I Want It That Way

by Ann Aguirre

  “Careful, if the kids see it, they’ll ask for seconds.”

  In five minutes, I scarfed the corn dog, carrots and celery, and the apple slices. It wasn’t enough to fill me up, but I’d be nicer to a class full of four-year-olds if my stomach wasn’t growling the whole time. With thirty seconds to spare, I darted into Mrs. Trent’s room, feeling like I’d won the Boston Marathon.

  “You’re all sweaty,” Sam said, running over to hug me.

  I patted him on the head. Sometimes it was hard not to show favoritism. “Why did the dinosaur cross the road?”

  “To get to the other side?”

  “Good guess, but no. Because the chicken hadn’t been invented yet!”

  He giggled. “That was stupid.”

  “Hey, you’re the one who loves these.” Hopefully, the internet wouldn’t run out of dinosaur material before he grew out of this stage.

  I survived Friday and spent the weekend studying, as this was my last chance; next week I’d be taking midterms. Lauren and I didn’t talk much, but Angus was doing better, so Thursday night was worth the drama. Max was around less both Saturday and Sunday. If he was prepping for his exams or working more, I had no idea.

  Sunday night, I got a text from Ty.

  I’m free the weekend of the 25th. Are you?

  That was next weekend. I might be wiped from midterms, work and the practicum, but I had no plans.

  What did you have in mind? I sent back.

  You. Me. All weekend.

  Suddenly I had more energy than I knew what to do with. My hands actually trembled when I asked,

  Are you asking me to spend the weekend with you?

  At my place, he clarified, like I really thought we were going on vacation together.

  Can’t wait.

  That was a massive understatement.

  During the next week, the promise of the twenty-fifth acted on me like a lure, spurring me on. I didn’t sleep at all Sunday night, and on Monday, I was bleary-eyed but jacked up on energy drinks. I raced through the tests like the information was liquid that might trickle out my ears and onto my desk. My brain actually felt like that might be true.

  At work, I was so sluggish, Sam noticed. I was sitting in one of the tiny chairs, watching the kids color, when he turned to me. “You look sad, Nadia.”

  “Just tired.”

  “You were tired before,” he noted. “Dad is, too. It makes him grumpy.”

  Hearing Sam’s impression of Ty put a smile on my face. “Being a grown-up is hard. I’m not very good at it yet, I suspect.”

  “Then stop,” he advised.

  It was a compelling suggestion, but I didn’t think my parents or my academic adviser would be amused to find me hiding in a ball pit while screaming the Toys R Us theme song. But it seemed like a good idea to warn Mrs. Trent that I might be less than stellar this week.

  “Midterms,” she guessed.

  “Yeah. So if I seem like I’ve taken up recreational drugs, I promise it’s just exhaustion, so don’t make me pee in a cup.”

  “Noted.”

  She went easy on me the rest of the day, and on Tuesday morning, she found jobs that required me to sit and watch the kids a lot. Not that I was complaining. I resolved to work extra hard for her once I got over this hurdle. Instead of going to Chuck E. Cheese’s, I took my Tuesday exams and then fell asleep hugging my tablet, trying to cram even more for Wednesday morning. The final was tough enough that it made my practicum feel like a welcome break; at least there was no test.

  At work, I responded to Ty’s texts, though they were sporadic and low-key, stuff like, Thinking of you and Is it Friday yet? That night when I got home, Lauren had dinner ready, plus her famous oatmeal cookies. I took the gesture as an apology.

  “Are we good?” she asked.

  “Yeah. I think this is the longest we’ve ever not been. Is your mom sick?” It was the only thing I could think of.

  She shook her head. “No, it’s... I just did a stupid thing, that’s all.”

  “What?”

  “Max.”

  For a minute, I wasn’t sure I heard right. “Huh?”

  “I wasn’t in our room that night because I was in Max’s.” But from her expression, that wasn’t good.

  “Don’t tell me he’s terrible.”

  “No, the sex was fine.”

  Suddenly, I thought I understood the problem. “And now you’ve hooked up with someone we live with, and it’s kind of weird.”

  “Yep. I can’t look at him now, and he leaves the room pretty much as soon as I walk in. I don’t know what we were thinking.”

  Oh, Lauren. He was thinking, finally. This must be killing Max.

  On some level, I’d registered that he wasn’t around much anymore, but I had so much stuff going on that I couldn’t keep tabs on all of them. Sometimes I had to get my own house in order before I could do any freelance cleaning, so to speak. Unfortunately, there was no way to clue her in without breaking his confidence.

  “What are you going to do?” I decided on a noncommittal response.

  “Right now, I’m mostly surprised you’re not making fun of me. Max, of all people.” She shook her head, sighing.

  Restraining a wince on his behalf, I answered, “Like I would.”

  It was clear she saw the whole thing as good sex, bad idea, which meant she had no inkling how he felt. Punching him in the head might be my next move. Lauren thought she was no more important than anyone else he’d slept with. Good luck changing her mind, I thought.

  “Try to act normal. So you’re friends with benefits.” The irony of me saying that didn’t escape me. “It’s not that big a deal, right?”

  “I don’t think we’ll be benefiting each other again,” she said.

  “Why not?”

  “It was...” She paused, as if trying to organize her thoughts. “It happened for the wrong reason, that’s all.”

  “Were you drunk?” I tried not to sound judgmental.

  “It’s complicated.” Her expression darkened.

  Somehow I didn’t think Max had done anything to warrant that look. If I had to guess, I’d say she was thinking of her father. The guy hadn’t called or written since he left ten years ago. It wasn’t an exaggeration to figure she had daddy issues, and there was a reason why she preferred no-strings sex to getting deep. Relationships required trust, and she didn’t have much to spare.

  Since she’d opened up, I should do the same, as much as I could. “Speaking of beneficial arrangements, I’m kinda seeing the guy downstairs.”

  “Hot Ginger?”

  “Stop calling him that. His name is Ty.”

  “And you’re dating? How long has this been going on?”

  “Let’s say we’re conducting field research to find out if the friends with benefits thing can ever really work out.”

  “So you’re fuck buddies.”

  “Not yet,” I muttered. “But I have high hopes for this weekend.”

  “I’d tell you to be careful, but given my own situation, I feel like that’d just be inviting some pot-kettle commentary.”

  “Whatever. Let’s watch TV before I go back to studying. How are midterms going?”

  There, now she knows about Ty. He’s not my secret anymore.

  She shrugged. “I’m not off to an awesome start this semester, so...about as well as I expected. I hope to do better on finals.”

  Angus came home while we were watching a cooking show. He dismissed the contestants with a wave of a hand. “Amateurs. How are my two favorite ladies?”

  “Sleepy,” I said. “But determined to reread the last of the material before tomorrow. I’ll catch you guys later.”

  Taking my tablet, I got into bed, which probably wasn’t the best move. I read half a chapter before passing out, and when my alarm went off in the morning, I fell out of bed trying to turn it off. If I was rich, I could break clocks on a daily basis, just for the satisfaction of shutting them up permanently. Of course, be
ing independently wealthy would also likely mean I could sleep as long as I wanted.

  With a sigh, I crawled into the shower. My whole body ached with weariness. I had been skipping out on sleep, trying to make it up in caffeine, and I was about to hit my tipping point. I felt so shitty, I didn’t even care about the weekend with Ty. By the time Friday arrived, I’d be in no shape to enjoy it. I washed that bitter thought down with some coffee and granola, then I headed to work.

  Thursday. Thursday sucks.

  When I pulled into the Rainbow Academy parking lot, I was in no mood to deal with children. This foul mood seemed etched in stone until Ty came out of the building. He usually dropped Sam off earlier; must be running late. My first instinct was to let him go, but as if he sensed me watching him, like that first night on his balcony, he spun until he found me looking.

  “Nadia.” I swore I heard him say my name from all the way over here, his expression brightening like I was all the good things in the world. Then he was jogging toward me.

  I’d rarely seen him all put-together for work. Usually, I saw the aftermath of a long day, wrinkled pants, ink-stained tie. But this Ty was crisp and gorgeous: navy trousers and jacket, white shirt, red-and-blue-striped tie. More conservative than I’d have pictured, but he looked amazingly sharp for a guy who had wrangled a four-year-old before work.

  By comparison, I felt like a crumpled dollar bill.

  “Best morning ever,” he said.

  Before I could ask what he meant, he pushed me up against the car and kissed me. In the side lot, it was doubtful anyone could see us, certainly not Sam, and I wanted this too much to push him away. His mouth was magical, chock-full of endorphins and sweetness. He was syrup and pancakes for the soul.

  “Wow,” I said, breathless.

  “Yep.” Such a lazy, delicious smile. Why had I never noticed how devilish he could be? “I might start leaving ten minutes later, if this is the payoff. Hate to kiss and run. I just needed a top-up to last until tomorrow night.”

  When I realized I was that close to finishing midterms, I nearly burst into tears. “What time should I be there?”

  Ty was already rushing toward his car, long legs putting distance between us. I’d never seen him run before, and I was transfixed by the sheer, animal grace of him. He called over his shoulder, “Should be home by nine. I’ll text as soon as I pull up.”

  Like I won’t be watching.

  The memory of that kiss carried me through my morning shift and through afternoon exams. Somehow I lived through Friday, as well, and then I drove home, unable to believe I’d come out on the other side with my sanity intact. Stumbling into the apartment, I didn’t see anyone at first, but as I closed the door, I spotted Max just standing in the kitchen, leaning on the fridge; I hadn’t seen him since I’d talked to Lauren on Wednesday.

  “It works better if you open it,” I said.

  When he turned, I sucked in a sharp breath. Scratches and bruises marred his face, and one of his eyes was nearly swollen shut. I dropped my backpack and raced to his bedroom door, anticipating his next move, and I was barely fast enough to stop him from pushing past me.

  “I don’t want to talk,” he said.

  “Okay.” Though I originally planned to hop in the shower and get ready for tonight, I had time. Grabbing his arm, I tugged him into his bedroom and shut the door behind us.

  “Don’t take this the wrong way, Conrad, but I’m not remotely in the mood.”

  Smirking, I ignored the lame joke aimed at saving face and picked up a game controller. “Let’s shoot some things.”

  He sighed. “You won’t go away?”

  “In an hour, I will.”

  “Fine.” Max plopped down on his bed and put in a noisy, violent game. For a good half hour, neither of us said a word, just tag-teaming on zombies. This wasn’t my favorite type of game, and I was usually too busy to play them, but it was worth it when he stopped looking quite so fucking alone.

  Eventually, he paused the game and flopped backward on his bed. “You’re not asking.”

  “Do you want me to?”

  “Not really.”

  “There you go, then.” Gently I put a hand on his head.

  To my surprise, Max sat up and hugged me. Not really understanding, I wrapped my arms around him and rubbed his back. His breath came in ragged gulps, and he wasn’t crying, but it felt the same, just endless waves of shudders mixed with painful gasps. I just held him and said nothing because I knew Lauren had to be mixed up in it somehow. She hadn’t mentioned a fight the other day, but maybe this was a new development.

  In time, he pulled away, still battered, still bruised, but there was a hint of a shy smile in his eyes. I’d call that progress.

  “You’re not so bad,” he said.

  “This is your home, okay? Don’t roam the streets looking for trouble. There are people here who love you.”

  “Do you love me?” He pretended to leer.

  “I’d call you the annoying brother I never had, but I have one already. So you can be my irritating cousin.” I stood up, stretched and caught sight of the clock.

  Shit. It was past eight, and I’d left my phone in my backpack. If Ty got home early, he must be wondering where the hell I am. I’m not standing you up, I promise.

  “You can clock out. I’m fine.” Max smiled, the motion pulling at his split lip.

  After stepping out of his room, I immediately checked my messages. Relief surged through me when I realized Ty must still be with his parents. I emptied my backpack of notebooks and tablet, then added my phone and charger, two pairs of underwear, a couple of T-shirts, my toothbrush. I’d never spent the weekend with a guy before, at home or otherwise. I had no idea what to bring. Though I suspected I didn’t need it, I put in my cosmetic bag.

  Maybe I should’ve cooked something? Is it weird to assume we’ll be naked the whole time? Should I pack more pants? Pajamas? With a shrug, I decided I could run upstairs for anything I needed, though I was trying to avoid the teasing and inquisition from my roomies. Bizarre enough that this sex-a-thon would take place in our building. The usual presex rituals calmed me a little. I showered, waxed, moisturized and then put on yoga pants and a T-shirt for easy off/on. Maybe I should dress to impress, instead, but I had the feeling anything I wore would end up on his floor. Hope so, anyway.

  At fifteen after nine, my phone beeped. Ty:

  I’m home in 5 4 3 2...you ready?

  You have no idea.

  I ran down the stairs to meet him.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Ty was stepping inside when I reached the foyer. At the front doors, he squeezed me close, kissed my forehead and then left his arm around my shoulders as he moved us toward his place. “You have no idea how much I’ve been looking forward to this weekend.”

  “It got me through midterms,” I confessed.

  That prompted a smile as he unlocked the door and flipped on the lights. This was the messiest I’d ever seen his place, likely because he had to feed Sam, pack for day care, plus the weekend bag, and get his son out of the house early. This was probably the first time he’d been back all day. It didn’t bother me, but Ty went around collecting stray toys, like he didn’t want any reminders. He stuffed them in the trunk and then turned to me.

  “Let me take a quick shower, okay?” I was a little surprised that he didn’t suggest taking one together, and he must’ve read that in my face, because he added with a small grin, “Shower sex can be complicated. We need to work up to it. Plus, I want to take my time in bed, not worrying about how much hot water we have left.”

  “I like the way you think.”

  He disappeared into the bathroom, and I turned on the TV. Now that we were finally on the cusp of changing everything, butterflies flapped like pterodactyls in my stomach. There had been so much buildup, so much tension. What if reality couldn’t live up to expectations? I was frowning at an infomercial when Ty came into the living room, toweling his hair dry.

&
nbsp; “You don’t believe that nonstick cookware traps the flavor inside and requires no oil?”

  The flutter inside me turned into a different feeling when I realized he was naked, apart from the blue towel knotted around his waist. My gaze slipped to his feet, second toes longer than the first, traveled up to well-muscled calves and lean thighs. Skipping upward, I admired the beads of water clinging to his chest. His stomach was slightly ridged, not a six-pack—he didn’t have time for that—but cut enough to tempt me to trace the lines. Broad shoulders, strong arms, he was the total package, and even more when you considered how smart and funny he was, what an amazing person.

  When I shifted my gaze upward, he was flushed, either with excitement or embarrassment. “Damn. That look felt like foreplay. I was going to offer you a drink, but—”

  “I’m not thirsty.”

  “Then turn that off. Too much TV is bad for you.”

  Smiling, I stood up and he took my hand. We walked down the hall toward his room, and I noticed that Sam’s door was closed. Symbolic, most likely—representing Ty’s commitment to keeping these two parts of his life separate. He had a full-size bed with a black wrought-iron headboard, and it was already turned back, revealing brown sheets beneath the blue-and-brown circle-patterned comforter.

  He turned and put his palm to my cheek. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve never had a woman in this bed.”

  Perversely, I was glad to hear that. Even if we never had a regular relationship, this part of him was mine. “I thought you said it had only been—”

  “I go out occasionally, pick someone up, either at a bar or a party. Then we go to her place. I don’t stay the night.”

  Put that way, it sounded depressing, not the right mood for our first time. But I couldn’t help asking, “How is that better than beating off?”

  A wry smile. “I’m not alone. Let’s not talk about this, okay?”

  “I just need to ask one more thing.”

  “Feel free.”

  “Will you still be doing that while we’re doing this?” I tried not to sound bothered because we didn’t have a commitment.