Wanted By You

by Steph Nuss

  As I picked out Friday's outfit and workout apparel for after work, I heard my iPhone chime over the TV blaring from the living room. I ignored my phone and rustled through my closet as Kevin Costner gave his monologue about everything he believed in. Bull Durham was on TBS, and every time it came on, I felt the need to watch it because it had been one of Carter's favorites. Every time I watched it, I pictured Carter quoting the monologue word for word. Today, those thoughts were interrupted as Stag's bark sounded throughout my apartment, alerting me that someone was here.

  I heard the door to the apartment slam shut and Maverick's voice as he attempted to calm Stag down. He was seated on the couch rubbing my black lab's ears when I walked into the living room. "Why do you even have a phone if you aren't going to use it?"

  I checked my phone and read the three text messages he'd sent.

  Maverick: Up for a game of tennis today?

  Maverick: Tennis 2 pm?

  Maverick: I hate you.

  I laughed at the third one and joined him on the couch. "When have I ever turned down a game of tennis? You could've just sent me the details and I would've met you at the courts. I think we've been friends long enough that an invitation isn't necessary." Our parents had been friends since college and stayed friends long after they married. Hence, Mav and I were friends. We were both only children, so we treated each other like siblings.

  "I know, I know, but today is not our typical game of tennis," he answered, leaning his head on the back of the couch. He picked up the remote and exorcised his frustration by flipping through the channels repeatedly.

  "Hey! I was watching that!" I snapped, grabbing the remote out of his hand and turning back to Kevin. "How dare you switch channels when Kevin Costner is in a baseball uniform, and what do you mean not our typical game?" The last time he acted this angry, he broke the remote after throwing it against the wall, and that week without a remote was hell. In an attempt to curb his anger, I jokingly asked, "Wait, did Serena Williams join your gym and you challenged her and her sister to a doubles match?" That earned me a smile. Mav could be such a chameleon sometimes. "If that's the case, we should just forfeit or you should stop flirting with the gym members, especially the ones who could kick your ass."

  He sighed and ran his hand through his short black hair, as if trying to smooth away the rest of his irritation. "I'm not joking around here, Elly. My dad called me this morning and he wants to show his new girlfriend my gym and then play a couple of matches. I need a doubles partner, and since you're the only girl I know who's good at tennis, you're all I've got. Plus, I'm not thrilled about my dad having a girlfriend. My parents just finalized their divorce and he's already got some young thing hanging on his arm. It pisses me off. I just want to kick ass today, so I need you."

  "Okay, okay, I'm game." I saw the relief wash across his face when I agreed, and I knew right away he needed me to be more than just a doubles partner today. "Do you want me to come with you to show off the gym too?"

  "No, that's fine. Just meet us at the courts."

  "Alright," I replied, searching his face for reassurance. He was lying and I knew it. Mav was a straightforward kind of guy—it was one of the reasons we were such good friends—so when he lied, he was terrible at hiding it. I think part of him didn't want me to spend time with his dad's new fling. He hated the fact that his dad was chasing after women younger than us, and I knew it hurt seeing his dad with anyone other than his mom. Maverick needed my support today. "I'll come anyway. I haven't seen the new additions either, and it's not like I have that much to do until two."

  "You haven't seen them yet? I thought Fletch showed them to you the other day."

  "He was going to, but then a girl who works at one of his clubs caught up with him, and you know how his workers can be with all the flirting and touching. I just went on with my workout instead."

  "Yeah, those girls are clingy. Of course you can come. I would have shown them to you on Friday if I'd known you hadn't seen them yet."

  "It's cool. Do you wanna eat some lunch and then we can head over there?"

  "Yeah, whatcha got to eat in this place?" he asked, hopping up from the couch and walking into the kitchen. He immediately swung open the refrigerator and started getting vegetables and lunchmeat out for a sandwich, as well as the lasagna I had left over from Thursday night.

  "Uh, well it looks like sandwiches and lasagna," I laughed. The muscular, tatted-up trainer and owner of Jones Jym could eat. He had the metabolism every woman wished for. I always kept my fridge stocked for times like these when Mav ambushed it.

  "Well, this stuff's just for me. What are you having?" he asked.

  "I'll just have an apple."

  He tossed me a Granny Smith and gave me the look he gets when he wants to rant. "Elly, you need more than an apple for lunch, especially if you're playing tennis today. Plus, aren't you training with Paige for the marathon in November? You need to keep your energy up and an apple isn't going to cut it."

  I rolled my eyes and sighed. "Your knowledge of the human anatomy and what it does and doesn't need is annoying sometimes. You're in my apartment eating my food. The least you could do is stay off my ass about my eating habits. And I had a big breakfast; I'll be fine. And, yes, we're still training for the marathon."

  He stacked his sandwich, which looked like the healthier version of a Big Mac, with turkey on four pieces of wheat bread along with a variety of vegetables (though sans the Thousand Island dressing). He lifted it to his mouth and, just before taking a bite, he glared over at me. "You have two scrambled eggs every morning. That's not a big breakfast."

  "But today I had four eggs because I was starving, so eat your damn sandwich and leftovers or you won't have a tennis partner today. I already have one dad who worries about me. I don't need another one." With that, I gladly turned up the volume on the TV and turned to ESPN to hear my dad discussing the kickoff of the college football season while I bit into my apple.

  "College GameDay is back. Life is good again," Mav said, sitting back down on the couch, where Stag sat eagerly awaiting scraps.

  "Stag, get on your bed," I demanded, pointing to his large dog bed. "I hate when he drools all over the place while people eat. It used to be cute when he was a puppy; now it's just gross." Maverick laughed and threw a piece of bread onto Stag's bed so he'd obey. "Life will be good once I take all you guys' money again. What games are we betting on first?"

  "No," he said, shaking his head. "None of us are betting against you this year. Last year you practically cleaned us all out and I'm still trying to figure out where you get your information from."

  "ESPN," I said, laughing. "Just like everyone else."

  "Bullshit."

  "Okay," I confessed, suppressing a smile. "Call it a woman's intuition if you will, but I usually go with whatever I feel like at the time."

  "Well, that's better than picking the team with the prettiest uniforms."

  "Oh, well, that's Oregon, hands down."

  Fifteen minutes and a different sports anchor later, ESPN moved on to coverage of major league baseball. The anchors were discussing who had the best chance to make it to the series when it was time for us to leave. "Come on. I wanna meet this chick who could potentially be your stepmommy."

  Maverick stopped in the middle of rinsing off his plate. "Like hell she'll be my stepmommy. She's probably just after my dad's money."

  "It was a joke, Mav, but screw her and the gold-digging horse she rode in on!"

  "That's the spirit! Let's go."

  * * *

  Jones Jym was Maverick's baby and pretty much my third home aside from my apartment and my clinic. It was housed in a large facility on the Upper East Side and each floor offered some different form of exercise equipment or recreation. It was basically the heaven of workout facilities. It was constantly buzzing and security was high because of its high membership. If you were working out in New York City, then you were probably doing it at Jones Jym.

 
; We arrived a little bit early because Maverick had a thing about being late. I'd always been a late person. I was even two weeks late when my mom finally gave birth to me, so that should've been a sign that the world would have to wait on me for everything else, and Maverick despised this about me.

  Standing outside the gym, waiting for Richard to show up, I asked, "So, what kind of additions have you made? I know the tennis courts were added to the tenth floor, but what else?"

  He shrugged, distracted as he looked for his dad. "Um, yeah, the clinic on six was put in last month. It isn't up and running or anything yet, but we're interviewing dietitians and therapists this week to get things going. Or, that's the plan at least. I want it opened at the beginning of the year."

  "That's cool. I'm excited to see it. It was a great idea to put in the facility."

  "Yeah," he replied, seeming annoyed by my small talk.

  A few seconds later, I heard the most annoying laugh I'd heard in my entire life. It was like nails-on-a-chalkboard meets Janice from Friends. Turning to my left to see where that god-awful noise was coming from, I saw Richard making his way toward us with some blonde wearing a tennis dress that was two sizes too small. "I hope that laugh isn't attached to that thing hanging on your dad's arm," I said, praying to God that my brain would give me the ability to keep any further rude comments to myself today.

  "Mav, it's good to see you. And you brought Goose. How are you?" Richard asked, leaning in to give us both a hug.

  "Good to see you too, Dad."

  "I'm good, Mr. Jones," I replied, while the blonde sized up my Nike shorts and tank top.

  "Goose, Mav, I'd like you to meet my girlfriend. This is Gabriella. Gaby, this is my son, and the owner of Jones Jym, Maverick, and his friend, Ellyson Evans, or, as we like to call her, Goose," Richard said, laughing and nudging Gaby.

  She let out her annoyingly loud laugh as if she understood Richard's joke.

  "It's nice to meet you, Gaby," I said, smiling. I couldn't believe he wanted us to meet her. Maverick's mom, Charlotte, was much prettier and laughed like a normal person. Internally shaking my head, all I thought about were men and their dicks and what poor decisions they made together.

  "Should we go on in so you guys can see the place?"

  "I'm excited to see what you've added," Richard said, nodding.

  I kept my eyes on Gaby throughout Maverick's tour. Part of me thought maybe she wasn't just out for Richard's money, but she hung on Richard's arm the entire time, all wide-eyed, like she'd never seen a gym before. She kept pointing out how there were so many of the same workout machines and equipment and TVs. She even mentioned how she’d love a membership after she blatantly checked out a guy lifting weights and winked at him as we walked by. With that, my benefit of the doubt quickly vanished.

  Maverick showed them the racquetball courts next and the basketball courts on the other side of the gym buzzing with the sound of sneakers screeching across the courts. As we passed by, my eyes narrowed in on a guy who, from a distance, looked a lot like Carter. But that thought just made me feel ridiculous because I knew it wasn't him. Carter wasn't in New York. He was somewhere else, without me. But that didn't stop me from seeing him everywhere I went.

  When we got to the sixth floor, I was shocked to see the new dietitian’s clinic was in memory of a girl Maverick use to date. "Hey, you didn't tell me you were putting it in her memory," I whispered, elbowing him in the side.

  "Camille was a world-wide icon. She deserves to have something put in her memory. I hope this brings more awareness to eating disorders," he whispered with a shrug.

  Wrapping my arms around his waist, I gave him a hug, as much for my comfort as for his. I rested my chin on his chest and smiled up at him, "I know how much you tried to help her and how often she just brushed it off. I'm proud of you."

  "I know. I'm proud of it, too. This was my way of not feeling helpless anymore. I know we weren't serious, but she was someone I really wanted to help and couldn't," Mav replied, smiling and hugging me back. Pulling on my ponytail, he whispered, "Let's hurry up and get this tour over with so the ass kicking can begin."

  I snickered and gave him a high five. "Let's do it!"

  When we finally made our way up to the tennis courts, Richard and Gaby talked strategy while Maverick gathered up tennis balls and rackets for us. I doubt Gaby even knew what the term "strategy" meant. Either way, it annoyed me. When it comes to sports, I am really competitive. That's what happens when you're raised by an all-star basketball player turned sports commentator: you live and breathe sports.

  Maverick made his way back from the utilities closet with our gear as Gaby filled out the scoreboard. The south walls were lined with whiteboards for filling in names of the players and the scores of each set. Walking over to check her spelling, I noticed she didn't put my real name but instead my nickname. "Ellyson" was probably too hard for her to spell since she couldn't even get "Goose" right. She spelled it G-O-S-E. Maverick noticed it too, and a grin slowly stretched across his face. He knew what was brewing in my movie-quoting head.

  "There's two O's in Goose," I pointed out, holding up two fingers and trying to maintain my composure before bursting into a fit of laughter.

  Maverick let out a loud laugh and shook his head as he handed me a racket and we walked to the other side of the net.

  Richard's deep laugh poured out of him. "Nice movie reference, Goose!" Gaby stood there frustrated, unable to find the humor in our conversation.

  "Can we just play already, Richie?" Gaby said angrily.

  Mav and I snapped our heads toward one another. What. The. Hell?

  "Ew, she calls him Richie," I whispered with a cringe, and pantomimed vomiting. "Let's get this ass-whoopin' over with."

  "Hey, I'll give you fifty bucks if you hit her with your serve," he challenged, mirroring my cringe.

  "You're on!"

  * * *

  Feeling victorious—and a hundred bucks richer, thanks to Mav—I ran back to my apartment to get ready for dinner at my dad's. My dad and I had a monthly ritual where I'd come over and we'd hang out together and have dinner. It was usually something simple like ordering pizza or Chinese food, but occasionally we'd get the crazy idea that we're good cooks and attempt to make a meal together.

  Running up the steps to my building, I caught Justin Jameson on his way out. Justin was the grandson of my neighbor, Janice Jameson (or, as she liked to be called, Mrs. J). He usually came over once a week to check on her and spend time with her, since the rest of their family lived up in Maine.

  "Hey, Elly!" Justin called out, as I came face to face with him and leaned in for a hug.

  "Hey! I keep missing you when you come by to visit," I said, a little winded. "You haven't been around much since school started. Your friends miss you."

  "I know, I know. Things are always kinda crazy at the beginning of the semester, with kids dropping classes and changing around their schedules," he answered with a shrug. "It's hectic, but it'll die down soon."

  Justin was a psychology professor at NYU, but he didn't look anything like a professor—or a homegrown New Yorker, for that matter. Standing well over six feet and naturally tan, he looked like something straight out of Cali, with shaggy, dirty blond hair he kept tied back in a short ponytail, and a lean, ripped body that looked like a surfer's. His hazel eyes had a smile of their own that sparkled any time he showed off his adorably cute dimples that made all the girls swoon.

  Mrs. J. tried on several occasions to get us together, and we even went on a date once, just to shut her up. Still, we came to the agreement that we were better off as friends. It wasn't that I wasn't attracted to him. He just didn't give me butterflies. In fact, I hadn't felt butterflies since Carter moved away. It was like the ones inside my stomach had found their favorite nectar in Carter Jennings and refused to move from such a beautiful landing pad. I miss him.

  Snapping out of my thoughts, I replied. "Yeah, I definitely don't miss college courses."r />
  "Yeah, it's different when you're the professor and not the student, but I really enjoy it." He smiled, showing off his charming dimples. Damn him and my heart. If I could get my heart to give up on one guy, I'd make it see Justin as the sweet, smart guy that he was. "I actually had a question for you regarding a few of my classes."

  "Shoot."

  "Well, since the school year just started, I was thinking for my Intro to Psych course I'd have a few people in the field come in and discuss their jobs. You know, just go into a few details about what you do and what it's like on a daily basis: the pros and cons of it. I was wondering if that's something you'd be interested in doing."

  "Of course. I'd be more than happy to come in and talk to your students," I said, mirroring his smile. "Just let me know what day works best for you and what time the class is and I'll check my schedule."

  He winced and took a deep breath. "Actually, I know this is really short notice, but I was kinda hoping you could come in tomorrow morning. The class is at 11:30, but if you can't make it, we can plan another time."

  "No, tomorrow will work. I usually don't see patients until the afternoon on Mondays. Do you want me to meet you at your office tomorrow around eleven?"

  "That sounds perfect. I'll see you then."

  "See ya," I said, grabbing the door to my building.

  "Elly?"

  "Yeah?" I turned back to look at him.

  "Thanks. I owe you," he replied, his dimples creeping out again as he winked. If he weren’t so shy, he'd be getting women left and right with that smile-then-wink thing. With his dimples and his sweet personality, he was every parent’s dream husband for their daughter.

  Rolling my eyes at him (and the group of girls who had slowed their jogging to check him out), I shook my head and waved an arm in the girls' direction. "Get out of here before you have a whole herd of women chasing you!"