I jump in my seat, startled.
“You let me fall asleep,” I accuse him. “You know this exam is worth a quarter of my final grade.”
“You’re welcome,” Auggie says before taking a sip from his favorite coffee mug. “Word to the wise, all-nighters are shit. You might as well show up drunk.”
“If I show up late, I might as well be drunk,” I mutter bitterly.
Auggie laughs. “Ah, Snider’s tardy policy hasn’t let up with age, huh?”
“You better believe it.” I check my watch. “Ok, if I leave in the next five minutes, I can still catch the bus. I’ll be alright.”
“Perfect,” Auggie says over some loud crackling sounds. “Don’t forget to take your lunch.”
I finally look over at what the fuck he’s doing. He sets a paper bag down in front of me along with a to-go mug. The contents are a bunch of snacks, and another one of those pasta salads he’s been so excited to make lately.
“And here’s a croissant for the road,” he offers as he hands me some warm buttery goodness-bread.
I moan. His croissants are the best. Very crispy on the outside. It smells like heaven and they taste buttery with a hint of vanilla. If I had time, I’d cut it and spread some of his signature raspberry jam before I eat it, but as the clock on his microwave says, it’s time to go before my life is over.
“Aw, you shouldn’t have,” I say.
Auggie shrugs. “It wasn’t that hard to whip something up. Can’t be a restaurateur without knowing how to cook a thing or two, right?”
I nod as I take a bite of my croissant. It’s so good it’s unfair. How dare he bribe me with his delicious food.
“Yeah, I’ll call your dad right now. Tell him he’d be crazy not to fire his executive chef and hire you immediately,” I say, putting my things away.
Auggie shoves me playfully and gives me a second croissant. “Don’t you have a test to not flunk?”
I groan and moan when I take a bite of my delicious pastry. Do I really have to go? Even when I want to say no, I do what I have to and walk toward the door.
“Wish me luck!”
When I shut the door I can still hear Auggie shouting, “You won’t need it!” after me.
Smirking as I sprint to the bus stop, I just laugh to myself. It’s been a little over a year since I met Auggie, but I can’t imagine my life without him. Even though he was a bit of a jerk in the beginning, he’s turned into one of the most important people in my life. Thank fuck we both push away the bad stuff…and the incredible kiss we shared.
I guess first impressions are usually wrong, and where I was a year ago means very little now.
Who knew?
✩✩✩
There are a few things I miss about Cave Creek. The sense of community, the warm weather, and Dad. When I applied for college, I was thinking only about one thing, my father. He wanted a better life for me.
There’s nothing wrong with his life. He’s a contractor who never runs out of work. The house we live in is quaint. It’s close enough to Phoenix—only a forty-minute drive. Far enough that we can live in a small town where you look after your neighbor, don’t have to worry if the doors are closed, and your children are safe playing in the streets.
This small college reminds me of home in some ways. The sense of living in a small community. Though I know if I leave my backpack unattended someone is going to snatch it in less than five minutes, but that’s a different story.
The real bonus about living here is the short distances between my school, the dorm, and work. On the other hand, it reminds me so much of home that I get homesick. Well, that’s really the only con, yet it’s enough to make me want to go back to Arizona.
There are other reasons I would consider leaving college…some of my classes are dull. Like this one. This marketing class is a requirement for my major, but it’s also one of the most tedious courses I’ve ever had the displeasure of taking. The professor thinks he’s God’s gift to the world for educating people he clearly can barely stand.
It’s fascinating how few shits he gives the further the semester goes on. Except for attendance. That seems to be the only thing this class holds us accountable for. Honestly, I’m a little sick of taking business classes.
I thought that at some point, I would get used to them. But so far, all I do is skate through exams, projects, and assignments I barely care about.
Isn’t the point of college to challenge and inspire students?
When does that start?
“Next Thursday we have a quiz,” the teacher says and everyone groans.
Me, I try to breathe through the small panic attack. I have a paper to finish for tomorrow and a project that’s due Thursday morning. When am I supposed to find time to study for this quiz?
I’m doomed.
I gather all my things and rush to the door, praying that my best friend took pity on me. This Tuesday has just started, and it’s been awful. And I grin as I spot Auggie outside leaning against the wall, holding a cup that hopefully is for me and smiling when he sees me.
Fortunately, one of the upsides to taking marketing this semester is Auggie has a class on the other side of the building next to one of the local coffee shop’s annexes. He picks up coffee for both of us, and then grabs me on his way back to his place.
Finding him waiting for me at the back exit of the lecture hall after this class is what makes showing up really worth it...besides the threat of a half-step grade dock if I didn’t show up every day.
A bunch of my classmates wave at him.
One chick says, “Don’t forget to call me, Agustin .”
Poor thing, she succumbed to his charm.
I want to tell her, “He’s never going to call you, sweetie.”
Why bother? They just don’t get it. Everyone on campus knows Auggie doesn’t date. He’s not exactly a playboy, but…who am I kidding, the guy is a player.
Agustin Beltran is good looking. Hot, as Paris Hilton would say. We can catalog him as the perfect Latin lover. Antonio Banderas, Benjamin Bratt, or Tyler Posey have nothing on Auggie.
Dark hair with the slightest wave. He has hazel eyes which I swear get browner when he’s mad and greener when he smiles. Broad chest, lean body, and a smirk which is alluring.
The guy’s attractive. I could lie and say he’s not my type, but a hunk like him is everyone’s type. If we had met under other circumstances, I’d be one of the hundreds of girls pining for him.
Or worse, I’d be waiting for his call after hooking up with him.
“Hey,” I greet him once I reach him.
“Your usual, m’lady,” Auggie says as he hands me my usual soy caramel latte.
“Wow, what a gentleman,” I reply jokingly.
Auggie rolls his eyes, grinning. “You always say that.”
“Then maybe you should stop reacting to it,” I suggest as I lead him out of the lecture hall.
“What? And give up seeing you smile after the class you dubbed, quote, ‘the worst waste of my time’,” he says.
“I’m not wrong,” I remind him.
“You’re the one who wanted to be a business major,” he says. “Business, marketing, yeah, they go hand in hand. I don’t see how you thought you were going to get out of this one.”
I shrug. “It’s not even that I hate marketing. It just feels so...rudimentary? Been there done that? You can just stop me if I’m making no sense.”
It’s also just difficult putting up with classes that are clearly geared toward people who are less interested in entrepreneurial endeavors and mostly just want a generic degree that will look good when their parents ultimately hire them at their companies.
Except for Auggie. He’s working his butt off to be a part of his dad’s restaurant dynasty.
“No, I get you,” Auggie says. “Some of the things they teach are really important and insightful, and some of it is shit we could look up anywhere, or they’ve said so many times over the years that it�
�s pretty useless.”
“Exactly,” I say. “How many times can I hear someone say, ‘meet the customers needs’ when they ignore that most of their employees are customers.”
I shiver and rub my arm with my free hand. “It’s freaking freezing.”
Fall here is really something. The foliage is so lush and vibrant. Even though it’s mostly evergreens up here, there’s still a fair share of trees turning shades of scarlet and tangerine as the weather gets colder.
The window for fall is pretty small in Colorado. One moment it’s here and the next it’s a six-month period of weather fluctuating from ‘fake spring’, ‘Indian summer’, and ‘the dead of winter.’
Winter here is unpredictable. It’s also as fragile as a glass picture frame. Actually, the weather all year round is that way. The sun is deceiving. It shines all year long but that doesn’t mean it’s warm.
Auggie shrugs, then takes a look at me and shakes his head. He takes off his sweatshirt and hands it to me.
“When are you going to buy a coat?” he asks.
Giving him the coffee, I put on the sweatshirt. I sigh. It smells heavenly. Woodsy with a hint of vanilla and him.
“I already have a thick coat for the winter. Your weather doesn’t make sense.”
“It’s not my weather. How many times do I have to tell you that you have to layer up,” he states for the millionth time. “That’s the best way to survive the climate changes around here—and buy a lighter coat.”
Are you paying? Because a coat isn’t in my budget. Instead of saying that, I say, “How’s anybody supposed to buy their products if no one can afford to get to work?”
Listen, he might be right about the coat but I’m not going to add an expense that seems unnecessary. If I complain about it, he’s going to bring me a coat. I love the guy but I’m not his charity case.
“And that,” Auggie continues, “is why I never try to think too hard about this.”
I scrunch my nose. “Why?”
We slow down as the quad fills up with people on their way to their next class. It feels nice, getting lost in a crowd like this with one of my best buds safely latching arms with me.
“It makes me mad and when I get mad, I get stupid,” he says with a wry smile and a shrug. “And we both know we can’t have more angry assholes around.”
I laugh. “Guess not.”
The library is halfway between Auggie’s house and the quad. But also, halfway between Auggie’s house and my dorm. It’s a good meeting spot for when the weather’s shitty or the buses are taking too long or we just feel like meeting in the middle. It’s become one of my favorite places on campus because it reminds me of Auggie.
Auggie drops me off at the library a few minutes later, like he does most days.
He hugs me with one arm. “I’ll see you later, alright?”
“Definitely,” I confirm.
I watch him as he walks away. I feel really lucky to have a friend like him in my life.
Six
George
The nice thing about having an upperclassman friend with a car in town and access to the city is that I can get rides with him whenever I want. The downside is favors often get repaid. Which, when you’re a contractor’s daughter, often involve messes and his crumbling house.
His dad thought that buying this dump would be a great idea. A college kid wouldn’t need something that’s up to code. This house needs a complete remodel. Instead of talking to his dad about what needs maintenance, I end up patching things up around his place.
Today’s crisis is Auggie’s kitchen sink, and possibly garbage disposal, which seem to be on the fritz. So, an hour and a half plus one dismantled sink later, and I’m beyond ready to call in my next favor. I think he owes me a trip to the nearest mall and free coffee for a week. Not that he ever lets me pay when he’s around. Maybe I can convince him to bake for me.
“Well, the good news is you didn’t break the garbage disposal. We probably could’ve just bought a drain snake for this job,” I say.
“You’re sure it’s not broken?” he asks.
“Auggie, I love you with all my heart,” I say as I climb out from underneath the sink. “But if you ever question me like this ever again, I will ruin your entire home in the most expensive way possible.”
He winces. “Noted, sorry. I know you’re the expert—”
“Thank you,” I say, cutting him off. “Your apology is under consideration.”
He gawks. “You’re the only person I know who doesn’t just accept apologies.”
I roll my eyes. “Not every apology is a good one. Not every person deserves to be redeemed.”
Auggie rolls his eyes. “More wisdom from your old man?”
“He’s a smart, well-read middle-aged man,” I say petulantly. “Who just so happens to read a lot of parenting and self-help books.”
“Ah, single dad syndrome,” Auggie says. “Perfectionism to overcompensate for...I don’t know what.”
My parents, much like Auggie’s, married very young. My parents loved each other fiercely. My mother was Mexican, the only child of a single mother. I don’t remember my grandmother, who’s the namesake of my middle name, Angelina.
My maternal grandmother died in the same car accident Mom did. Ever since Mom died, I’ve been watched by a combination of aunties, uncles, and cousins on a rotating schedule.
My dad, Eli, was at home when he could, but no matter what he always made sure to tuck me in at night after reading me a story. Once I was old enough, we ran errands together, sometimes I went with him to work, or he’d be dropping me off with one of my relatives before heading out for another job.
He’s a good man. The amount of love and care he put into me makes me the person I am today. I’m confident and self-assured because my dad always took the time to help me love and recognize myself.
I don’t think I could live this far from home if I didn’t know that my dad, and my whole family back home for that matter, were cheering me on. Dad’s made so many sacrifices to give me as much love and opportunities as possible.
That love is giving as much as you can because you care, and that personal sacrifice doesn’t always come with an equal transaction. But it can come with satisfaction and self-fulfillment. So yeah, I guess he is a pretty smart guy.
That’s just my dad though. Auggie’s always cagey when someone mentions his dad being single, or his mom for that matter.
“What happened to your mom?” I ask, before frantically adding. “If it’s alright to ask.”
Auggie nods before hopping onto the kitchen island. “She was Canadian. An exchange student for that matter. I came along during their senior year of high school. They married because that was the right thing to do but…”
“You think she didn’t love him?”
He shrugs. “I guess to some extent. At least, she cared enough to marry him and have two more children. I remember her being loving to us but never happy. She barely smiled. One day her parents called. There was a family emergency. She flew to Ottawa.”
Auggie’s eyes glaze over. He’s an enigma when he loses himself like this. He seems so young and carefree, until something pushes his buttons. It ages him a decade or so. Makes him look ragged and worn.
It reminds me that Auggie, like most people our age, is another bad day away from either turning his life around or completely crumbling. It makes me appreciate how much perseverance he has to keep going, despite everything.
“She said she’d be gone for a few days …” he says finally. “Two weeks later, she was calling to say she wasn’t coming back.”
I get up and walk across the room to hug Auggie. He’s a good hugger normally, but it’s nice to know that I can give him back in kind as well.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask if she ever called, or if they ever went to visit her, but I don’t want to push him far. I get it now. Talking about Mom hurts a little because I miss her. However, I remember her with love.
“It’s fine,” he says, smiling tightly as he wipes something off his face. “We couldn’t make her happy. Hopefully someone does now.”
He doesn’t say it, but I hear it—we weren’t enough for her. Heart aching deeply for my best friend, I just nod. This guy is so full of love, how can he doubt himself because of the actions of one person? Because the woman who said he wasn’t enough was his mother. The one person who’s supposed to love him unconditionally.
“You make a lot of people happy, Auggie. I hope you know that.” And I really mean it.
He doesn’t answer. He’s so guarded and tries not to be vulnerable, but I know he feels more than he wants to let us know. A part of me wants to just keep his heart guarded. No wonder he hides who he really is from everyone.
He chuckles.
“Maybe,” he says dismissively. “But keep telling me that, I like the sound of it.”
Auggie’s really good at deflecting. I don’t know if most people realize that he’s constantly pushing them away. If it’s because he doesn’t want to burden them with his emotions or because he doesn’t realize how scared he is of intimacy?
The jury is still pondering those questions though, and I’m inclined to think it’s a little of both.
“C’mon,” I say, letting him distract me this time. “This is your disgusting drain. You should be cleaning it.”
He groans dramatically, flailing his arms as he begrudgingly gets up. Auggie’s fantastic at everything he does but most of all in how he always manages to make me smile. I just wish he would just let me be there for him sometimes.
Seven
George
I don’t crumble easily. That doesn’t mean I don’t have bad days. There’re two days I have trouble dealing with, Mom’s birthday and the anniversary of her death. Every year I promise myself to handle it better, but ultimately, it’s always the same. The grief sneaks up on me quietly and takes me under its arms in an instant.
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