I Want It That Way

by Ann Aguirre

  “You look tired,” she said. “Everything okay?”

  It surprised me that she could tell. He didn’t seem shocked by her insight, though. “Yeah. I just have some stuff going on.”

  “Awesome or awful?”

  “Good. Or it will be, if it pans out.”

  Her voice softened. “Keep me posted.”

  Their conversation intrigued me, but I couldn’t grill Rob about his dreams or goals without him getting defensive. We kept in touch through occasional emails, but mostly, I sent him music recs because I didn’t know what else to say. Around nine, the party broke up and afterward, I crashed on the couch with my parents in front of the tube. Rob didn’t get home from dropping Avery off until long after I went to my room.

  The next day, I went shopping with Lauren, Mrs. Barrett and my mom. Getting to the nearest mall took forty-five minutes, something that didn’t used to bother me. Fortunately, the others talked enough not to notice that I was tetchy. My mother’s comments about Ty still chewed at me, working under my skin.

  Yet Lauren shone brighter than I’d seen in weeks, just hanging out with our moms. Mrs. Barrett was hilarious, offering her outfits she’d never wear, and Lauren tried them on, modeling with mock-verve. Shaking the cranky face, I got in the spirit of absurd fashion and accepted my mom’s choice of ruffled fuchsia cocktail explosion. The gown looked hideous on me, accentuating my broad shoulders, so I really resembled a dude in drag.

  “This is awesome.” Lauren held her stomach, laughing. “I miss this.”

  You live with me. We could do this anytime. Maybe for her, it wasn’t the same without our mothers snapping embarrassing pictures and threatening to save them for posterity. By the time we headed home, my mood had shifted from melancholy to pensive. I really wish I could talk to Ty. He’d been so helpful in regard to Lauren before; possibly I shouldn’t get used to talking about important stuff with him, though. I had no idea where I should draw the line between sex and friendship, how long before I stumbled past what he could accept.

  “Penny for them,” Dad said.

  “If I made that deal, I’d feel guilty for overcharging you.” Leaning down, I kissed his forehead and went upstairs, simultaneously worn out and wound up.

  Shortly after I got in bed, Ty texted. It was almost eleven here, which meant it must be close to one at home.

  Can you talk?

  Yep. Call me.

  My bedroom door was shut, and my phone on vibrate, so it wouldn’t bother anyone else. I picked up on the first buzz.

  All desire for serious conversation flew out of my head when he greeted me with, “Hope you’re up for this. Because I’m ready to let you watch.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  “Hang on,” I whispered.

  The idea of doing this in my childhood bedroom was even dirtier, but I didn’t protest. Instead, I locked the door then tiptoed back to bed. It seemed unlikely that Mom or Dad would come for a midnight chat, but I’d rather not risk it. Once I was settled, I picked the phone up.

  “Still there?”

  “Count on it.” His voice in my ear was delicious. Hard to believe we were a thousand miles apart.

  “I’ve never done anything like this, so—”

  “You just need to install an app. I did some checking and this is the safest. Not that I think you’d turn me into online porn.”

  “If you’re nervous, we can just talk.” I didn’t even mean phone sex.

  “It’s fine. I want to. I miss you. I’ll text you my account info and you can call me once you get set up.”

  “Okay. Talk to you soon.”

  I found the app fast, and thankfully, my parents had used the same Wi-Fi password for years. There was essentially no internet on my cell otherwise, and I had only one bar for voice calls. Once I got connected, it didn’t take long to get the software downloaded and installed, then I just had to create an account. While I was doing that, Ty sent his username. I added him as a contact and waited for him to validate. Five minutes later, I clicked the video chat button and waited for him to pick up.

  There you are.

  I recognized his bedroom right off, but I was more focused on the bashful half smile he was wearing and the shirt he wasn’t. “Hey, you.”

  “The things I do for you,” he murmured.

  “I’m not sure how this is supposed to go. It sounds hot, but I’ve never—”

  “Just tell me what you want to see.”

  My breath stuttered as a hot flush washed through me. Yeah, I liked that idea. My voice came out husky. “Sit down. Take your pants off. Show me how you do it when I’m not around.”

  “When I’m thinking about you?”

  “I hope so.”

  “Lately, that’s always,” he said huskily.

  This was working for me in a big way, and he hadn’t even done anything yet. “I may play, too, but the camera on my phone isn’t very good.”

  “Your face is enough. Just let me see what you’re feeling.”

  This face, you show me everything.

  “Definitely.”

  He moved, stripping like I’d asked and for a few seconds, he was out of sight, and then he settled in bed. The lights were dim enough that it was shadowed and sexy, but I could still see him. I wasn’t sure how it looked on my end, but he was fully, gorgeously on display. No question at all that he was into this. His cock was long and hard, jutting toward his stomach. Licking my lips, I admired the lean slope of his abs and the taut muscles of his splayed thighs.

  “How’s that?” he asked, low.

  “Mouthwatering.”

  A little growl escaped him as he squirted some lotion into his palm and went to work with his fist, showing me exactly how he handled things without me. Ty was quick and rough, no finesse, no preliminaries. He was almost completely silent, too, just the jagged gust of his quickening breaths. I wanted to talk, but I was afraid it would distract him, and anything I said might sound scripted.

  “Nadia,” he whispered. “Is this good?”

  I realized he needed encouragement; this was about mutual pleasure, not anonymous voyeurism. “Really hot. I’m...I’m joining you.”

  He moaned then, increasing his speed. His fist pumped faster, and the camera showed me each arch and flex, the way his thighs tensed. Ty clenched his jaw and his head fell back, as I slipped a hand into my panties. With the other, I held on to the phone, not wanting to miss a glimpse. My breath quickened; I was already wet, aching for an orgasm. Gently, quickly, I tapped against my clit, seeing how my arousal affected him. Ty’s hand was moving faster now. So was mine.

  “Want you so bad, it’s nuts.”

  “Do you like me watching you?”

  “Yeah.” The answer was ragged, drawn into a moan.

  “I need you to come, so I can. I need to see it.”

  The words sparked through him like electricity—and there were slick sounds, like actual fucking, as he pumped harder, growling with each tug. When he let go, spurting on his belly, he was panting and staring directly at me, a thousand times hotter than I could’ve imagined. I pinched my clit and orgasmed.

  With a groan, he fell back onto the bed, so I could see only part of him, but could still hear his voice. “Damn. That’s the best sex I ever had with myself.”

  “Hey, I did my part.”

  “No joke. God, I miss you.”

  “Me, too. But we have your December surprise ahead. I’m looking forward to it.”

  “You’re Ms. Brightside, huh? If it’s raining, it’s good for the grass. If someone steals your wallet, then he was probably starving and needs the money more than you do.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far,” I mumbled. But it was true that I was prone to searching for silver linings.

  “Whereas my glass is permanently half-empty. But I’m feeling too good to complain about how the world’s a cesspool tonight. I think I’ll stare at you, instead.” He shifted enough so I could see his face, too.

  “Seems like a reaso
nable plan. But Sam will be— Oh. This is your weekend off. No early-morning wake-up call. So you can stay up as late as you want.”

  “Yeah. So I was kind of hoping you’d talk to me for a while.”

  “What about?”

  “I don’t care. This is the closest I’m getting to alone time with you for another month, and honestly, I just want to hear your voice.”

  Oh, God. I melted all over my sheets. But I was self-conscious, too. You know how there’s always an annoying relative at family reunions and he’s like, I hear you’re funny, Nadia, so tell me a joke. Then you forget all the humor you ever knew. That was how I felt right then.

  “And she stops talking immediately. Too much?”

  “No, I just blanked, I guess. I could tell you about the kids in my practicum.”

  “Sure. I don’t know that much about what you’re studying.”

  So for a good twenty minutes, I explained what I was doing in the education track, Ms. Parker’s warnings regarding burnout and some of my favorites from the program. “There’s this one kid, Riley, he’s always smiling, but the weird thing is, it’s not because he’s happy. It’s because it upsets his mom so much if she thinks he’s sad. So he never shows any of his anger or frustration, but it can’t be good for him. I worry that he’ll snap someday.”

  “You obviously care about them a lot. I think you’ll be a great teacher.”

  “I hope so, if I don’t crash and burn before then. It’s pretty hard to juggle everything.”

  “Is that why you’re with me instead of an actual boyfriend?” The words hurt like hell.

  Belatedly, I realized he didn’t mean it in a bad way; it wasn’t a denial of us, and I shouldn’t have that knee-jerk reaction. We’re not dating. He cares, but he doesn’t love you. That’s fine. It’s exactly according to plan. But the ache in my chest argued otherwise.

  “Nadia?” He came up on his elbows, staring at me in concern.

  “I was just thinking. And I guess so. I really don’t have time for regular dates.” Hesitating, I couldn’t decide if I should ask this, but why not? “How long do you see yourself staying single?”

  “Ten years, minimum. I might start dating when Sam’s in high school. He’ll have his own life by then. I might consider getting married once he leaves home, but I won’t want more kids.” He sounded so sure, even though he’d be only thirty-eight when Sam left for college. “What about you?”

  Taking a deep breath, I decided to be honest. This was probably the closest I’d ever come to telling Ty how I felt. “I’d like to get settled, career-wise, before I start a serious relationship. But sometimes life hands you unexpected opportunities. I wouldn’t turn down the right guy, if he came into my life at the wrong moment. I’d just...make room for him. Somehow.”

  He answered as I feared he would. “Bad idea. Focus on your future. Definitely do not screw it up over some asshole.”

  Suddenly, I remembered our conversation on the Ann Arbor trip, and I wondered if he thought I was talking about someone other than him. I tried to find a way to ask nicely. “Are you worried about...competition, Ty?”

  “I shouldn’t be. We agreed either one of us could call it at any time...for any reason.” But that wasn’t a firm denial.

  “There’s nobody else,” I assured him quietly.

  “That should not make me so fucking happy. But look at me.” His smile was breathtaking, so beautiful, it made me ache.

  “I’m just not a player by nature,” I said, trying to downplay my fidelity. “I’ve been with...five guys, total. Including you.”

  He raised a brow at me. “Not sure I needed to know that.”

  “Sorry if that was an overshare.”

  “It’s okay. And my number is five, too. Counting you.”

  “Interesting.”

  I wondered how many girls there were before Diana and how many after. But if I asked, he’d tell me, and then we’d end the night with me feeling like I couldn’t fill the void she left when she went. Sometimes I thought it might help him move on if he knew she was happy—that she’d put the pain behind her. But maybe not. Maybe Ty’s scars ran too deep.

  “Your face says we’re in a bad place.”

  “That’s just my sleepy look. It doesn’t play well on video. ’Night, Ty.”

  “Sleep well, sweetness.” He didn’t seem to notice the endearment, and I didn’t point it out. But it was the first time he’d called me anything but my name.

  After we hung up, I basked in it until I fell asleep.

  The next morning, my mom rousted me out of bed with the unfair bait of coffee and fresh cinnamon rolls, but I was a sucker for her baked goods. Once I was up, she dragged me to the local flea market, and that kept us out all day. At night, we watched movies with my dad, and Sunday morning at stupid o’clock, she cried as I loaded up the car.

  “I just miss you,” she said, sniffling. “It was so good to have you home.”

  My dad was more taciturn as always, but he had filled my trunk with emergency supplies: kitty litter, snow chains, flares, blankets, granola bars and bottles of water. He was the one who made sure I wore rain boots and carried an umbrella on stormy days; he also nagged about my grades while Mom offered more emotional bonding. Throat tight, I hugged them both in turn and Dad held on longer than usual.

  “I’ll come home this summer,” I promised.

  “Looking forward to it,” he murmured. “Drive safely, bean.”

  Rob stood in the window of his bedroom, gazing down at us. He didn’t come down to say goodbye, and I wondered if he felt as alone as he looked. My chest ached as I drove away, musing on the distance between us. I was five miles down the road before I noticed that my mom had put two bags of Thanksgiving leftovers in my backseat. I hoped Max and Angus were up for turkey; otherwise it might go to waste.

  Lauren was waiting out front when I got there. She hopped in, staring at her mom’s house with a wistful look. “Well, we survived coming home. I wish I didn’t have to take off so soon. This was so much fun.”

  “Wonder what Max and Angus did.” I mentioned our roomies, wondering if she’d thought of Max at all over the break.

  But she didn’t react. “Let’s hope the return is painless.”

  Since it was another sixteen hours, I said, “Doubt it.”

  “Me, too.”

  “Do you think Rob hates me?”

  “That was random.” Classic Lauren, avoiding the question to avoid hurting me.

  “Seriously.”

  “Probably not. But it’s hard for him. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there’s definitely a difference in how your folks treat you two.”

  I sighed. “Trust me, I’m aware. And it sucks. But I don’t know what to do.”

  “No idea. I’m an only child.”

  Driving back, we talked more about our families and played the radio to stay awake, switching off as we had before. Eight hours in, the weather got bad, and I had to plug my phone into the cigarette lighter to keep using the GPS app. It sucked a lot of power, but it also reported on traffic, weather and potential problem areas ahead. Doggedly, I drove with both hands locked on the wheel, steering through billowing clouds of white. The night was dark as hell, brightened only by the red taillights of cars crawling ahead of us.

  Lauren was chewing her lip. “I know you don’t want to miss work or class, but we might have to stop,” she said finally.

  When the car skidded for the second time in as many miles, I agreed, but first we had to find a place with available rooms. It was almost two in the morning by the time we stopped at a shitty motel that didn’t have NO VACANCY gleaming through the snow. I didn’t like the look of the place, but I didn’t see we had a choice.

  “Better than frozen death?” I asked Lauren, pulling into the lot.

  “Yay, we get dismembered, instead.” But that was her teasing tone, not her terrified one.

  In the office, an elderly woman shuffled to the desk in a blue housecoat, her mouth
puckered into permanent disapproval. “You girls are lucky, this is my last room. Lots of people are trying to get out of the weather tonight.”

  Well, duh. It’s a blizzard out there.

  I was pretty sure this shithole didn’t ordinarily cost fifty-nine bucks a night, but I had no leverage to haggle, and another car was pulling into the parking lot. “We’ll take it.”

  Between Lauren and me, we scraped up enough to cover the cost, and the proprietor proved what kind of place it was when she didn’t ask for a credit card. She gave us a metal key and told us we had room 116, just down from the office. Shivering, I got my backpack out of the car, but left the Tupperware containers. Snow stung my cheeks as I crunched over the unshoveled walk to our room. Inside, it was as horrible as I’d feared with a musty smell and decor that would’ve been dated back in the ’60s.

  Lauren shuddered. “So basically, we need to be dry-cleaned when we get home.”

  The old woman hadn’t mentioned that there was only one bed, but it didn’t matter. Since the radiator banged and groaned while providing minimal heat, we’d be huddling together for warmth, anyway. I put on slipper socks, a sweatshirt, sweatpants and my winter hat before turning back the sheets. They were thin and yellowed from frequent washing, but nothing moved. Hopefully, that was a good sign, and I was cold enough to risk it.

  “I have never wanted you more,” Lauren said, but she put on about as many clothes, and then we got into bed.

  It took me forever to fall asleep, despite the ache in my shoulders and calves from a long day of driving. Toward the end, we hadn’t come as far as we needed to, so we still had a good five hours to go, provided the roads were clear enough for us to move on. They’d better be since we didn’t have enough cash for another night on the road. Plus, I couldn’t afford to miss more work or class. Shit, it was stressing me out just thinking about it.

  “Oh, my God, go to sleep already,” Lauren mumbled, thumping me on the head when I rolled over for the fourth time.