“Good morning,” the new guy says as conversations die around us. “I’m Dr. Grim, chair of the Economics and Accounting Department. Some of you may have heard that Dr. Mitchell took a fall in his home yesterday evening. First off, I want to assure you that he is doing relatively well, all things considered. However, he has broken his hip and will be recuperating for the remainder of the semester. Should you feel moved to reach out to him and extend your wishes for a speedy recovery, I am sure Dr. Mitchell would appreciate it. However, due to his fall and to ensure that he has time to heal, Dr. Mitchell will be on medical leave for the remainder of the semester, so please refrain from messaging him about your grades. Dr. Mitchell’s course load has been redistributed throughout our department into the capable hands of his colleagues. To that point, allow me to introduce Professor Ashman. He will be your instructor for the remainder of the term.”
There are whispers throughout the auditorium at Dr. Grim’s announcement. I definitely feel bad for Dr. Mitchell—a broken hip has to be agony. But I’m not concerned about myself. It makes no difference to me, really. Econ is easy enough, and I’ve got a solid A in the course, so I’m not worried whose name is at the top of the roster.
I glance up as Dr. Grim stands back, allowing a younger man to take the lectern. The twitters start again, and I look at the guy who’s just been introduced. He’s average height, his brown hair a little too long, his glasses a little too trendy. I know him from somewhere, but I can't quite place him. That is, until a girl down front asks a question, and in response he smiles and winks. Fucking winks. And that’s when I recognize him.
My new Econ professor is Mel’s ex-boyfriend.
Damn.
It takes a second for me to process, but all the pieces fit together, and he’s definitely the guy we saw in the coffee shop the day she agreed to be my dating coach and fake girlfriend. Mel said they’d dated and admitted her ex was a good bit older. But she left out the part about him being a professor here. Something about that just doesn’t sit quite right with me. I mean, dating somebody older isn’t really a big deal. Yeah, I was shocked at first, but that’s just because he looks old enough to be her dad. But age really is just a number, I guess. And it’s none of my business who she dated before me. But the thing my brain is stuck on isn’t his age, it’s his job. Was he her professor? Was there a power dynamic there? Because if so, that’s kinda fucked up.
Dr. Grim shakes the new guy’s hand before leaving and there’s another wave of chatter throughout the lecture hall. Ashman—the new guy—takes his jacket off, drapes it on the back of a chair, rolls his sleeves up, and perches on the corner of the desk. The girls in the row in front of me are all aflutter about this guy’s forearms, but I don’t see it. I also don’t see why he’s rolling up his shirtsleeves. He’s teaching Econ, not rolling out pizza dough, but whatever. He starts in where Dr. Mitchell left off, and I resume my notes, but something’s off and it’s bugging me. I can’t quite figure out what it is that I don’t like about this guy because, honestly, I never pay a ton of attention to my professors themselves—I’m more tuned in to what’s being taught than who’s delivering it. But something about Ashman rubs me the wrong way.
He pauses momentarily to let us catch up, but my notes are in great shape, so I take this opportunity to size him up. Honestly, just by looking at him, I have no idea what Mel saw in him, but I guess attraction is pretty subjective. And a glance around the room tells me that more than half the people in here are totally entranced by the guy. He’s got charm, a kind of charisma that’s luring everyone in, but I must be immune to it. I just don’t get the appeal. But then again, I don’t really have to. All I need to do is get through this class. And since I currently have a ninety-eight percent, I don’t think that’s gonna be an issue.
Class finishes up and Ashman gives us the assignment for next week. I jot it down in my phone and toss my laptop in my bag, then gather up my stuff and join the queue of my classmates as they file out the door. I hear my name and turn around to see Dr. Ashman calling me over. Ok, this is weird, but I’ve made eye contact, so it’s not like I can pretend I didn’t hear him. I walk over to his desk and he smiles as I approach, but it’s one of those fake, game show host kind of smiles, all teeth and charm.
“Will Franconetti, right?” he asks, reaching out a hand for me to shake. I accept, but only because it would be awkward otherwise.
“I’ve heard a lot about you,” he tells me. “Seems like the hockey team is going to have another great year.”
“Yeah, that’s the plan,” I say, hoping we can be done with the small talk and I can get the hell out of here. And what does he mean he’s heard a lot about me? I was a recruit, sure, and I’ve got solid stats from Juniors, but I’m far from a celebrity on campus. “Well, I should—”
“I think we may have a mutual friend in common,” he says, cutting me off.Mutual friend? Is this guy serious? And does he actually remember me from the coffee shop? Because we saw each other for a grand total of about two minutes and the only reason I remember him is because his presence bothered Mel. Otherwise, he’d have been just another middle-aged guy my brain wouldn’t have bothered paying any attention to.
“Really?” I ask, happy to give the impression that I have no clue who he is, because he’s just not that important to me. I see something flash in his eyes for just a moment and I understand what Mel meant when she said he’s a guy who’s used to getting his way. The fact that I’m acting like I’ve never seen him before bothers the shit out of him, though he’s hiding it well.
“You know Melanie Cohen, don’t you? I thought I might have seen you two together in the quad. She’s a dear friend of my family. She used to nanny for us, and my boys miss her terribly, but she’s finishing up here and moving on to bigger and better things.”
He says those last words with weight, like he wants me to know I’m small-town, and that Mel has a bright future in front of her. What a dickhole. But before I can tell this asshat I’m late for my next class and book it out of here, he starts talking again.
“But you never know, I guess,” he muses. “Mel thinks she wants all the big city has to offer, but she may just find that the city isn’t really what she’s looking for. Who knows, she may just make her way back to Bainbridge after all.”
He smiles that smarmy smile again, and the true meaning of his words is clear: He thinks Mel’s going to get tired of me and go running back to him.
I’m not an angry guy, and I’m not really one to brawl on the ice, but something about this guy makes me want to throw a punch. But there’s no way that would end well, so I take a calming breath, smile, and tell him the truth. “Whatever Mel wants, whether it’s D.C. or New York, Bainbridge or even Brazil, I’m all for it. There’s nothing that matters more to me than making sure Mel’s happy.”
He just stares at me for a second, but before he can reply, I’m halfway out the door. “I’ve got to get to class,” I lie. “See you next week.”
35
Will
Mel’s ex is still on my mind two days later. I almost said something the other day, but we were having the best time and I didn’t want to ruin the mood. She knows he’s my prof now, but she doesn’t know how much I loathe the guy. Well, she might. And I don’t really know what happened between them, except that it’s over now. It’s none of my business, I know that, but the guy gives me the freaking creeps and I guess I’m morbidly curious.
But I can’t worry about that right now. There are pumpkins to carve. We spent most of the afternoon helping Mel at Fall Fest, and honestly, it was fun. Van and I were in charge of the corn maze, and we didn’t actually lose any small children, so I’m calling it a success. And I know Mel’s only interning at the senior center because it’s required, but she clearly loves it there, and they love her. Glenna, one of the Hookers, told me that Mel is their favorite and they’re really hoping she gets the job of accounts manager when Brenda retires this spring. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that Mel will be in D.C. by then. Her impending departure is bound to break my heart. I don’t need to break Glenna’s, too.
I know I’m probably getting too close to Mel, but I can’t help myself. I know it’s foolish to fall in love with her, but I also know I’m past the point of falling. Mel is my person. I just wish I could be hers.
“Incoming!” Ollie yells as he begins pitching pumpkins off the back of Norris’s truck. Luckily, Booker and Van are paying attention and start catching the giant gourds as they sail through the air.
It turns out there wasn’t any actual pumpkin carving at Fall Fest. I guess pumpkin painting is all the rage now, because you can’t actually stab yourself while doing it. Apparently, my teammates think swapping carving out for painting is sacrilege. So, when Brenda, Mel’s boss, offered to let them take some pumpkins home, they were all over that.
We’re back at the house now, setting up a carving station outside. That way, we can just dump all the guts and stuff when we’re done. But also, our house is too gross for guests.
Somebody filled a cooler with ice and drinks, and Santos stopped by the gas station for snacks. It’s not fancy, but it’ll be fun.
Fallon, Booker’s sister, is helping Mel tape garbage bags to the picnic tables. They look like they’ve got it covered, but I’m just standing around, so I offer my services.
