I Want It That Way

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

His hair slipped against my legs like silk in contrast to his stubbled jaw.

I’d seen bad porn where the guys got down there and motorboated, but Ty was really good with his tongue. I arched and squirmed, hands tangled in his hair, while he licked and nuzzled and teased my inner thighs. Guys before had lost interest if I didn’t come in five minutes, but it wasn’t easy to relax with someone’s head down there. But he eased his way north until I lost all sense of time. My world narrowed to his lips and tongue, the hands pressing my thighs apart and the escalating urgency quaking through me with each stroke, each lick. He was tender and patient, relentlessly wicked with his mouth. In the end, I screamed and came so hard, my legs cramped.

Once I recovered, I tried to give him a turn, but he didn’t let me.

“Come here,” he said.

He snuggled me close and held me for a good ten minutes. Then we took a final bedtime shower and managed tricky shower sex. He’d been right not to start with it, because it took some doing, and once he almost fell over. Afterward, we got into bed while I tried not to think how few hours were left. He was quiet, too. It could be that we’d done so much talking earlier, neither of us had much to say. But I didn’t think so.

“This weekend went so fast,” he whispered.

“I know.”

And in November, there would be no time for us. But what about December? Counting in my head, I figured that the end of the month wouldn’t be a holiday, as both Christmas and New Year’s fell midweek this year. I had to ask.

“So...do you have any plans for December 28?” I hoped he didn’t think the question sounded desperate, but at the idea that we had to wait two months to be together again, I nearly broke into tears.

“That weekend’s yours,” he said softly.

Thank God.

“We’ll text.” That sounded stupid, considering he lived downstairs, not in Australia.

“Soon it’ll be too cold for us to talk outside. I’ll miss it. I looked forward to it, wondering if I’d see you.”

I wished I had the nerve to suggest I knock on his door to give up a good-morning kiss before we went our separate ways, but that pretty solidly contradicted the terms of the friends-with-benefits thing. So I said nothing and curled into his arms when he wrapped them around me. The last thing I did was try to memorize how he felt, so close and warm, because I’d want to picture it through sixty nights alone. I fought sleep as long as I could.

I lost.

In the morning, Ty was subtly different. Not that he was cold or showed signs of regrets, but I could see him changing, putting away the person he’d permitted himself to be and shifting back to dad mode. As promised, he made us a couple of omelets for breakfast, and they were delicious. But after we ate, it was past ten, and I could tell he was ready to go pick Sam up. I recalled what he’d told me about spending Sundays with his son, and I didn’t imagine it was different, even on his off weekend.

To make it easier, I said, “I hope you don’t mind, but I need to get going. I finished midterms last week, but I already have assigned reading and some projects to work on.”

That was an exaggeration. I had one chapter and an actual lesson plan to prepare, but it wasn’t due until December. Ms. Parker had told me weeks ago that I’d be expected to work up a lesson that fit with her curriculum and teach a class before I left the practicum. I hadn’t spent much time on it yet, so that wasn’t a huge lie. Just a white one that relaxed him and made him feel like he wasn’t kicking me out to get back to his life.

“No, I get it. I have some work for tonight, too, after Sam goes to bed.”

So I hugged him, and Ty kissed me until my toes curled. Which I thought was a fictional physiological response, until he made it happen. When I broke away, my fingers were fisted in his shirt, and I had to make myself let go. Symbolic, huh? Then I scooped my belongings into my backpack and went upstairs. It shouldn’t have hurt, but it did. Leaving probably always would.

Nobody was awake when I crept in. Though I had my tablet in my lap, pretending to read, I heard when Ty left. But on a deeper level, I felt it, too, just like he’d said. It sounded poetic and slightly improbable, but the whole building felt emptier, an echo where there had been warmth. Shaking my head, I actually did read the chapter for my mild-impairment class, and I was dozing on the couch when Lauren got up just past noon.

She showed no mercy in poking me awake. “So how was it?”

“Phenomenal.”

“One word? That’s all I get?”

Before I could respond, Angus came tromping out of his room, disheveled and adorable. “About what? Did something delicious happen?”

“From Nadia’s expression, yeah. Repeatedly. But she’s refusing to tell me more.”

“It’s rude to kiss and tell, especially when we can gawk at the sex monster who lives downstairs. We totally heard you screaming through the floor.” His back was to me as he made coffee, using the fancy machine I hated, and for a few seconds, I just stared in mute horror, remembering how I cried out while Ty was going down on me.

Lauren took pity. “He’s kidding. We heard nothing.”

“Thank God.”

“But apparently, it was scream-worthy,” Angus said, dropping onto the couch next to me. “Now that is interesting.”

“If you two don’t shut up, I’m hiding in Max’s room.”

Lauren’s expression flickered, some strange combination of sadness and remorse. “That would be fine. He’s not in it.”

“Oooh, sour.” Angus didn’t know they’d slept together, I suspected, or he wouldn’t poke at her. “I didn’t get any play this weekend, either, so try not to be grumpy that our roomies did.”

“Who’s up for going out later?” A change in topic seemed to be in order.

She seemed grateful. “Count me in. I haven’t left the apartment since Friday.”

“You could’ve borrowed my car. I left the keys on the hook by the door.”

“I know. There were some parties I could’ve gone to. I was just feeling lazy.” The way her eyes cut away from mine told me she was lying. Indolence had nothing to do with it.

Before I could call her on it, Angus put in, “I know a guy who’s throwing a Halloween bash tonight. We could check it out.”

“Costumes?” Lauren wondered aloud.

He made a face. “Hell, no.”

Since I had no plan when I made the suggestion, this sounded fine. “I don’t feel like dressing up, but I’m down for a party. What time?”

“Starts at eight, which means it should be good by nine,” Angus answered.

Lauren hesitated, glancing between us like she had mixed feelings. “I don’t know. When you mentioned going out, I thought it would be the mall or a movie.”

“You don’t have to,” I said. “If you’re not up to it.”

She appeared to square away some inner conflict. “No, it’s fine. I’m in.”

“Leave by eight-thirty?” Angus asked.

I confirmed with a nod, then I escaped to my room on the pretext of working on my lesson plan for the practicum. Instead, I took a nap. It was late afternoon when I rolled out of bed. Hunger drove me to the kitchen, where I showed off my mad culinary skills by making cup ramen. I didn’t see Lauren or Angus, so maybe they went to lunch. Max was parked on the couch, still bruised, but the marks were fading.

“Good weekend?” I asked.

“It was shit,” he muttered.

“What happened?”

“I spent it at the garage. The owner doesn’t mind if I crash on the couch in his office.”

It seemed like our talk on Friday hadn’t helped. “Maybe you should consider subletting. I don’t want you to go, but you shouldn’t pay rent if you can’t stand to sleep here.”

“I know,” he said tiredly. “I just need to get over it. She doesn’t care what I do.”

“You should tell her how you feel, dude. Lauren can’t read your mind.”

In all honesty, I wasn’t sure it would make a difference. I didn’t get the sense that she was haunted by their night together. Something else seemed to be eating at her, but she’d stopped confiding in me, and I didn’t know what to do about it. With a pang, I remembered how we used to make a pillow fort in my room, hide inside and whisper our secrets. Back then, there was nothing I didn’t know about Lauren Barrett. I couldn’t pinpoint the precise moment that changed.

He swallowed hard. “I’d rather get punched in the face again.”

“Are you ever going to tell me what happened?” My gaze skimmed over his battered features, worried about both him and Lauren.

“I promised not to talk about it. With anyone.”

That shot holes in my theory that he was out fighting because he was pissed off. “Promised who? Lauren?”

“Stop digging. This is her story, not mine. If she wanted you to know—”

“Okay, I get it.” But it stung realizing how completely she’d iced me out. Other than reiterating that I was willing to listen, I didn’t know how else to help.

“Stop looking at me that way. She didn’t invite me into her business. I was just there.”

I understood Max well enough to be sure he wouldn’t spill Lauren’s secrets, even to me. Accepting that, I changed the subject. “So we’re going to a party tonight, some guy Angus knows. You in?”

Max thought about it. “I guess.”

That settled, I sucked down my ramen and went to get ready. Despite the tension between Max and Lauren, it had been a while since the four of us went out together, and excitement percolated through me, enough to dispel the residual gloom over leaving Ty’s place. Focusing on fun—not my normal mandate—I put aside the subtext. The closer we got to departure, the more pumped I got, so by the time I put on my boots and jacket, I was ready to cut loose.

“I’ll be the DD tonight,” Angus said. “I definitely owe you, Nadia, and I’ve got that awful hangover memory to keep me straight.”

“Really?” Lauren smirked at him.

Angus flipped his hand at her in a whatever gesture. “You can be so literal.”

Max and I snickered as we followed them to the car. Lauren got in front with Angus, so I crawled into the back of the Audi. The drive took fifteen minutes, as the party was being held off campus, hosted by somebody who lived with his parents. I’d met Scott a couple of times, but we’d never hung out. Angus was in Biology, preparing for med school, and they had classes together.

Mount Albion didn’t have posh neighborhoods or houses worth millions, but this much land would definitely cost a lot. Scott lived in a farmhouse on at least twenty acres, judging by the length of the private-access road. It was an old place, but from what I could tell in the dark, beautifully restored, and the wooded privacy of the area meant nobody would call the cops. Part of me was also glad that we wouldn’t be bothering Sam and Ty. The sheer number of cars in the gravel parking area was insane. Later, they’d probably be lined up all the way down the drive.

“Who else is glad we don’t have to clean up?” I said as Angus parked.

“Cosigned,” Max answered.

The farmhouse was lit up from all angles, and Scott hadn’t skimped on the decor. Most of it was cheesy, holiday-store stuff, like the motion-activated skull that said “Happy Halloween” when you walked by. There were also paper witches and glowing, plastic jack-o’-lanterns. Already, the music was loud as hell, and we were still fifty yards from the house.

“Looks like Scott posted the invite somewhere. We’ll end up with bikers and truck drivers,” Angus predicted.

I shrugged. It wasn’t my house.

Max led the way inside, and I followed. The kitchen was bright yellow and jam-packed with people. Some of them were grabbing at chip bags while others were prowling through the alcoholic options. Scott was down the hall, but he recognized Angus and yelled something at him, then gave a thumbs-up. Following Max, I grabbed a beer as he forged a path into the living room, which was big enough to dance with the furniture shoved back against the walls. The floors were hardwood, easier to move; I could never spin quite the same on carpet. As I bent to take off my boots, my mood picked up even more. I shouldn’t feel responsible for Lauren or obsess over my relationship with Ty.

See, it’s fine. The weekend was fantastic, and now it’s over. Life goes on.

I worked my way into the cluster of thrashing drunk people and found a guy who seemed more sober than most. He moved well—not like Angus—but decent for a farmhouse party in Michigan. Not that the guys in Nebraska were the best dancers ever, either. Like Max, most of the dudes I went to high school with had just barely mastered the white-boy shuffle. Arms over my head, I threw myself into the music and danced for almost an hour. The guy signaled that he was getting a drink, and I just waved and kept going. Angus joined me after that, which was good. It kept other guys at bay, and he was a great partner, challenging me to vary my moves and try to execute some I’d normally be too self-conscious to attempt.

Finally, around midnight, I went looking for food and drink. Most of the chip bags were empty, and I was lucky to score a beer. I didn’t see Scott anywhere, and people were starting to pair off. Lauren was talking to a blond guy, a skater wannabe who never went without a beanie and couldn’t actually do any tricks on his board. Typical poser.

It didn’t take long to spot Max, watching intently. He had one hand balled up in a fist. Carrying my beer, I navigated through the crowd toward him. “Hey, dial it down. They’re just talking, and you look like you’re trying to make his head explode with your mind.”

“Would that be so wrong?” he muttered.

“Have you said anything to her?”

“Not about that.”

“God, you’re such weaksauce at telling someone how you feel.” Maybe that was too tough a stance since I’d just counseled him to talk to her earlier today.

But before I could apologize, he snapped, “Is this your idea of a pep talk, Conrad? You might need to up your game or risk turning all your little impaired kids into cutters.”

“Wow.” That was much harsher than Max usually came across. Shocked, I stared at him for a few seconds, and then I wheeled and started to walk away, but he put a hand on my arm.

“I’m sorry, okay? Sorry.”

Shrugging him off, I turned with a glare. “I’ve been nothing but supportive, you asshole, even when I have plenty of my own shit going on. But do you ever ask how I’m doing? Fuck, no. I’m tired of you slouching around acting like nobody ever had a problem besides you.”

“Are you guys fighting?” Lauren must’ve broken away from skater boy when she registered the tension; by nature, she was a fixer and a people-pleaser.

“No,” Max answered, as I said, “Kinda.”

“Well, which is it?” She aimed a hard look at us.

“Nadia doesn’t agree with how I’m handling a personal problem, so she’s pushing me to make a move, and I snapped back. Then I apologized. Before you walked up, Lauren. It’s handled. We’re good. Right, Nadia?” His eyes begged me not to say anything, like he was scared to death she’d take his heart and stomp on it.

I sighed. “Yeah. That’s exactly what happened. And we’re fine. To prove how fine, Max just asked me to dance.”

He bit out a curse that Lauren couldn’t hear because just then, a slow song came on. Max wanted to slow dance with me as much as I wanted to do the Macarena. I took one step toward the couples getting cozy and pretended to wince. I bent to rub my toes, as if I had a blister.

“Do you mind?” I asked Lauren. “Max loves this song.”

Behind me, he was mouthing, what the hell, but when she shrugged and took his hand, I grinned like a crazy person. I gave him a this is your chance look, but he shook his head. He was a good six inches taller than Lauren, if not more, so she couldn’t see the expression on his face as she settled into his arms. He touched his cheek briefly to the top of her head, and it was one of the sweetest things I’d ever seen.

Angus came up beside me, eyes wide in horror. “Dear God. How did I miss this?”

“You had Josh problems.”

“Come on, let’s talk and dance.” He led me out and added, “So do we support this?”

Since he knew something was up, there was no point in hiding it. “Top secret, you swear?”

“Cross my heart, all appropriate solemnities.”

“Max digs her. She doesn’t know and probably wouldn’t believe it if she did. I’ve been trying to get him to be brave, but so far, he prefers silent anguish. Otherwise, I’m not interfering.” I didn’t mention the fact that they’d hooked up once or that Max’s fading bruises had something to do with Lauren.

“Right. And your sore toes have miraculously improved,” he said with a head shake.

“It’s you. Have you considered becoming a faith healer?”

“I might enjoy the laying on of hands. But no. These hands will heal as God intended, via modern medicine with a high premium attached.”

“I don’t think plastic surgery technically counts as healing, Angus.” Last I knew, that was his intended area of concentration once he finished med school.

“It is for burn victims.”

“And you’ll be doing mostly restorative procedures?”

“Shut up and dance,” he muttered.

Just past one, the party got really loud and crazy. As predicted, some noncollege people showed up, and they looked like a rough crew. We decided en masse to roll out then, not least of all because I had an early morning. Angus was sober, a relief, because I’d had enough beer to buzz me pretty good. In the back with Max, I was feeling mellow, so when a sharp curve threw me against him, I stayed.

“You’re heavy,” he complained.

“You’re an asshole. Don’t ever say that to a girl.”

“Even when it’s true?”

“Especially then.”

With a faint sigh, he put his arm around me, and I couldn’t help but compare Max to Ty. He felt wrong, smelled wrong, even held me wrong. But he was warm at least.

“Fine, you’re made of moonlight and gossamer. Better?”

“Immeasurably.”

We sat together companionably until Angus parked in his spot outside the building. “This will probably be my last fiesta for a while. I have to get serious before finals.”

That was no joke since Angus’s program was mad competitive. But I was in the same boat. Depending on how I did on midterms, I might need to focus even more to make sure my GPA stayed high enough for me to keep my scholarship. Other people skipped class more than I did, partied harder and longer, but they didn’t have parents who were mortgaging their future, gambling everything on one kid making good.

“We’ll party again after exams,” Lauren said.

Everyone nodded, even Max. Then we headed up to the apartment. After checking my alarm, I brushed my teeth and got ready for bed. Have to be up in five hours. Wincing at that, I plugged in my phone for the first time all day. Deliberately I hadn’t looked at it since I left Ty’s. I don’t want to be that girl, living for text messages.

But I had one waiting from him, sent four hours ago.

I miss you already.

Smiling, I sent back, Me, too.