I point to the strand of copper wire lying on the chem lab table in front of Chris. “That one’s next.”

As he hands it to me, our fingers touch briefly, and I feel a tingle of electricity. I glance sideways at him. Was it just me, or did he feel it, too? Copper is a strong conductor, after all. My gaze shifts across the room to Lindsay’s table, and I remind myself that Chris is off limits now. Last night, I officially accepted the job of whispering him and emailed her my first set of instructions. She should be sauntering over here any minute to carry them out.

“I’m secretly hoping the coconut water has the most electrolytes,” Chris says.

I blink. “What? You can’t root for the coconut water. Our hypothesis is that the Gatorade will win.”

He laughs. “It’s not a contest, Lexi. It’s an experiment.” He raises his voice. “And disproving a hypothesis is as valuable to scientific research as proving it, isn’t that right Ms. Gupta?”

“That is correct, Christian. A hypothesis is an educated guess. There would be no point in conducting the experiment if there weren’t a chance your guess could be wrong.”

I raise my eyebrows at Chris. “Well, my hypothesis is that I’m going to double-check your results sheet to make sure you don’t cheat.”

“And my hypothesis is that you’d double check my results sheet anyway.”

“Touché. Here, hold this for me.” I hand Chris a pen cap and start wrapping the copper around it. “So now I’m going to triple-check them. The coconut water? Seriously? You’re a traitor.”

Chris shrugs. “I like coconut water better than Gatorade. So shoot me.”

I aim my finger at him and pull the trigger.

“Whoa, am I interrupting something?” Lindsay appears at his side. “You look like you’re ready to go evil on Chris’s ass.”

I assume she means medieval, but I refrain from correcting her and transform my scowl into a smile. “No, no. A mild flesh wound to the shoulder would suffice.”

But Lindsay has already moved on and is ignoring me. She has her hand wrapped around Chris’s bicep. “Can you help us with something? Allison and I are trying to figure out how to measure the pH of lemonade, but we can’t figure out how to read the results.”

Chris nods toward the pen cap still in his hand. “Um. Well, we’re kind of in the middle of—”

“Go.” I grab the cap from him. “It’s fine. I’ve got this.” I resist the urge to wink at Lindsay. Sometimes pretending I have no idea what’s going on when in fact I’ve orchestrated the entire scene is the hardest part of being the Boyfriend Whisperer. I hate that Lindsay thinks I’m oblivious right now. Especially when this plan was such a stroke of genius.

I watch as she and Allison huddle on either side of Chris and explain their lemonade dilemma. My aborted email to Jolene the other night gave me the idea. The two of them are secretly testing whether wearing perfume with pheromones makes guys more attentive. Assuming they followed my instructions, Lindsay should be wearing the perfume and Allison should be wearing nothing more than a splash of lavender water.

As experiments go, it’s horrible, actually, because Allison isn’t the greatest control. She’s plainer than Lindsay and a bit of a spaz. But, hey, I’m guaranteeing a boyfriend here, not a chem grade.

Whether to my satisfaction or dismay—I can’t decide—the experiment appears to be working. Chris is leaning much closer to Lindsay as he explains how to read the litmus strips. Boy is brilliant at chemistry, and I have to say, listening to him talk about hydrogen ions over there is pretty sexy. Or would be if he weren’t a mark for one of my clients, which he is. In fact, he appears to be a very willing mark, which means it’s entirely possible that my goal of getting the two of them together in time for Valentine’s, which is only four days away, is not entirely unrealistic, and isn’t that a cheering thought?

My fingers reach the end of the wire, snapping me back to the task at hand. Shoot. I’ve wrapped way too much around this stupid pen cap.

“Is that what you want to do to me?” Chris slides back onto his stool and points to the tangle of wire as I begin unraveling it.

“What do you mean?”

“Strangle me? Listen, Lexi, if it makes you feel any better, I’m good either way. Coconut water or Gatorade. It’s no big—”

“What? No. That’s not it.”

He looks from my face to the pen cap and back, clearly skeptical. “Then what?”

“It’s … It’s nothing. I read the instructions wrong; that’s all. I thought I was supposed to wrap the whole thing around. Anyway, never mind me. What’s up with those two?” I nod toward Lindsay and Allison.

Chris shrugs and lowers his voice. “No idea. Apparently, they’re trying to measure the acidity of a bunch of different liquids, but when I asked them about it, neither of them could tell me what the point is or what they’re trying to prove. I don’t think they know what they’re doing.”

I steal another glance at Lindsay with her meticulously applied lipstick, her short-short jean skirt, and her too-tight top. She smiles, gives Chris a breezy wave, and mouths, “Thank you.”

Au contraire, mon frère. That chick knows exactly what she’s doing.