Call Me

by Gillian Jones

  “Oh Jesus. I’d pay to hear that call,” I say, packing up my bag and slinging it over my shoulder, having realized we’d better get moving if we’re going to be on time for class.

  “Please let me be paired with Jax, please let me be paired with Jax…” Court repeats the little prayer over and over as we walk towards our thesis seminar.

  Today, Professor Ryan is supposed to be matching us with the Teaching Assistant who will be helping to guide us as we work on our thesis papers. Courtney has made it more than clear who she wants. I, on the other hand, could care less who I’m paired with. Other than Professor Ryan being one of the best mentors to have, I’ve heard nothing but good things about Jax, Sam, and Joelle too, and that’s the same impression I had after listening to them speak at our last meeting. In the end, I’m fine with whomever I get. At least that’s what I keep trying to tell myself anyway. Deep down, a part of me hopes to be under Doctor Ryan’s tutelage, and not only for educational purposes, either. It’s getting harder to deny that I’m not completely attracted to the man, and Court never stops reminding me of that fact, either.

  “Please, please, pleeeease. Let me be paired with Jax,” Court chants again.

  “Why Jax? What’s wrong with the others?” I finally need to know.

  “Els, have you seen the man? He is delish. And seeing as the professor is already taken, I might as well go for the next best thing. Jax is the second-in-command. And, boy, would I let him command me. Not that I like him or anything.”

  I both cringe and laugh at her comment. “Sure you don’t,” I say. “I was wondering why you wanted to sit up front. And here I was, thinking that it was just you trying to show off your big brain. You just wanted a better view of Jax, maybe get him to notice you. Um-hmm,” I tease, nudging her.

  “No. I sit us up close so that you can keep the apple of your eye front and centre. I know what a smitten kitten you are.”

  Kitten. “Daddy” and Kitten. Ugh. “Yeah, right,” I say, suppressing a shiver. “You wish.”

  “Aahaha, you wish, Els. Just admit it. And admit you want to be in his teaching group, too.” she smirks.

  I know Court’s paying extra attention to the way Professor Ryan and I eye each other. She’s been relentless in her teasing about us getting ready to have some kind of torrid love affair. She does all she can to make sure he and I notice each other. Thanks to her, we have permanent seats right in front on Monday mornings. It seems my little sweetie of a bestie is willing to get up extra early to make sure my hot seat is always saved for me. For the past three Mondays, I’ve woken up to a note telling me that she’ll meet me in class. Isn’t she so helpful?

  “Don’t start. You know it’s not true. He’s my teacher. I bet he puts me with Joelle, or maybe even Jax. Stop seeing shit that’s not there.” I nudge her arm again, only harder. This has been my angle for weeks now. It’s all in her head, nothing to see here, move along.

  “Oh, it’s there. You’re just being obtuse,” Courtney smirks back.

  “I’m not going to sit with you if you keep being a jackass,” I huff, picking up my pace towards the seminar room.

  “All right, all right. I’ll stop. But let’s test my theory.”

  “I bet I don’t even want to hear this, do I?”

  “Let’s say we see if I’m right? That he totally is hot for student? And if I am, I get free rein to tease, bug, attempt to set up, and insinuate that you and that sexy mother of a professor will have a sordid love affair.”

  “Like losing would stop you.” I roll my eyes. “So, what’s this test of yours? How on earth are you going to prove this theory?” I ask, becoming annoyed.

  For the last three weeks, Courtney’s been on me that I should approach Ace and ask him out. She says he totally keeps spying on me. This I know is true, because he and I have this little staring game going on between us, as if we’re both waiting for the other to make the first move. But we both know we can’t, either, despite any attraction that might be there. I don’t want the man to be fired, after all. And I also don’t want to be known as that girl who fucks her way to an easy “A”.

  “I betcha a bazillion dollars you’re in the intriguing man-of-the-hour himself’s group. I bet he calls your name third, so as not to draw attention to it, but if we listen closely enough, we’ll hear his voice change when he calls out: ‘Ellie Hughes’,” she mocks, leading us into the already full room.

  “You’re delusional,” I whispercall, moving behind her to our seat, “you need to write and shoot a crazy romance movie to get your inner fantasies out.”

  “Okay, but only if you and your man are the stars, otherwise I’m out.”

  “Better yet, let’s get you hooked up with your own man so you can leave me alone. I’m going to go find Jax.” I turn to walk to the front.

  “Don’t you dare, Ellie,” she snaps.

  “Ohhh, what? Can’t take the heat? Aww, are you hot for TA?” I start humming the famous porno soundtrack: “Bow-chicka-wow-wow!”

  “I mean it, Ellie,” she says, looking around the room frantically.

  “What, you worried he’ll find out you wanna ‘boink’ him?” I laugh out loud, finally taking my seat.

  “Point, Hughes,” she scowls, slapping my arm, and I smile victoriously.

  Chapter 17

  Ace

  Watching Ellie and Courtney walk in, I know right away that I should have thought with my brain not my cock.

  But, opening my laptop, I still click ‘send’ on the mass email I’m distributing to each student, including a schedule with times and locations for the preliminary thesis meetings—among other housekeeping items—now that the thesis writing will be in full swing. Beginning next week, my team and I will meet with our student groups and hatch out a plan for the year. I might have switched Ellie around a few times, but in the end I left her in the best hands. My hands.

  Having recently graded their latest online assignments—the one where I ask the students to tell me about their favourite directors and justify their choices—I knew my decision about Ellie was the right one. As soon as I spotted that she was a Kubrick fan, as well as a Tarantino fan, I knew I needed to work with her. I’m eager to see where her thesis will take her. In the past, I’ve used this paper to help match the students with the TAs whose tastes in filmmakers are most compatible. I ask my TAs to write the same paper, then divide the students based on the likenesses.

  Say, for example, Jax. He’s my Francis Ford Coppola guy, so based on student responses, I pair the other F. F. Coppola, Martin Scorsese, Spike Lee and, of course, Sofia Coppola fans with Jax. As for Joelle, she’s my Ang Lee buff, so those listing Akira Kurosawa, The Wachowskis and Zhang Yimou are overseen by her. Sam, he’s my wild card, he loves every genre and lists Kathryn Bigelow as his all time fave. I’ve decided to pair the more eclectic film fans with him, so he’ll oversee those listing Noah Baumbach, Mira Nair, and M. Knight Shyamalan. As for me, my all time favourite director is impossible to name (like flavours of ice cream, it’s hard to pick just one…), therefore I love working with fans of Hitchcock, Tarantino, Kubrick, Ritchie, Wes Anderson, and other outside-the-box thinkers. I’ve found my system to be successful, even if it serves as little more than an icebreaker in initial meetings. Having something in common with the person who’s to guide you while you write one of the hardest assignments of your life is a good feeling. I’ve never had a TA/student pairing that didn’t work out, so until I do, I’ll keep using this method.

  Taking my spot in the room’s centre, I begin. “Today’s class will be our last as a large group until the end of the term. I’ll send an email later with our final meeting time. From this point on, you’ll be meeting solely with myself, Jax, Sam or Joelle—my outstanding team of TAs—and the other students in your assigned group. I’ve emailed the schedule for your first meeting time and place and will continue to send info weekly; therefore, it’s imperative that you check your inbox often. All meetings will take place on the specified
date without exception, please be sure to take note of yours.”

  Rhyming off the groupings, I avoid looking in Ellie’s direction, hoping to God that my naming her third when calling my group out didn’t make my intentional placement obvious. After a few beats, feeling it’s safe to see if she’s looking at me, I chance a look in her direction. My cock instantly nudges against my zipper, when I see Ellie’s breathtaking smile. Seeing who she’s laughing with, however, makes me see all kinds of red.

  Fucking Sam. He’s leaning down in front of her table, talking a little too closely for my liking, looking too intently for what’s appropriate. But it’s him making her laugh that’s pissing me off most. The urge to stomp my feet and yell “she’s mine!” like a child not getting his way begins to take root in my mind. I hate the way she’s giving away her smiles so easily to him; he’s probably thinking he stands a chance. Too bad, buddy, she’s already on my radar. I’ll be the one to claim everything she has to give. Smiles, laughs, moans, orgasms. Yeah, the goal is to collect them all.

  Mine.

  All mine.

  Jesus, I need to get a fucking grip, this chick is making me mental. I have to stop thinking this shit. She’s a student. My student.

  And she’s Sam’s student, essentially, too. So neither of us can have her.

  I nod, forcing myself to agree.

  Chapter 18

  Ellie

  Walking out of the women’s change room at the sports medicine gym, I decide that I better start coming more regularly since I was given a free pass. Plus my appointment to try and convince everyone I can still run is coming up in a few weeks. Truth is, between school, work—and the few weeks I wasted trying to find work—my misery over not getting to compete on the Varsity Blues has been the farthest thing from my mind. I’m adjusting my ear buds when I almost walk right into Dr. Robinson.

  “Oh jeez, sorry.” We both laugh as I right myself. “I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.” I raise the iPod clutched in my hand.

  “No problem, I saw you. Those things are dangerous. I keep telling my daughter to keep her head up when walking. Maybe you need to follow my advice too,” he says.

  “Clearly. They need a crash warning, for sure. Maybe airbags.”

  “They sure do. Anyway, how’s the knee doing, Ellie?” Dr. Robinson asks, smiling kindly.

  “It’s okay. I’ve been super busy but I’ve got things sorted, and I’ll be here at least four times a week going forward.”

  “Good, it’s all about strength training, keeping the knee joints active. It might not get you back on the track, but it may prolong the need for replacement. Make a few appointments with Doctor Reynolds if you want, tell him I sent you. Anyway, I’ll let you get to your workout, no need for you to listen to another one of this old man’s lectures. It’s good to see you, dear,” he says, patting my arm before walking into the change room.

  “See ya,” I reply, then walk onto the small gym floor, head down, rifling through my iPod to look for a movie I can listen to while I warm up on the treadmill. I know it’s weird, but while walking I like to listen to movie dialogue. I only like music when running and working through the circuit. Courtney tells me I’m crazy, I insist it’s just a fun visualization game I like to play. I try to see if I can picture the scenes without looking down at the screen. Hey, whatever, it passes the time.

  Moving through the tiny space, I nod at a few people I’ve seen from other Varsity Blues teams while making my way to a row of four treadmills. Stepping up, I choose a five kilometre loop, enter my weight, and settle my iPod on the equipment’s docking space. I’m about to tap “play” on the screen when a familiar scent kisses my nose. I shake it off as being my imagination, and continue looking for a good film. Scrolling through the list, I hem and haw until I hear it.

  It’s him.

  Professor Ryan. And for fork’s sake, he’s on the treadmill right beside me. How the hell didn’t I see him? He’s all tight-blue shirt stretching across his solid chest like Superman, five o’clock shadow making him look ruggedly handsome as he jogs, his legs moving in wide strides. The man is like chocolate—sweet and smooth-looking and I want him to go straight to my hips… Yep, Ace Ryan is chocolate.

  I see his green eyes zero in on me and then dip to my iPod. He’s not wearing his glasses, and holy hell do I want those intense eyes to come back and try to focus on me.

  “Choose that one,” he says. “It’s such a great movie. I love Tarantino.” He grins slightly, then a devilish smile forms on his handsome face when he glances back up my way. The term “Jell-O legs” is no longer lost on me. Gripping the sidebars of the treadmill, I steady myself.

  “Me too. I love him. He really is kick-ass, eh?”

  He laughs, “Yes, very ‘kick-ass’, Ellie.”

  My name on his lips is also very kick-ass. Is there a special catch phase for the feeling I’m getting in my girlie bits?

  “I can’t believe he remembers my name,” I say.

  Chuckling, he responds, “Of course I do. I remember a lot about you.”

  “Oops, I said that out loud…” I groan.

  “And that, too, was out loud.” He laughs harder.

  “I’m sorry. You make me nervous, Doctor Ryan,” I cover my mouth with my hand, “and honest, apparently.” I smile under my palm, beet red I’m sure.

  “It’s okay to call me Ace outside of class. Don’t be nervous. You’re too intelligent not to speak up, and there’s no way you can clam up on me now, we need to talk more Tarantino. I have so many questions.”

  “All right. What do you want to know?”

  “A lot, actually.” He looks at me, his eyes locking on mine for a second. Then he shakes his head as if talking himself out of something, but with every second I spend near him, I want him to talk himself back into whatever he was thinking “no” to. “First up, tell me: what’s your favourite Tarantino scene? Not film. Scene,” he asks, sounding pleased with his precise question.

  Moving the incline up to six, I contemplate my response as my knee registers a complaint at the increase in grade. “That’s a great question. Let me think.”

  “Right. I should write trivia questions in my spare time. Wait for the ones I have in store,” he jokes, and I realize how much fun I’m having working out right now. Or maybe it’s Ace I’m having fun with.

  I pause for a few beats, running through my favourite scenes. “Got it. ‘The Pub’ scene in Inglourious Basterds. It’s kick-ass. He gives us so much with that scene: characters, intensity, conflict, and…bam! You’re completely sucked in.”

  “Nice one. I concur, very kick-ass for any fan.” He grins and it’s beautiful, like seeing the coveted rainbow after the rain, the one you knew would be worth the wait.

  I decide to remove my ear buds, hopefully signalling that I want to keep talking, and tell him: “Your turn,” wiping my forehead with my towel. The last thing I want is to be a sweaty mess in Ace’s presence.

  “Now, the right answer, of course, is ‘Jack Rabbit Slims’ in Pulp Fiction, but the honest answer is ‘The Bride vs. The Crazy 88’ in Kill Bill, Vol. 1. That scene is bloody fantastic. ‘Kick-ass’, even,” Ace announces, excitement lacing his tone, and it’s contagious.

  “Oh my God, yes! That’s such an incredible scene. Nice one. It’s such a kick-ass female moment in an action movie, pure genius. And are you making fun of my ‘kick-asses’?” I tilt my head, taking him in.

  “Maybe a little. I like teasing you. You’ve got a cute blush,” he shrugs, like he hasn’t just rocked my world. “Seriously, though, the way Beatrix Kiddo spins on the floor wielding that samurai sword like a total badass…it’s epic. Honestly, one of the best kick-ass scenes ever.”

  “So, you thought it was pretty good, then, I guess?” I tease.

  “Hey, hey, guys can fanman as much as you ladies get to fangirl. I’m a complete movie buff so, yeah, I get carried away sometimes,” Ace says, wiping his face. A job I’d gladly volunteer to do with m
y shirt.

  “I love your excitement, no judgment here.” I wave my hand. “You get on with your bad self, your secret is safe with me.”

  “All right, E, what gets you passionate, excited?” he asks, and all I can think is you, and you calling me ‘E’. It’s personal, intimate. I want to hear it all the time. If I get to spend even another bit of time with you like this, it’s sure to be always be you.

  “Ellie? You okay?” Ace asks, eyeing my knee brace. “You need to slow down?”

  “No, sorry, I was thinking about your question. I zoned out, I guess. Okay, I’d say The Color Purple, and movies like The Notebook, The Godfather.”

  “Adaptations from novels are your thing, eh? I remember from class. But The Notebook? That one surprises me, if I can be honest.”

  “Yeah. I love them. The good ones—the ones where you sit holding your breath because they’ve managed to capture all the beauty of what the author intended you to see and feel. Gah, sorry, see my fangirling? And for the record, Mr. Cool, The Notebook was very well done, have to give credit where credit is due, right? Everyone needs some mushy stuff now and then, and that, Professor, is pure mushy goodness.”

  “I’ll take your word for it, but perhaps we can agree to disagree on that one,” he says laughing. “Will your thesis be about film adaptations?”

  “I can’t tell you. I have a week, still, before I have to reveal all,” I tease. Not because I’m not ready, because of course I am. But talking about school makes me realize how I’m enjoying being with my professor like this far too much, when the reality is, I shouldn’t be.

  “My apologies,” he says. “You’re right. We’re both off the clock and I’m ruining our fun.”

  “And I’m having a kick-ass time, Ace.” I give him a cheeky grin.

  We both laugh and continue to work out on the treadmills for what feels like hours. I smile inwardly, liking how it feels working out beside him, with his scent, his smile, the easiness of it. By the time we decide to stop working out, we realize we’d been talking on the treadmills for well over an hour, neither of us making it to any other piece of equipment.