and tie on. Plus, you buttoned the top button on your shirt.”

“It’s classy.”

“It looks like your neck has a muffin top.”

“You’re being ridiculous. This is a custom-made designer suit.”

“You rich people and your labels. All I hear is that it’s not a penis, and therefore it eliminates your opportunities to get laid. Now, unlock your phone and take off the tie.”

Annoyed, I followed her orders. “Better?” I asked, crossing my arms.

She grimaced. “A little. Here, unbutton the top three buttons on your shirt.”

I did as she said, and she nodded, taking photographs.

“Yes! Chest hair—women who are trying to get it on love some chest hair. It’s like the three little pigs; it has to be the right amount. Not too much, not too little, your hair is justtttt right.” She grinned.

“Have you been drinking again?” I asked.

She laughed. “No. This is just me.”

“That’s what I was afraid of.”

After taking some shots, she studied them with the biggest frown I’d ever seen. “Yeah, no. You have to take off your shirt completely.”

“What? Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not taking off my shirt in front of you.”

“Graham,” Lucy whined, rolling her eyes. “You have your shirt off every other day doing that kangaroo thing with Talon. Now shut up and take off your shirt.”

After some more arguing, I finally gave in. She even had me switch into dark black jeans—to “look more manly.” She started snapping photographs, telling me to turn left and right, to smile with my eyes—whatever that meant—and to be moody but sexy.

“Okay, one more. Turn to the side, drop your head a little, and slide your hands into your back pockets. Look as if you hate everything about me taking pictures of you.”

Easy enough.

“There,” she said, grinning from ear to ear. “Your pictures are now uploaded. Now all that’s left to do is perfect your bio.”

“No need,” I told her, reaching for my cell phone. “I already did that part.”

She raised an eyebrow, seeming unsure, and then went to read it. “New York Times bestselling author who has a six-month-old child. Married, but the wife ran away. Looking to hook up. Also, I’m five foot eleven.”

“Everyone seems to put their height. I guess it’s a thing.”

“This is awful. Here, I’ll fix it.”

I hurried over to her, standing behind to watch what she typed.

Looking for sex. I am a big dick.

“I think you meant I have a big dick,” I remarked.

She wickedly replied, “No, I meant what I wrote.”

I groaned and went to grab my phone.

“Okay, okay, I’ll try again!”

Looking for casual sex, no strings attached.

Unless you’re into being tied up.

Looking at you, Anastasia.

“Who’s Anastasia?” I asked.

Lucy tossed me my phone and laughed to herself. “All that matters is that the women will understand. Now all you have to do is swipe right if you find them attractive, left if you think they’re not. Then, just wait for the magic to happen.”

“Thank you for your help.”