Page 3 of Dear Mr. Brody

“And the most lucrative,” I reminded him. Wilder was quirky, but I guess it didn’t matter when he was one of the top-grossing authors Lowe Literary represented.

“Touché…” He leaned against the doorjamb, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He seemed anxious, his eyes avoiding mine. “I know we already talked about this but… this professor job, it’s not something you’ll eventually want to do full time, right?”

“I’m not going anywhere, I promise. This is… I’m not sure how to explain it. I need something that’s just mine. That wasn’t a part of my life when I was with Lanie.”

“That makes sense.” He relaxed a little and gave me a small, sympathetic smile. “You’re a great agent, I don’t want to lose you.”

I laughed and his smile widened. “Trust me, I couldn’t afford the gas it would take to drive to WSC with what they’re paying me.”

“Is it terrible I’m glad the salary isn’t comparable?”

His chuckle was warm, and it lightened his mood even more. Anders was a hard ass when he wanted to be, but once you got to know him, once he trusted you and let you in, you’d never find someone more loyal.

“Maybe I’ll find the next Kurt Vonnegut in my class.”

He scoffed, arrogant as hell. “I highly doubt it. Let me know when you get sick of reading mediocre poems about adolescent loves lost, and kids looking for an easy A. Maybe I’ll give you a raise.”

“Hey, you never know,” I said, and he moved aside as I stepped out into the hall.

“Just don’t tell them you’re a literary agent, you’ll have a bunch of want-to-be Wilder Welles blowing up your inbox.”

“When did you get so cynical? Please tell me so I can skip that part of my thirties.”

He smirked as we rounded the corner to the lobby. Kris, his assistant, was on the phone. Her brows creased as she frowned. “I’ll tell him,” she said. “He’s in meetings for the rest of the afternoon, but I’ll let him know you called.” Kris exhaled, a tired smile forming on her lips as she hung up the phone. “Ready for your first day, Van?”

“Don’t encourage him.” Anders lips twitched, fighting a smile. “It’s almost like you want him to leave.”

“I liked it much better when you weren’t a smart ass,” she said. “But I suppose I have your fiancé to thank for that.”

“He has helped me reach my full potential.” Anders clapped me on the shoulder. “Seriously, though, good luck today.”

“Thanks… I’m going to need it.”

“Nonsense,” Kris chided, clucking her tongue like a mother hen even though she was my age. “You’ll knock ‘em dead.”

God, hopefully not of boredom.

I ignored the anxiety fluttering around in my stomach as I turned to leave. On the way to my car, the late August heat made the fabric of my dress shirt stick to me like a second skin. I rolled my sleeves to my elbows, but it did little to help. Once I was in my car, I cranked up the AC, hoping this job would be the thing I needed to move on, and not a giant mistake.

A few students were already in their seats when I walked into the classroom. I probably should have nodded my head or something, but I walked past them without an acknowledgement, far too anxious to even manage a smile.

Not very friendly, professor.

The room wasn’t as small as I thought it would be. Six long tables divided the room and could seat five students. The odd number of seats per row niggled at my already amped-up brain. What if there was only one seat left, and two students wanted to sit together on the same row? What if there was only one seat, and it was in the middle? Who the hell would want that seat? Not me, and Jesus Christ, I needed to calm down. I told myself to take a deep breath and set my laptop bag under my desk. A little less frazzled, I unzipped the bag and pulled out what I needed. I could hear the classroom door opening and closing, the whispered conversations hummed around me. I kept busy fiddling with the papers I’d set out, and took my time, breathing, counting backward from one hundred in my head. Counting was a tool I used. It soothed me. Numbers never changed. I hadn’t been this nervous in a while, and as I connected the wire from the overhead projector to my laptop, I internally laughed at myself. Most people considered me laidback, and for the most part I was, but every now and then, all the worry and insecurities I figured we all had to fight every day would stage a coup.

The time on my watch warned me I couldn’t delay any longer, and I inhaled deeply one last time as I raised my eyes and met the class.

“Good evening, everyone, I’ll try to make introductions as painless as possible.” Soft laughter sifted through the air, and I gained the confidence I needed to continue. I swept my gaze around the room, not lingering on one student for too long as I spoke. “I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but this is my first teaching job, so go easy on me.” A blonde girl in the front row blushed when my eyes landed on her, and I averted my gaze. Shit, I was awkward. “My name is Donovan Brody, and I’ll try to remember all of your names, but I can’t promise anything.”

One of the students near the back of the classroom raised his hand with a smirk. My heart rattled out a few unsteady beats as I braced myself for a smart-ass comment.

“Yes… Mr.—”

“Mills, sir. Parker Mills.”

His eyes, though I couldn’t decipher the shade from where I stood, twinkled with mischief. His features were classically handsome. A strong jaw, a sharp nose, full lips, and why the hell was I looking at his lips?

He ran a hand over his short, dirty blond hair, his smirk turning into a lopsided smile before I looked away. “Can we call you Donovan?”

---