Hearts On Campus

I’m in my sweat pants and a thin t-shirt standing in the middle of the dorm hall. Something I’ve never done in four years.

And if it were anywhere else I couldn’t care less either. Something about this man just makes me want to get down on all fours in front of him and beg him to do what I know deep down I know needs doing.

I can feel my legs pressing together, the urge to touch myself, to be touched down there is overwhelming.

“I’m Mr. Heart,” he finally says, finding my eyes with his. “Professor Bernstein said you might be able to give me a hand?” he asks, his brow cocking this time as I stifle another whimper.

Oh, I have two hands I can give you, but I don’t think they’ll be nearly enough.

Chapter Two

Wesley

Three days.

Three days of peace and quiet, letting me finally get around to the administration side of running the gymnastics team.

If we’re to have a budget for next year, I need to submit my request.

Trouble is, I don’t think my back or my computer can handle it.

I wince in pain as I check the computer cables again.

Nothing’s changed.

I’ve even switched it all off and back on again.

Still nothing.

Computers never were my strong point and I hate it because it makes me show my age when I don’t understand them.

Why does everything decide to break down on a long weekend?

A Friday afternoon after school hours too.

The budget proposal’s due first thing Tuesday and I need to get this done.

No distractions.

“You still here, Wes? Thought you’d be soaking up the sun somewhere already. Some pretty young thing hanging off your arm…” a familiar voice croaks.

Its Professor Bernstein, who lives across the hall from me.

I actually never thought to bother him with my problems, but seeing as he’s here.

I spin in my seat, wincing again from my back but smiling at his attempt at humor.

He’s always ribbing me about having women falling off me. Because it’s the one thing a guy that looks like me should have but doesn’t.

Neither does he though, he’s like eighty.

Not that there’s anything wrong with being old.

News flash: Bernstein looks eighty and he’s a computer scientist. Chew on that, Wes.

“Bernie!” I exclaim. “Am I glad to see you, I really need a hand getting this computer going… so I can submit my department budget proposal?” I hear myself plead as I watch his face sour as he looks at his watch.

He sighs heavily through his nose.

“I’d love to, Wes. But I gotta go. My plane leaves in an hour and the car’s waiting,” he says dismissively, checking his pockets for the second time for the keys he’s holding and the glasses he’s already wearing.

I feel my heart sink, prepping myself for the walk of shame to the library, begging to use one of their computers, if there’s even any staff there.

“Try uhh… Ms. Webster. Katelyn. She’s top of my computer science class and I know she won’t be going anywhere this weekend,” he sniffs, muttering about his keys and glasses until I point them out to him.

“Ah! Here they are,” he sniffs again, and hearing the honk of a horn outside, I watch him shuffle off carrying a beat-up briefcase and overnight bag as he hums to himself before navigating the stairs.

Even Bernstein has plans for the extended weekend.

Still, if he has a student who can help, I’m all for it.

But where is she?

I call out as I lurch from my seat, gripping my back with one hand and sliding the window open with the other.

“Where can I find her?” I call out, down to Bernstein who’s patting his pockets again.

He looks up, with his glasses on he has perfect vision but still squints as he focuses on my voice.

He puckers his large lips and points absently towards the other end of campus before easing himself into his cab.

“Big help,” I sigh, not wanting to sit down again until my back’s stopped spasming.

It shouldn’t be too hard to find her. I’ve lived on campus long enough myself to know there’s only one dorm that houses female science students.

Hearing the professor’s cab pull away, I realize how quiet everything is.

My little campus apartment, the stillness of the late afternoon outside.

The emptiness of my whole life if I’m not coaching gymnastics or running the department.

Or trying to pretend I’ve still got it.

What happened? It’s like twenty years of my life since the accident just vanished.

A couple of colleges later, promotions sure. I’ve got nothing but job and financial security, but it feels like nothing’s really changed.

Nothing’s changed around me.

I’m still a bachelor and a shooting pain in my back isn’t the only one I get.

I get it in my heart too sometimes.

The pain of longing.

How ironic, Coach Heart can’t find a girl.

I keep in shape, not too shabby for my age. But only when my back allows and this week it’s been giving me hell.