“Baby.” Oz’s voice comes over the phone. I hear loud noises in the background like he’s in a bar or something.
“Oh. I’m sorry. I thought you might be in bed, and I wanted to tell you good night.”
“I wish I was in bed talking to you.” It’s hard to make out what he’s saying with all the noise coming through the line. I hear a woman’s laugh in the background and irrational jealousy shoots through me. I’m not used to liking a man enough to ever be jealous.
“Miles, come on, man. I want you to meet someone,” I hear someone yell.
“You seem busy. I’ll let you go. Sorry to bother you.” I pull the phone away from my ear to hang up. The noise is too loud to make anything out.
“Mallory, is that you?” I look up to see my statistics professor from Yale standing in front of me.
“Oh my God. Professor Field.” I end my call, slipping my phone back in my purse.
He smiles at me and shakes his head. “It’s Joel. I’m no longer your professor. Or a professor at all anymore, for that matter.”
“Oh. I’m sorry?” I offer, not sure if that was his own doing or not. Professor Field was one of my favorite teachers at Yale. He had a way of explaining things exactly how I understood them best. Not every teacher had that skill.
He’s probably in his late thirties with shaggy brown hair and kind brown eyes. He was the typical professor, always wearing square glasses and tweed jackets. He’s around six foot tall, and he always wore some kind of shirt with something funny or funky on it. He seemed like a really sweet guy while I was in school, and I know some of my friends drooled over him in class.
“I’m doing consulting work now. I’m enjoying it more than teaching, actually. Pays better, and I get to make my own schedule.”
“That’s always nice.” I smile, genuinely happy for him.
“How’s Osbourne Corp? You got an internship there, didn’t you?”
“I did. I’m really enjoying it. I think the hardest part so far is getting used to New York.”
“I hear you. I’m a little lost myself and don’t really know many people here.”
“I know the feeling, but I’ve met some new people at work. We’re going out Friday. You should come,” I offer, as Paige comes to stand next to me.
“You talk to Oz?” she abruptly asks, breaking into our conversation.
“Oh, yeah, for a second,” I answer her. “Paige, this is one of my professors from Yale, Joel. Joel, this is my roommate, Paige. She went to Yale, too.”
She nods at him. “You ready? Our food is getting cold.” She seems impatient and a little annoyed. I look over to see if Captain is still there, thinking that might be the problem or something. I see him still there, but now he’s on the phone.
“Yeah, sorry, Joel, but we have to go. I know Friday some of us are going to Marie’s Yacht Club over on 11th in Chelsea to have a few drinks after work. You can stop by and say hi if you like. Maybe meet some people. It would be nice to catch up.”
“Sounds good. If I’m not working, I might do that.” His shaggy hair falls in his face a bit, but his smile is bright. He looks hopeful for a chance to hang out.
Maybe he’s really been lonely in the city. I can’t imagine being here without Paige.
“Perfect. We’ll be there around six. I hope I’ll see you then,” I say as Paige pulls me away, making our way toward home.
“Geez, I know you’re hungry, but no need to be rude.”
“Not sure your Oz would like you inviting a man out for drinks,” she says, taking me by surprise. That was the last thing I thought she’d say. I thought she was hangry.
“What? He’s an old professor and new to town like I am.”
“He isn’t old,” she hits back.
Joel isn’t old, but that wasn’t what I meant by old. The girls at school crushed on him, but I didn’t get all the hype. He kind of looks like a hip nerd or something. I guess if you scaled him compared to all the other professors that would make him hot. I always thought he was nice.
“I didn’t mean old as in age, old like he used to be my teacher. Besides, I talked to Oz on the phone and he’s out at a bar from the sounds of it, and I know I heard a woman in the background, so…” I shrug as if I don’t care and fight the urge to check my phone. I will not be needy, I tell myself.
“If you say so. Just saying he doesn’t look like the type that would be okay with you inviting men out for a drink.”