I Want It That Way

CHAPTER FOUR

That could’ve meant nothing, I told myself. It could’ve meant anything, just a casual comment, like people say “see ya later” when they don’t expect to run into you again for years.

But that didn’t keep me from being excited as I skimmed the fridge message board. Angus had written, Out with Josh, don’t wait up, in red marker. Lauren’s scrawl read, Fine arts department dude is fine, let’s hope he’s interesting, too. Back late! Since we’d both worked full-time over the summer, it seemed like forever since we’d talked.

She’s not avoiding me, right? Nah. That’s silly.

Max studied me as he stood in front of the fridge, devouring a leftover sub. The girls he dated would doubtless find him less charming if they knew he left his underwear in the bathroom and Angus had to yell at him about it, and that he was prone to drinking from the milk carton, then putting it back. But he had a fantastic bod and a brooding, dark-horse stare. In their eyes, that might make up for the rest.

“So what’re you doing?” I asked.

Friday night, I should probably have something social going on, but the first week of school, job and practicum wiped me out.

“Eating.”

“Smart-ass. You know what I mean.”

“I’ll get my bike running if it’s the last thing I do. I won’t have a chance to work on it for a while. Don’t make any plans tomorrow, by the way. The party is most definitely on.”

“Cool. Who’s coming?”

He listed a bunch of mutual friends, people we hung out with in the dorm and then some names I didn’t recognize. Bottom line, at least thirty people would be here. I had mixed feelings about it. At the best of times, I wasn’t a party animal, though I had barfed in the bushes a few times my freshman year. Ironically, on one of those occasions, I hadn’t been drinking at all; instead I’d sucked down too many energy drinks and caffeine pills cramming for midterms. Now I didn’t let myself get more than a buzz on, mostly because I hated hangovers so much. Recovery could kill the whole day.

Max was looking expectant. “Aren’t you gonna tell me how awesome I am?”

I stretched lazily. “Nope. There’s no point. You say it as part of your daily morning affirmation, anyway.”

“Can’t argue with my own mirror.” He smirked.

“Good luck with your bike.”

“Thanks.” He tousled my hair and headed out.

A glance at the clock told it wasn’t remotely late enough to sit on the balcony and expect company, so I worked on coursework for an hour and a half. After that, I lost interest in being virtuous and rummaged through my mom’s care package. She’d maximized value from flat-rate, priority shipping, as I’d also received homemade gingersnaps, a handmade scarf and a poster she thought would look nice on the living room wall.

On a whim, I dug a small basket out of my closet. I’d gotten a bath set in this, and it was light enough to serve. Next I located a ball of yarn, left over from my failed attempts to learn to knit. My mother was so good at it, and she’d tried so hard to teach me, but I never made anything that didn’t look like a cat had killed it. I threaded the string through the straw on four sides, and then let it out, guessing how long it needed to be for Ty to reach it. Finally, I tied the strands off on top, creating a messy sort of handle.

By this time, it was after eight, nearly dark. I cracked the balcony doors for a breeze; it wasn’t hot enough to run the air conditioner, and it would only get cooler from here. Through the sliding glass doors, the last of the sunlight glimmered over the treetops, like a farewell, and I watched until the shadows lengthened completely. As soon as they did, I made a cup of tea, but I was a wild woman and chose orange Ceylon spice instead of the usual infusion. I also took a pack of peanut butter cups from the Mom stash. With the doors open and ears straining, I heard when Ty stepped out.

Smiling, I lined the basket with a paper napkin, then set a tea bag atop it, along with a gingersnap and a peanut butter cup. Maybe I should’ve acted like I wasn’t waiting for him so obviously, but I had never been good at pretending I didn’t want things when I did. So I stepped out onto the balcony, maneuvered around the lounge chair and carefully lowered the basket toward him. He was just staring, as if willing me to appear. Sparks crackled to life inside me.

“What’s this?” he asked, steadying the gift drop as it came to him.

“My mom sent treats. I’m sharing them, so we’ll both have delicious things.”

To my surprise, he didn’t argue, and his smile flashed, visible in the shadows. Part of me wondered why he didn’t ask me downstairs to talk, but his reticence must relate to Sam somehow. The basket lightened when he took his share of the goodies.

Then he said, “Let me heat some water. I could use a cup of tea.”

“Sure.”

I settled into the Adirondack, waiting for him to return. Peace stole over me, along with gladness that we hadn’t gone with a place closer to campus, all full-time college students. I would never have met Ty. Because it seemed polite, I didn’t eat any sweets and only sipped at my tea, cooling on the arm of my chair. He must’ve used the microwave because it didn’t take long enough for a kettle to boil.

“Back.” The wicker love seat creaked as he settled onto it.

“Cookie first.”

In silent harmony, we devoured them. I loved the combination of sweetness and the spicy bite on the tongue afterward. I could taste the molasses, remember the scent of the kitchen while Mom was baking. A pleasant homesickness swept over me. This summer, I was so busy, saving up for lean times through the fall and winter, I hadn’t gone home at all since it was a sixteen-hour drive. I’ll make sure to see them at Thanksgiving. With any luck, the Toyota had a few more road trips in her.

“Phenomenal,” he said.

“Gingersnaps are my favorite, though at Christmas she does a peppermint-and-white-chocolate cookie that’s a serious contender.”

“Sounds like you miss your family.”

“Yeah.”

“Where are you from?”

Ah, an actual question. That means I can ask one back.

“Nebraska, toward the South Dakota and Wyoming side, if that helps.”

“I’ve never met anyone from there.”

Michigan was a long way from home. “I usually get ‘not in Nebraska anymore’ jokes, and then I have to decide if I’m going to remind them that’s Kansas or play along.”

“What do you usually do?”

“Play along.”

“You don’t like conflict, huh?” He sounded normal tonight, as if talking to me wasn’t an unpleasant chore anymore.

That was a relief since I’d come to look forward to these moments with him so much. More, maybe, than I’d like to admit. Right. Friends. I distracted myself by considering his question. “Not if it can be avoided. I’m not what you’d call pugnacious, no. But I like to think I don’t back off important issues. What about you?”

“No.” His voice was bleak and quiet. “I don’t. Even when I should.”

Wow, that took a dark turn.

If I could’ve jumped onto his patio without breaking an ankle or waking Sam, I’d have been down there like a shot. The distance between us seemed intolerable, and from the knot in my throat, I didn’t see how I could live another second without touching him, finding out if his hair was as soft as it looked or what he smelled like. I wanted him in a way I never had before.

In high school, I had a boyfriend who played basketball, and we broke up when I left the state. It was a rational decision, and I didn’t miss him that much once I was gone. My freshman year, I went out with a lot of different guys, one date here, two dates there, but I never clicked with anyone enough to focus on them. Sometimes there were hookups with no strings, no expectations. Classes, friends and work seemed a lot more important. The intensity of this attraction was foreign and frightening, if exhilarating. I might already be backing off if I had the faintest sense that Ty was jerking me around on purpose.

Wish he didn’t make me feel this way. It’d be so much simpler if I could friend-zone him.

I realized I still hadn’t touched his verbal grenade. “We all have things we’d do differently in hindsight.”

“What is it about you?” he asked in a wondering tone.

“Huh?”

“You make me...better. Calmer.”

“Like a sedative?” I snickered. It was the least sexy thing a guy had ever said to me, including a junior high squeeze who said my face wasn’t actually that bad.

He laughed, too, a sheepish sound. “I didn’t mean it like that. Just...I’m worried pretty much all the time that I’m dropping the ball somewhere, about to face-plant, but when I come out here and hear your voice, everything backs off, like, ten steps. I can breathe again.”

God. I swallowed hard, unable to speak for a few seconds.

“I’m glad you look forward to this as much as I do.” The darkness made me brave enough to add, “I wasn’t trying to intrude that first night.”

“I know. But the unit had been vacant for a while. So I guess I forgot I wasn’t alone anymore.” The way he said it summoned a rush of heat, though he couldn’t mean it like that.

We’d only just met then, and I doubted I’d made a great first impression, dropping couches, falling down stairs. It was a wonder he didn’t think I was a danger to myself and others. On the other hand, this was the longest we’d spent together without him retreating, so maybe I was accruing more hash marks in the make Ty want to stick around column.

“Nope,” I said. “You’re stuck with me now.” It occurred to me that I ought to warn him. “By the way, we’re having a party tomorrow night, at least thirty people, and the way word gets around, it may be more like fifty. I hope it won’t be too loud for Sam to sleep.”

There was a long silence. Finally, he said, “Thanks for the heads-up.”

“Are you mad?”

“No, I’m problem-solving. I’ll put him to bed with headphones on. Don’t worry, you’re not the only people with social lives around here, and most of them don’t check in with me.” Rueful tone, as if he was aware he had no right to expect it.

“I’d invite you to come, but—”

“Another time,” he cut in, surprising me. “My folks watch him the last weekend of the month. They tell me to get out, have fun, but I usually just sleep as much as I can.”

“And that’s the only time,” I muttered.

“I heard that.” Incredible as it seemed, I could actually sense the smile in his voice, and I sat forward, peering over the railing to confirm.

My heart skipped when he leaned into the light, a golden glow from his living room, and our eyes met, more of that hungry-looking. I felt the skim of his gaze over my bare shoulders, on the curve of my cheek and the line of my neck. I’d swear to my grave it was the night air, but my nipples actually tightened, just from that look. I licked my lips. He watched me.

“I wasn’t trying to slip it past you.”

“That doesn’t seem like your style,” he agreed.

“I only meant that you look tired. Not that you aren’t also—” I bit my tongue to stanch the flood of potentially humiliating words.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Finish that sentence. Please, Nadia?”

A little shiver went through me. If he ever figured out how much power he wielded over me with those three syllables, I was doomed. He might not even be aware of it, but his voice deepened, softened, just a touch, when he spoke my name. Enough to make me think he might be into me a little bit.

Appealing as all hell. So incredibly hot. Get-in-my-bed sexy. Since I had a single, that wasn’t even a fantasy I could indulge without adding a bunch of details like a hotel room or whatever. I wondered what kind of bed Ty slept in. God, stop thinking about him that way. This can’t happen.

But my mouth wasn’t taking orders from my brain. “On one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“Answer one question for me.”

His voice went flat. “That depends on what it is.”

In that moment, I imagined shutters coming down, gates being drawn across windows for the night. I suspected he thought I was going to ask about Sam’s mom. And I hoped I would surprise him, always, in good ways. It was clear to me he didn’t want to discuss that sort of thing with me. At least not yet. We were baby-new, just starting, whatever we were.

Friends.

So I said, “Tell me what you dream of designing, once you’re a big-deal architect.”

“Oh.” Relief and perplexity colored his tone, warmed it. He was smiling again—I couldn’t resist peeking at him. Ty ate the peanut butter cup as he thought. “It’s good to hear you say it so implicitly, like my success is assured. The road feels really long sometimes.”

“I can imagine.”

“I’ve been in school since I was eighteen, but after Sam was born, I cut down to part-time. Anyway, you didn’t ask to hear me whine.” He paused, tapping at the arm of his chair with a shy look. “Damn. I don’t know if I can answer this after all. I’ve never told anyone.”

That startled me, making the question seem more meaningful than I’d realized. “It’s okay, but...in that case, I won’t be completing my sentence.”

He cursed, the first time I’d heard him swear. My smile felt like it might crack my cheeks. The ache in my chest was back, but it was all things irresistibly sweet and good. I set my fingers on the railing like I could touch him from here, and in tiny, incremental gestures, I traced the almost-distinguishable shape of his features. Someday I wanted to trace his nose like this and kiss his ears and— God. No more. I trembled a little, not from cold, but from want. How crazy, this was the best first date I ever had.

And it wasn’t one. Was it?

Definitely not.

“You drive a hard bargain. Okay. I want to design churches.” He shifted, creaking the love seat, and then went on, “I doubt I’ll be able to right away. I’ll probably end up doing offices or condos to start, but eventually? I would desperately love to design a church someday, see it built from each individual stone to stained glass panels so I can stand inside it and marvel.”

“Why?” I didn’t think it was an odd question. Up until this moment, Ty hadn’t struck me as particularly religious; he didn’t have the Jesus fish on his car.

He exhaled in a soft, trembling sigh. “So I can thank God personally for Sam.”

The need to make such a grand gesture spoke of such a deep, abiding love that tears actually welled up in my eyes. Despite my best efforts, they spilled over, trickling down my cheeks. I covered it by cramming a peanut butter cup into my mouth and washing it down with tepid tea, but it didn’t taste quite right. My voice would probably give me away.

But when I didn’t speak, he said, “That probably sounds dumb. Or pretentious. I can’t believe I—”

“No.” I couldn’t let him think that, and I leaned forward in my chair for emphasis. “Not at all. It’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever heard. Sam is so lucky to have you, Ty.”

“I’m the lucky one. I just wish I could remember it for more than five minutes at a time.” He paused, cocking his head, and I drew back, not wanting him to see but it was too late. “Are you crying?”

“Maybe a little. Shut up. It’s just...so very sweet.” My voice broke slightly, and I swiped at my eyes, embarrassed at how easily he got to me.

He could reach right into my chest and pluck out my heart.

“I’m glad I told you,” he said softly.

“Me, too.”

“But we had a deal, remember? No backing out.”

“I wouldn’t.” Finding the right words felt like a lightning-fast fencing match in my brain. Deliberately I repeated what I’d babbled only in my head before, measured this time, conscious of what I was putting out there between us. It didn’t matter if this was a bad idea. I’d promised.

“Not that you aren’t also...hot as hell, completely irresistible in every conceivable way.”

A sharp intake of breath from Ty.

Once I said it, I didn’t have the guts to wait for his reply. Quickly, I grabbed my stuff and carried it inside, closing the glass doors firmly behind me. Shaking like a leaf, I padded to my room and shut that door, as well, like he might be chasing me. The wood was all that held me upright. God only knew what I’d say to Lauren if she came home right now, because I wasn’t ready to dish.

Not by a long shot.

Even then, I suspected what was to come between us. His silent, secret yearning to build a church for his son marked the beginning of my complete and utter fascination with the man downstairs. Yoga breathing steadied my nerves, but not the flutters deep in my belly. I’d lobbed the ball pretty firmly into his court.

Now I just had to wait and see if he’d pass or play.