Ann Aguirre - I Want It That Way

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.

Friday morning, Angus was so hungover he couldn’t move without moaning.

I couldn’t stay home to coddle him, though; maybe Lauren or Max would take over. Before I left, I put water, crackers and ibuprofen on his bedside table. He fumbled through the remedies then pulled the covers over his head.

“You’ll be okay,” I told him.

“Thanks, Nadia.” The words came out muffled.

Exhausted, I ate breakfast, rushed out to class and then drove to C-Cool. Talking and texting, students eddied around me. A few kids were already in Ms. Parker’s room; one of them liked to follow me around, which freaked me out at the beginning of the year. Now I chatted with her while putting away my things. All things considered, the practicum went well. Instead of getting in my mentor’s way, I anticipated her requests a couple of times.