I Want It That Way

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The next morning, Angus woke me just past six by collapsing at the foot of my bed with a sigh. Normally, I’d be up on my own since I had to be at work by eight. Shit, I must’ve turned off my alarm. But he didn’t seem to realize he’d done me a favor.

“You okay?”

“I broke up with Josh for good.”

I’d suspected that was coming. If he’d been able to move past it, he probably wouldn’t have spent so long mentally debating the issue. “I’m sorry. Give me a sec.”

After a quick hug, I wriggled my feet out from under him and raced to the bathroom. Once I took care of business, I washed my hands and brushed my teeth before opening the door. We’d chatted many times while I got ready, so this was nothing new. By this point, Angus had stolen the warm spot in my bed. He had no early classes on Thursday, lucky bastard.

“Can we talk now?”

“Go for it.” I rummaged in my closet, trying to find a clean day-care shirt and tan pants.

“If he can’t control himself for three weeks, what will it be like down the line? I don’t want to be tied to a serial cheater, constantly accepting the apologies and lies.”

Since I’d liked Josh, but I didn’t think he was the best guy ever, I supported this move. “I get it. You made the smart choice dumping J-Rod.”

“But I miss him,” he whispered.

I’d never broken up with anyone I truly cared about, so my advice would be worthless. “Did you meet anyone good at the Majestic?”

“I had some fun with the guy I was dancing with, but he was of the shh, don’t speak school of handsome.”

“Yikes. So not relationship material.”

“Not remotely.” He rolled over and snuggled onto his side. “Can I sleep in your bed while you’re gone?”

“Somebody should enjoy it.” Some people might find this weird, I supposed, but Angus had crashed in my room before.

When I unearthed a pair of wrinkled khakis, I punched the air in triumph and got dressed. There was no time for anything but a ponytail and I shoved my feet into a pair of dark blue Converse. Because he needed TLC, I crossed to the bed and kissed Angus on the forehead.

“Thanks.”

“We’ll hang out tonight if you want.”

“Not Project Runway,” he muttered.

“I’ll take you out drinking, and I can be your designated driver.” That should be the perfect distraction from his personal problems.

He pushed up on an elbow. “I haven’t done the stupid drunk break-up phase yet.”

“It’s followed by sitting in the recliner in sweatpants, eating Cheetos, right?”

Angus shuddered. “I’ll skip to the hangover cure and a good workout.”

“I’ll see you tonight.” With one last pat, I ran to the kitchen, where I fried an egg and made toast.

Ten minutes later, as I got in the car, I realized I should be grateful to Angus. Focusing on his issues prevented me from waking up in a cold sweat, wondering if Ty would boomerang into iceberg territory, no contact between us for weeks, like that one time. Of course, now that the possibility had occurred to me, anxiety squatted in my mind, swelling like a tick.

But something else distracted me. This morning, under normal circumstances, Lauren would’ve been part of that discussion. She should’ve woken up and bitched at us for bothering her and then offered to come to the bar tonight. I sorted through a jumble of impressions and I noted that her bed had still been made at six-thirty in the morning.

She didn’t come home last night.

As I parked, I got out my phone to text her.

You okay?

Fine, why?

Because you weren’t around when I left. Get lucky?

Woke up superearly. Went to the library to study for midterms.

I stared at my phone, unsure how to handle this. Usually, when Lauren didn’t want to talk about something, she said so. Never in my experience had she lied to me. But in a town the size of Mount Albion, the buses didn’t run at all hours, so how did she get to campus that early? It was theoretically possible that she’d walked; it was three miles. But that didn’t ring true.

Good luck, I finally sent back. If she wanted me to know what was going on with her, she’d tell me. No poking around on my end; I had enough shit on my plate.

My hand was on the door handle when my phone buzzed again, but this time, it was Ty. The message just read, No regrets.

Smiling, I answered, None here. Encore?

Soon.

Sam was already in the classroom when I arrived. He smiled at me, completely recovered from the night’s drama. Mrs. Trent put me to work, and the morning went fast. I actually liked it better than afternoons because keeping nineteen four-year-olds on their cots during nap time wasn’t the easiest job. Mornings were quick-paced with a dynamic mix of activities, lessons, snack and circle time. When noon rolled around, the new floater came in to relieve me.

I hesitated outside Mrs. Keller’s office, troubled, but something had to give. If I kept up at this rate, I’d burn out like my mentor at C-Cool had warned me. Mustering my nerve, I tapped on the door frame and she looked up.

“Come in!”

“I have a couple of things to talk to you about,” I said.

“You’re not quitting, are you?” Her look of alarm was flattering. “Then close the door, sit down, and let’s hear it.”

“The first request is, can I have the Friday after Thanksgiving off? I’m going home for the first time since last Christmas. It’s a sixteen-hour drive,” I added so she’d understand how big a deal it was, not like visiting Ann Arbor.

She nodded, making a note. “Thanks for the advance notice. I can work around it. We’re closed on Thanksgiving.”

“Yeah, that’s why I was hoping it wouldn’t be too big a deal.”

“It shouldn’t be. We run a skeleton crew on Black Friday because so many companies offer two days’ holiday, anyway. It’s mostly parents who have retail jobs that need us open.”

“Okay, thank you.”

“That was easy enough. You looked so serious when you came in, you scared me.”

“Sorry,” I said sheepishly. “I hate asking for favors. This might be harder to handle but...I need to shave a couple hours off my schedule on Wednesdays and Fridays.”

In a rush, I told her how the practicum was killing me—class at eight and then I had to race straight to C-Cool, where I was helping in the classroom for two hours. Afterward, there was another sprint to the day-care center to get me here by noon and if I was lucky, I might get a convenience-store sandwich along the way.

I concluded, “I just can’t keep going like that.”

“No, obviously not. Would it help if we shifted your hours to late afternoon? I could schedule you from two to six and you’d only lose an hour of paid time, but it should give you more of a lunch break, and I only have one hour to cover daily. I’m sure the new floater wouldn’t mind adding two hours.” Mrs. Keller got out her calendar and started looking at the shifts. “Right now you’re working twenty-three hours a week and she’s got seventeen. With this new division, it would be twenty-one and nineteen.”

“Yeah, that would be better.” Already the tension in my neck and shoulders eased. I could afford to pare down by twenty bucks a week, less with taxes.

She wrote up the sample schedule: Monday, 12–5. Tuesday, 8–12. Wednesday, 2–6. Thursday, 8–12. Friday, 2–6. I looked it over, checked the math. Yep, twenty-one hours a week, but those two trimmed hours would make my life a lot easier. With a grateful smile, I stood up.

“Thank you.”

“Not a problem. I wish more employees would talk to me instead of calling in until I have no choice but to let them go.”

“They probably don’t like working here as much as I do,” I said. “When will the change kick in?”

“I have to talk to Claire first, but I hope next week.” Claire must be the floater who had my old job.

“Thanks again.” I waved as I let myself out of her office, relief practically swamping me.

Time wasn’t so tight on Tuesdays and Thursdays, so I had the leisure to go home and make lunch, eat and change clothes, before heading to campus for afternoon classes. On the downside, I had them back-to-back until six. Which sounded like a lot of classes, but the Tues-Thurs ones ran longer to make up for meeting only twice a week.

It was half past six when I got home, and I had zero desire to go drinking, but I’d promised Angus. He was waiting on the couch, ready to party. I summoned a smile.

“Do you mind if I eat first?” The prospect of peanuts and microwaved chicken wings for dinner didn’t sound enticing.

He raised a brow at me. “Oh, Nadia of little faith. Take the lid off the pot on the stove.”

Curious, I did as he suggested and found homemade chicken noodle soup. I was already spooning some into a bowl as I said, “You’re too good to me, seriously.”

Angus grinned. “I know. I’m spoiling you for all other men.”

That was not even remotely true, but it boosted his ego, so I played along. Plus, when his food tasted this delicious, he deserved the praise. With a happy sigh, I plonked onto the couch and savored the goodness.

“You know this is why we asked you to room with us, right?” I teased.

“Why must you be so cruel? Am I only a sassy apron to you?”

“Of course not. You’re also a sassy wok and wooden spoon.” Angus hit me with a pillow, nearly tipping my bowl over. I glared in mock-outrage. “You dare. Do what you will with me but the soup deserves better.”

To my delight, he burst out laughing. Bodes well for tonight. I hadn’t seen his eyes shadow free and shining since Josh cleared his conscience. Angus had a tendency to internalize things and to obsess, so he must’ve been wondering if it was something he did before he went to Europe or something he didn’t do. I wanted him to stop with all of that and just cut loose tonight. My reluctance to go out faded.

Before we left, I ate two bowls of soup, then I let Angus fiddle with my hair. He hated the sheer laziness of the band keeping my hair out of my face. The funny part was, he wasn’t the genius of a stylist that pop culture implied all gay men should be. In my opinion, Lauren was much better. What’s up with her, anyway? But tonight was about Angus, so I let him give me bad sex-vixen hair, then we went down to the parking lot.

“Let’s take the Audi,” he suggested.

I’d driven his car before, but not often. A vehicle that expensive made me nervous. “Are you sure?”

“Positive. I’ll hand over my keys when we get there.”

Angus drove us to 42 North, a bar cunningly named after its own address. It was the closest thing Mount Albion had to a hipster bar, where students and townies could mingle. Typically, the blue-collar types drank across town, however, at the place off the interstate. So at the tail end of happy hour, we had some men in business suits, a few people I recognized from campus and some older folks. Interesting mix, not too exciting, but it was Thursday. Tonight, they had a piano player, plinking out old favorites from my mom’s day.

“Well, this is...mellow,” Angus said with a lip curl. “I suppose they’ll play ‘Piano Man,’ and everyone will weep into their beers.”

“Don’t be snide. You came here to get drunk, not bitch about ambiance.”

“Can’t I do both? I’m an excellent multitasker. Watch. Excuse me! Vodka and cranberry for me, ginger ale for the lady.” While we waited for our drinks, he whispered in my ear all of the things that were wrong with this bar and its patrons.

In a bitchy mood, Angus could be beyond mordant, but he was also hilarious. I snickered as the bartender delivered the first round. “Paying cash or should I start a tab?”

“A tab, definitely.” He handed over a platinum AmEx, courtesy of his dad. I usually didn’t notice the difference in our circumstances, but it was weird to realize how little money meant to him. He’d probably never scrimped or saved a day in his life.

The bartender brightened when he saw the card and service became brisk. I nursed two ginger ales while Angus polished off what I reckoned to be nearly a fifth of vodka by himself. As I’d promised that morning, he was drunk off his ass when I helped him to the car. Once he was buckled in, I ran around to the driver’s seat, somewhat excited about taking the wheel. The inside was posh leather and fine engineering.

On the way home, Angus sang the Spice Girls at the top of his lungs. Rather than fight it, I found “Wannabe” on his hard drive and blasted it. His good humor lasted until we pulled into the parking lot, then he turned with a horrified face. I guessed where this was going.

“Open the door, honey. Fast.”

Clumsily, he did, and he barfed all over the pavement. Better than the car. Wincing, I waited until he was done heaving, then I went around to help him out. Managing that without either of us falling down in the vomit was a feat worthy of the circus. My shoes took a hit, but friends before Converse, or something like that.

“I want to die,” Angus was moaning as we staggered into the foyer. “You’re the only one who loves me.”

That was untrue, but he’d clearly reached the sad-drunk stage. So I murmured encouraging noises as I practically herniated myself getting him up the stairs. Down the hall toward Ty’s place, I heard a noise, like the door clicking shut quietly, but I couldn’t investigate until I dealt with Angus. And that might take a while.

Ten minutes later, I got him up the stairs and into the apartment. I convinced him to strip and get in the shower, but I couldn’t stop him from wandering around naked afterward. Max came out of his room, surveyed the situation and then shook his head.

“Nope.” He retreated.

Thankfully, Lauren was home, and she helped me get him dressed and into bed. We flopped him on his stomach and left his trash can beside his bed in case he got sick. By the time Lauren shut Angus’s door, I felt like I had the night before, after listening to Sam scream for almost an hour. The comparison amused me.

“What the hell?” she demanded.

“He split with Josh for keeps.”

“Ohhh. Then it could’ve been worse. Why didn’t you tell me?” Her tone was...something. I didn’t know what. Accusing, maybe, like this was a conspiracy to make her feel left out. “I would’ve come with you.”

After dealing with drunk Angus, taking care of him and keeping him safe, I was tired, cranky, and the implication raised my hackles. “I thought you might be at the library.”

Yeah, that made it pretty clear I knew she was shitting me earlier. I held her eyes for a couple beats until her gaze slid away. For the first time, like, ever, I didn’t want to sleep in the same room with her. We were best friends, and she was lying to me; it hurt her, too, I could tell, but not enough for her to stop. She let me push past and out the door.

I had no idea where I was going until my feet carried me to Ty’s place. It’s too late. He’s probably in bed. So I wheeled without knocking, but his door opened as I moved away.

Tired eyes, running pants, black T-shirt. He opened his arms. I kissed him.

“Rough night?” he asked when we broke apart.

“Yeah. I’m sorry to bother you.”

“You can come in if you need to talk.”

Probably I shouldn’t, but dumping your problems was definitely a friend thing to do, and I could use the opinion of someone who didn’t live with us. So I sat down while he brewed some tea—in an actual kettle, I noticed—and I told him about the drama with Lauren and Angus.

When I ran out of words, he had me snuggled close, a hot mug in my hands. I was so upset I didn’t even notice it happening.

“Okay, Angus, you did fine, he needed to cut loose. Lauren obviously has something going on. Sometimes people just aren’t ready to talk. Whatever it is, it’s making her feel...” He paused, trying to think of the right word. “Lonely. But it’s not your fault. And you can’t help unless she lets you. I get why you’re upset, though. Try not to hold it against her.”

I cupped his cheek and kissed him softly. “You’re good at this.”

“I’m out of practice,” he admitted. “It’s been a while since anyone but Sam dumped their problems in my lap and expected me to make sense of them.”

“Sorry to bother you so late.”

“I couldn’t sleep.” At the curious tilt of my head, he added, “Started to worry when you didn’t answer my texts, nothing since I said, Soon. In my head, I went immediately to, I’ll never talk to her again and never find out why.”

Courtesy of Diana.

It was stunning to hear Ty admit to overthinking things, just like I did. “I turned my phone off for class and forgot to turn it back on. I promise, if I ever decide this isn’t working, I won’t vanish, and we’ll talk before it ends. Okay?”

“Thanks,” he said softly.

I wished I could lead him to the bedroom and lose myself in him. Sex would be amazing, the perfect remedy for a shitty day. A wistful thorn pricked my palm, the yearning for more than he could give. When I came in, I was a mess, but now there was only love, welling up with the irresistible force of laughter or tears.

A love I couldn’t acknowledge if I wanted him to stay.