Page 3 of Can't Fight It

“Me?” He holds a hand to his chest, faux affronted. “Never.”

I bite my lip to hold back a smile, remembering how nauseated he’d made himself after eating too many desserts at our holiday party. “Seriously,” I tell him. “We don’t want a repeat of last month. Everything needs to go perfect today.”

“Don’t get your panties in a wad,” he mutters, already chowing down on a piece. “Trust me. I’m completely prepared. How about you?”

I take a deep breath and recite my spiel. “Scalp, face, jaw, neck, shoulders, chest, arms, hands, stomach, back, butt, legs, feet.”

He grins, chocolate all over his two front teeth. “Now say that three times fast.”

Mia hands the container of fudge to me. “Be responsible with this,” she says with mock seriousness. “And text me later to let me know how everything goes.”

I can’t tell if she means it as a friend or because as a senior, Dr. Price assigned her to be our point person to reach out to if there’s any trouble with our study. Tyler is the point person for the two other juniors running their study this semester.

Either way, I nod, faking my confidence in front of her. “I’ve got this.” I waggle my thumb between me and Joel. “We’ve got this,” I amend.

She smiles. “I know you do. And I told you your last guy of the day is Tyler’s gym buddy, right?”

I grab my roster off the desk. “Austin? I’ll be extra nice to him.”

“Do the Stress Lab proud,” she says, exiting the room.

Without her, my faith wanes until Joel rests a steady hand on my shoulder, his gaze earnest. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

I let out a slow breath, releasing the tension lingering in my shoulders. “Yeah, of course.”

“I’ll be right next door if you need help.”

I shrug off his hand, rolling my eyes as I adjust the participant’s chair. “Like I’m going to interrupt your meditation session.”

“I’m just saying you can if you have to.”

“And mess up the study? Yeah, right. We’ve only got a fifteen-minute cushion before Noah and Chris need our rooms.”

He blows out a breath, sticking his hands in his pockets. “Listen, I was thinking afterward we could—”

There’s a knock on the door and then Kelly, the Stress Lab’s receptionist, pokes her head in. “Your first participant is here, Joel.”

He nods, but makes no motion to leave. “Great. Thanks.”

I pick up my script for one last run-through before my own participant shows up. “Were you going to say something?” I ask, half my mind already on running through the applied relaxation sequence I’m teaching everyone today.

“Oh, um, no.” He shuffles his feet long enough to have me glancing at him, nervousness crossing his features. “I’ll catch you later.”

He speeds past me and out the door. Must be more anxious than he let on.

I finish going over my notes and head into the lobby to wait by Kelly’s desk, smoothing my palms down the front of my jeans.

I’ll do fine. This is what I’ve been waiting for. Dr. Price picked two studies out of all the juniors who applied and mine is one of them. That has to count for something.

The nerves leave me as a girl I recognize from a class last semester walks in with a smile on her face. That’s why the name looked familiar on the roster sheet.

I lead her down the hall and into the room, going over the informed consent form and then guiding her through the procedure of progressive muscle relaxation.

This is where I’m in my element. I don’t know why I was so nervous earlier.

The time flies as I run through my first five participants, my mind relaxed as I head back down the hall to wait for my last one of the day. I hope Joel’s sessions have gone as well as mine.

As I reach the waiting area, though, the loose, easy feeling inside me tightens as I spot a familiar head of dark blond hair turned away from me.

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