Wanted By You

by Steph Nuss

  Laughing, he shook his head and went on his way in the opposite direction of the ogling women. After skipping high school and having the unusual experience of entering college at the age of fourteen, it was no wonder Justin was so shy with the ladies.

  * * *

  After his Sunday night shows were over, my dad shut the TV off, gathered the empty pizza box and the bottles of beer we emptied, and made his way to the trash can. Dad lived in a spacious penthouse on the Upper West Side that had four bedrooms, five baths, and an entertainment room with a theater and bar. One of the walls of the living room was lined with windows overlooking Central Park that let just the ideal amount of natural light into his place. The living room was done in dark grays and white. A massive flat screen TV sat above the fireplace and a glass trophy case lined another wall. The case held his Olympic medals as well as the college and high school trophies he received back in the day. He'd been a basketball player. Standing at six-five, he played for the University of Kansas and then went on to play for the Boston Celtics after graduation. Unfortunately, he tore his ACL during the 1992 Summer Olympics and decided to retire from basketball for good to pursue a career in sports commentating. He's been working for ESPN ever since.

  Sitting back down beside me on his couch, he threw an arm over my shoulder, and I finally found the courage to ask him the question that had been on my mind since seeing Richard with Gaby. "Have you ever thought about dating, Dad?"

  He sighed, looking down at me with amusement. "I hated dating back when I was young enough to date. What makes you think I'd want to date now?"

  "Didn't you and Mom date for a while, though?"

  "Yes, and I hated every minute of it," he laughed, exhaling a deep breath. "I knew the moment I met your mom in Dr. Herrman's class that she was the one. She just ignited something within me that nothing or nobody else could; not even basketball."

  Hearing him talk about Mom like that gave me chills. Every time he talked about her, he offered new, secret information about her that only he knew, and I relished it. I wanted that kind of love. The you-ignite-me, our-flame-will-never-go-out, I-know-you-better-than-I-know-myself love. But I knew better. I knew happily ever after only existed in fairy tales and Disneyland and in our imaginations, because eventually people die. My mom was diagnosed with breast cancer when I was eight years old. By then, it was too far along for her to benefit from any treatment, and about a year later, she died, making me throw every belief I ever had about happily ever after right out the window. I loved listening to Dad talk about her, but at times I found myself thinking he must be lonely without her.

  "I know how much you loved Mom. I just don't want you to be lonely. I'm sure being alone all these years hasn't been easy for you, but … I want you to be happy."

  Staring down at me, he smiled and tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear. "I'm not lonely and I am happy. When have I ever given you the impression that I'm otherwise?"

  "You haven't," I answered quickly. "Well, sometimes when you talk about her, I think you might be lonely, but I love hearing about her because you always give me a piece of her I didn't have before. But a person has needs. I mean, you don't need my permission to date or anything like that, but I want you to have fun, get laid, maybe take a vacation. Be happy with someone. I'm not asking you to move on from Mom, but female companionship is something you haven't had in a long time."

  Laughing at my stamp of approval, he shook his head and smiled. "I am happy. I'm not lonely, and I hate dating. It's not something a guy my age needs to be doing, okay?"

  "Okay, okay, I get it," I replied, clearly aware of how much he wanted to drop the subject.

  "Thank you," he teased, raising his eyebrows with a smug grin on his unshaven face. "And you're one to talk, miss psychologist. When's the last time you had a little male companionship?"

  "I am not talking about my love life with my dad," I insisted, scooting away from him on the couch. The birds and the bees talk back in high school put us through enough misery to last a lifetime. That day when he pulled out a banana and a condom will be forever imprinted on my brain, and the speech he gave when I first got my period was even worse. He tried to explain the side effects of leaving in a tampon too long and how my moods would change like he knew exactly what a menstrual cycle was like. Those days were absolutely mortifying. The last thing I wanted to talk to him about now was my sex life.

  I shouldn't have brought up the topic of dating with him. I knew he'd turn it around on me. All I wanted was for him to be happy with somebody because he didn't deserve to be alone, and here he was mocking me.

  "Well, you need to get out there, have fun, get laid, maybe take a vacation. Find someone who makes you happy," he mocked, smirking proudly.

  Tilting my head, I glared over at him and sighed. "Yeah, well, you don't need to mock your only daughter, and I am having fun. I love my life and my job and my friends and you. All that other stuff will happen when it happens."

  "Whatever, Elly," he muttered as he picked up a Sports Illustrated and started flipping through it. "A person has needs. Isn't that what you said?"

  "I am happy. Isn't that what any dad wants for his daughter: happiness?"

  He sighed, throwing his arm across the back of the couch and turning in my direction. He playfully pulled on my long ponytail and smiled. "Of course I want you to be happy, but I'm not going to be around forever. I need to know when my time comes that you're left in the hands of a good guy who'll love you like I loved your mom." The idea of one day losing him and having no family left was something I rarely thought about, but that was the circle of life, just like I learned a long time ago. He cradled my face in his hands so I'd look at him. "It's what your mom would want. She'd want you to worry about you for a change, instead of all your patients or your friends or me. You need to focus on you and your needs."

  Letting out a breath I wasn't aware I'd been holding, I nodded. He was absolutely right. I knew I worried too much about everyone else because they often told me so, but I couldn't help it. I enjoyed helping others—so much so that I hadn't even stopped to help myself. Maybe I did need a vacation. There were no maybes about whether or not I needed to get laid. I hadn't even thought about sex with a guy since Paige got me a vibrator for Christmas last year and that was more than a little disturbing. It's not like I used Wilson every day—yes, my battery-operated boyfriend was named Wilson—but relying on him was definitely less stressful than having to fake it with a guy who couldn't get me to the finish line himself. I could give myself a book full of excuses, but one thing was for sure: I needed to make some changes in my life.

  After visiting with my dad and hearing a similar rant from Mrs. J. earlier this morning when she left for church, it became apparent that I had somehow managed to park my life at the corner of Boring and Pathetic and that, sadly, it'd been idling there for years now. I needed to let go of my feelings for Carter Jennings and just move on already. Holding onto to him was pointless, especially if I met the same fate as my mom someday. He was the exception, the butterfly-giver, the one who got away, but who knew where he was or what he was doing—or if he was even still single. I needed to get out there and date and try breaking the spell he hocus-pocused me under during our college days. I knew sometimes the things we want in life aren't always the things we need, and the truth was I didn't need him. I was surviving just fine without him. Still, my heart knew it wanted and needed Carter.

  Good luck breaking that spell, Elly.

  Chapter Three

  Carter

  When Monday morning rolled around, I arrived an hour early to my first class with excitement running through my veins. I took a seat on the wooden stool behind the desk at the front of the room and proceeded to set everything up that I needed for my first lecture in front of hundreds of students. I was teaching two Gen Ed courses this semester, World Literature and Contemporary Literature, and my first class of the day was Contemporary Lit at 8:30. I plugged my laptop into the projector and
pulled up the PowerPoint presentation I created over the weekend for my first lecture, which covered the books we'd be reading for the semester and an overview of the syllabus.

  In my gray slacks and black polo, I felt like a professor. I finally felt like I was doing something with my life; something I enjoyed. Something that had nothing to do with my family and everything to do with what I was good at. I wasn't a test-giving kind of professor because most students weren't the test-taking type. I came to that conclusion a long time ago, after spending hours during high school and college tutoring other students. I based my grades solely on the written work done by the student and their attendance, and I only gave tests for extra credit during midterms or finals. This wasn't my first time teaching, but the atmosphere that the campus provided was already more rewarding than teaching online courses. This was where I belonged.

  With everything up and ready to go, I sat back and relaxed as I thought back to my time as a student. I remembered hating some of the readings the professors assigned and the busy work. I remembered skipping class if the professor was even a minute late to the lecture. All of their mistakes taught me what not to do as a professor, so I guess I should be grateful for the lessons their annoyance caused me years ago. As I checked the time, the door opened and Justin walked in.

  "Hey, Mary said you were already in here," he said, looking up at all the empty seats. "Are you nervous?"

  I shook my head. "No, this may be my first lecture in front of lot of people, but it isn't my first time teaching."

  Justin nodded and took a seat in one of the desks in the front row. "Then why the hell are you here so early?"

  "I don't know. I guess so I could get everything set up and get a feel for the lecture hall before it filled up."

  "Just don't picture your class naked if you get nervous. There's always some old broad in the class you don’t wanna see, and girls who are too young to picture. Besides, it's really awkward whenever a student wants to talk after class. Trust me."

  I laughed. He was right. That cure for nerves wasn't really a cure at all. "I'm not nervous. I just want them to enjoy my class and maybe take something from the readings I've assigned."

  "They will. Students can tell when a professor's really passionate about what they're teaching. If these readings mean something to you, they'll mean something to the students, too. Just don't assign busy work. Students hate busy work and they'll just give you shitty evals because of it. I did that to my professors back in college when they assigned that crap."

  "I've never had a bad student eval," I replied, and Justin rolled his eyes.

  "Of course you haven't. You get to assign awesome books about drugs, alcohol, and sex. What student is gonna hate that?"

  "How many bad evals have you had?"

  "I think maybe ten. There's always that handful of students who think they can skip class and skate by without turning in the work and then bitch because they got a bad grade."

  "And they don't even have to show up to turn in the eval anymore," I laughed, nodding in agreement. "It's all done online."

  "I know," he replied, standing from his seat. "You just wait. This is your first time teaching on campus. The last thing you have to worry about is the skippers. You'll have plenty of flirts you'll need to watch out for."

  "I'm sure."

  "Good luck today."

  I thanked him for the unnecessary luck and he left. Thirty minutes later, my class started to arrive. Students filed into the lecture hall, chatting about their weekends or tapping away on their phones. A few students introduced themselves as they walked in while others moseyed on by and took their seats.

  When the clock struck 8:30, I asked them all to quiet down as I woke up the laptop from its loud hum of a nap. I clicked start on the presentation and peered up at the full lecture hall. The students quieted and turned their attention to me, but all I saw when I looked up at them was Elly proudly smiling back at me from the tenth row up, readily awaiting my lecture. She looked just the way she always did during a lecture: attentive, pen in hand, ready to take notes, and ignoring everyone else around her. Most of the time, I just sat back and watched her listening to the lecture. The only notes I took were mental ones about how perfect she was.

  I blinked a few times, wiping away the old image of her, and cleared my throat to begin lecturing. "Hello, and welcome to Contemporary Literature. My name is Professor Jennings. I know last class you were given a syllabus for the semester. I'd like to take the time now to go over that and discuss what we'll be reading and what I expect from you. If you need a syllabus you can pick one up from my desk at the end of class."

  And for a brief second, my mind brought her back again. She wasn't rummaging through her things looking for her syllabus like the rest of the class. She was sitting back in her desk looking amused, admiring my work, like she was happy for me. And then she shot me a wink.

  Jennings, stop thinking about her and just lecture.

  Chapter Four

  Ellyson

  After wrapping up my speech, I sat in the back of the lecture hall as Justin took over the remaining fifty minutes of the class. He rambled on about who else would be coming to visit the class on Wednesday and Friday before assigning them to read chapters one and two in their textbooks.

  He dismissed class early, and I watched the students pack up their materials with excitement. Two freshmen girls sitting in front of me were actually taking their time, talking about their upcoming semester, the classes they thought they'd like, and which ones they already didn't care for. They reminded me of Paige and me when a new semester started, analyzing our schedules, trying to figure out which classes we could share and which ones offered hot teachers we could daydream about during the lecture. Eavesdropping on the wide-eyed innocents before me actually made me miss college.

  "Do you think Professor Jameson is single?" the blonde asked, gazing down at Justin with a dreamy look in her eyes.

  "I don't know, but I bet he's amazing in bed," the brunette replied and the blonde nodded in agreement. "I can just tell he has the most lickable abs underneath that button-up, and my tongue would cut itself off from the rest of my body just to have its way with them. And those dimples … don't even get me started. He has the cutest smile I've ever seen!"

  It took everything I had to suppress my laughter. I made a mental note to tell Paige and Tessa all about this over lunch. They'd definitely get a kick out of it, especially since Justin would find it annoying. Turning my gaze back toward Justin down by the whiteboard, I smirked and listened to more chatter about him.

  "I know, right? But you haven't seen Professor Jennings yet, have you?"

  What did she just say?!

  My eyes practically Looney-Tuned out of their sockets in disbelief as the brunette's brows furrowed and she shook her head. "Who's Professor Jennings? I don't think I have him for anything."

  "He's the new English professor. I have him for Contemporary Lit and let me tell you, He. Is. To. Die. For." the blonde explained, putting her hand over her chest. "He looks like some sort of sexy caveman. Like, this morning, when he was going over the syllabus, I imagined him being like, 'You. Me. Sex. Now.' And then I imagined him carrying me off to his office." They laughed out loud at her fantasy. "No, but really, he seems pretty nice. He's only assigned a few chapters for us to read and he only gives tests for extra credit. How awesome is that?!"

  "That is awesome. What days do you have him? I'll have to talk to my advisor about switching classes," the brunette said.

  "I have him Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays at 8:30. You definitely won't have trouble getting out of bed for him. Trust me."

  The brunette's eyes danced excitedly as she smiled back at her friend. "You have to come with me to talk to my advisor so I can switch my times. My Contemporary Lit professor looks like some hag straight out of a Harry Potter movie."

  "Let's go," the blonde said, laughing. They stood to leave and paraded down the steps toward Justin. They bid him a f
lirty goodbye and sent him tiny waves before moving on with their day.

  I stayed seated at the desk I'd occupied throughout the morning as thoughts about this Professor Jennings blossomed in my mind. Of course, my thoughts immediately ran to Carter because when did they not? Just the other day I bought a Carter's brand baby outfit for one of my neighbors who's due next month, and while I was waiting in line to purchase it, I pictured myself pregnant with Carter's baby.

  How neurotic was that?

  And yesterday when I thought I saw him at the gym …

  Could he really be back in New York?

  Since his departure from my life five years ago, I'd gone completely nuts thinking about him. I turned just about any scenario into something Carter-related. Like right now; Professor Jennings could be anyone. Jennings was a fairly common last name, but the blonde's excitement mixed with my hyperactive Carter cravings made me want to believe that the Professor Jennings she was gushing over was the same guy I had been swooning over for nine years.

  Dragging a hand through my hair, I watched Justin make his way up the steps toward me. He had an approachability about him that a lot of teachers didn't have, and it was the same ease that made me believe Carter could be a professor. They both were highly intelligent and had the patience it took to teach. I could definitely see Carter as the cool, laid-back professor who never assigned tests. Maybe Justin would know who Professor Jennings was even if they weren't in the same department. Don't ask him. You're supposed to be letting Carter go, remember?

  "Hey, I didn't think you'd stick around after your speech. Do you wanna grab lunch somewhere?" Justin asked, tying his hair back in his signature ponytail.

  "No, thanks. I just wanted to tell you thanks for having me."