I Want It That Way

by Ann Aguirre

  Weirdly, I did.

  In the morning, I turned on the crappy, antiquated TV to check the weather report. From a glance out the window, I could see that it had stopped snowing, but I needed to know which roads had been plowed in the night. I punched the air when I heard that I-80 looked pretty clear. After poking Lauren awake, I packed my stuff and carried it to the car.

  My breath whooshed out of me. The right back window was broken and all of the leftovers my mom had sent were gone. Speechless, I walked around the car looking for other damage. Shit, my phone. Did I take it in with us last night?

  I scrambled through my backpack, and it was definitely gone. Assholes. You stole Thanksgiving and my phone. Happy holidays. I couldn’t think of a single silver lining in this crap-fest, but I strangled my urge to kick things and cuss. Better to focus on damage control.

  Lauren was brushing her teeth when I ran in. “Need to borrow your cell.”

  “Why?”

  Once I filled her in, she did all the cursing for me. But she turned her phone over with no questions, and I went about changing passwords, canceling accounts and notifying my cell carrier that I was no longer in possession of the phone.

  The rep sounded pretty bored as he relayed my options. “So sorry for your trouble, ma’am. I can blacklist the phone for you immediately and send you a SIM card. According to our records, you are not eligible for a replacement, so you’ll need to purchase new hardware. We can also supply the serial number for the police and notify anyone who may be trying to reach you.”

  “Just turn it off. I don’t want anyone using my phone.”

  “Understood. Since you’ve notified us, you won’t be liable for any charges appearing after this time.”

  “It was stolen at some point in the night,” I protested. “I don’t know what time.”

  “You’re certainly free to dispute those charges, if they prove to be excessive.”

  Shit. The thief probably stole my phone and then called a bunch of overseas numbers.

  But I’d worry about that later. Though it would delay us further, I called the cops and we waited two full hours for a state trooper so I could file a police report. It wouldn’t do any good, but at least it was proof for Mrs. Keller that I wasn’t a lazy ass who just didn’t feel like working.

  When the policeman left, it was damn near noon, and I was supposed to be at work soon. I knew the day-care center number by heart, and Lauren’s phone had enough juice for me to call in. It was the first time in my life that I ever did, such a horrible feeling, even though I didn’t have a choice. I babbled apologies for a full two minutes before she cut in.

  “So there was a blizzard, you’re four hours away, and some butthead broke into your car. I understand, some days suck.” She sounded amused. “Don’t worry, we can cover your shift.”

  “I was hoping I’d be back in time. I didn’t plan for the broken window. I have a police report and everything if you need to see it.”

  “It’s fine,” she said. “I trust you. Just be careful driving back.”

  The woman in the motel office “fixed” my window with two plastic trash bags and duct tape, making the Toyota look even classier, and it did wonders for the ventilation. When I said something about damages, she didn’t even apologize, just pointed to a sign that said she wasn’t liable for items left in cars overnight.

  “What a bitch,” Lauren snarled as we pulled out of the Motel Hell parking lot.

  “It was worth it to see our families,” I offered.

  There, that’s the bright side. Finally. Time to go home.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  The apartment was gloriously warm; my fingers ached. Max had them between his palms, rubbing briskly. Angus was making hot tea while Lauren filled them in. I let her lead me to the couch, still shivering. If I never drove to Nebraska again, that would be fine by me.

  “They seriously stole your mom’s Tupperware?” Max repeated.

  Lauren confirmed, “Complete with turkey, stuffing, green beans and pie. We were gonna eat those leftovers for a week.”

  “I’m sorry, but that’s hilarious,” Angus said.

  “Except for the broken window.” I wasn’t looking forward to the repair bill, but as cold as we’d been for the last four hours of the trip, the glass had to be fixed soon.

  Max scowled. “They stole our pie? Now I’m mad. And pie-less. But mostly mad.”

  “You assume I planned to share it,” I said, smirking.

  “Oh, you might want to go downstairs and tell the crazy guy in 1B that you’re alive.” Angus hauled me out of my chair and nudged me toward the door. “He made it pretty clear that he’ll pull my head off if he doesn’t see you at some point today.”

  Oh, shit. Ty.

  I would’ve called him on Lauren’s cell, but I didn’t remember his number by heart. Checking the time, I saw it was close to seven and I couldn’t recall if he had night classes. Still, even if he wasn’t home yet, I’d leave a message on his door. So I grabbed a pen and Post-it, just in case, and said, “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  “Sure you will,” Lauren said as Angus murmured, “See you in the morning.”

  Stifling a sigh, I jogged down the stairs to his apartment and knocked. There were no lights visible under his door, so I figured he must be gone. Quickly I wrote, Had trouble on the way home. Bad weather, phone stolen. I’m okay. No texting until I replace it. After sticking it to the door, where he couldn’t miss it, I went back upstairs.

  Angus made us a sympathy dinner, and we had just finished eating when someone knocked on the door, pounded, really. I stood up.

  “It’s probably Mr. Hot Ginger,” Lauren said.

  Fixing an evil stare on her, I crossed to answer, and she was right. Ty stood outside with Sam dozing on his shoulder. Poor kid. He probably fell asleep in the car on the way home. The impulse to hug them both nearly overwhelmed me. Ty’s shoulders dropped as a sigh seeped out of him, such tangible relief that it shimmered like gold in his brown eyes.

  Waving at my roomies, he whispered, “Come down for a few?”

  This definitely wasn’t protocol, but I nodded. Without bothering to put on shoes, I followed him to his place, and he let us in, juggling keys, backpacks and Sam in a practiced move. He scanned the note as I plucked it off the door and gave me a tired half smile. Since Sam was already in jammies, Ty carried him down the hall and put him in bed. I tensed, waiting for the kid to wake up, but he only curled into his covers and reached for Mr. O’Beary when Ty set the toy beside him.

  Once we were back in the living room, he crushed me to him in a bruising hug, and I was astonished to discover that he was shaking. He mumbled into my hair, “You have no idea how worried I’ve been. First the bad weather, and this morning, you replied to my last text with suck me loser. I had no idea where you were and all your roommates could tell me was that you were supposed to be home last night.”

  Quietly, muffled by his shoulder, I ran through the carnival of crapulence that had been my lot since we left Nebraska. Ty held me and stroked my back, my hair, like he couldn’t stand to let go of me. I curled against him, reveling in his tenderness. Finally, I concluded, “And it was freezing on the way home, so much that my hands hurt by the time we got here.”

  “I saw the broken window on your car when I came in and went straight to your place to make sure you were okay.”

  “Fine. Just tired, sore and completely pissed off.”

  “Sit down.”

  “But Sam...?”

  “My mom had him bundled up, throwing snowballs for an hour tonight. Then he had hot soup and a bath. I’ll be amazed if he’s awake before morning, but...I’m willing to risk it.”

  This invite was such a huge step; I wondered if he even realized.

  “If you’re sure.” I didn’t need further encouragement to curl up on the cozy red couch.

  He sat behind me and pressed his thumbs to the base of my neck, rubbing in firm circles. “How’s that?”

&n
bsp; “Incredible.” It was impossible for me to think, let alone speak, while he massaged my neck and shoulders. When he got to my head, I was a warm, sleepy noodle in his arms.

  “Why didn’t you call me?” Reasonable question. “Lauren had her phone, right?”

  Embarrassed, I admitted, “Normally, I use the names in my contact list. I don’t remember too many numbers.”

  “Work and your parents?” he guessed.

  “Pretty much. I’m not even sure I know Lauren’s number, and we’ve been friends since second grade. I’m sorry I scared you.”

  A few moments passed in silence. “You didn’t mean to. But I’d rather not live through a day like this one again.”

  His tone alarmed me enough to shift so I could look at his face. “Ty?”

  Tense again, I waited for him to say that we were getting in too deep. Instead, he whispered, “I’m so glad you’re home. Sam was crying when I picked him up from school.”

  “What happened?” There was one biter, a hair puller and two toy stealers in his group. Maybe he had a problem with one of them?

  “Nothing, he just missed you. He’s used to you being in his classroom.”

  “I missed you guys, too. I love my parents, but there’s a reason I only see them once a year. Next time I’ll go during the summer.”

  “Flying’s faster,” he pointed out.

  “More expensive, too.” Though after weighing the cost of fuel, new window and phone, maybe I should’ve flown. “And it’s an hour to fly out of Ann Arbor from here, there are no nonstops, and my parents have to drive two hours to pick me up.”

  “How small is this town?”

  “Less than five thousand people. It was a big deal when they put in a stop sign at the Stop and Go.”

  “Damn. And I thought Mount Albion was bad.”

  “It’s really not.” The core population held steady just under ten thousand and the university swelled it by another 6K during the school year. It also made it kind of a challenge to find a decent part-time job, which was why we’d thrown a party for Lauren when she finally switched from food court to fine arts.

  “You must be dead tired,” he whispered, kissing the back of my neck.

  I didn’t take it as a prelude to sex, only an observation. But I wished so hard that he was my boyfriend, and we could go to bed together. Right now. Yes. Please. I swallowed hard, breath quickening. The yearning sprang partly from physical attraction, but also because I wanted to be close to him—without terms and conditions. I want you, I thought. But I couldn’t say it. There was no way he’d risk Sam having a bad dream and walking in on us. I went cold just thinking about it; that would tarnish everything. Keeping quiet didn’t stop the wanting, though.

  I had to hide it. If Ty felt he wasn’t meeting my needs, he’d call it off.

  What’s the saying? Half a loaf is better than none. My grandmother used to say something like that in Russian, usually when I was complaining about my dinner. It applied to this situation especially, since my heart might starve without these stolen moments with Ty.

  So I nodded, keeping my response simple. “If we’re okay, I need to get back upstairs and work on some stuff for tomorrow. I emailed the professors whose classes I missed, but they haven’t replied. I swear they’re making me sweat on purpose.”

  “Sounds probable. And yeah, we’re fine. I have a design due for Thursday, anyway.”

  “Would you show me what you’re working on before I go?” I stood, hoping the answer was yes. From the pen-and-ink sketches he’d framed, I knew Ty could draw, but I’d never seen anything else.

  “Come on.” After grabbing his backpack, he led me down the hall to his studio, sparsely furnished with a drafting table and computer desk. Then he got out a thin sheet of paper, tightly rolled to protect against smudging. He unfurled it and set paperweights on each corner, so I could see. “It’s supposed to be a restaurant.”

  It was an external view of a modern, rectangular structure with what looked like an outdoor terrace and rooftop bar. “This would do nicely for a Japanese teppanyaki place.”

  Surprise flashed in his eyes then a pleased smile. “I haven’t gotten that far, but I like it. Maybe I’ll finish it with that in mind. The professor likes specificity.”

  “You’re really good. I should hire you to sketch me for my mom’s birthday.”

  “Portraits aren’t my thing,” he warned.

  “I know, I was kidding.” Leaning forward, I put a hand on his shoulder and kissed him softly, the sweetest good-night kiss ever. “Thanks for worrying about me.”

  “Like I could help it.” Ty walked me to the door, and I hurried upstairs.

  Unsurprisingly, all three of my roomies were in the living room, waiting to scrutinize me when I tapped to be let in. Max did the honors while Angus studied my hair. “So there was talking. Are you and Mr. Hot Ginger in a good place?”

  “Lauren! Why’d you tell Angus to call him that? His name is Ty. And yeah, we’re fine.”

  She grinned, ignoring my mock-frown. “He sure is.”

  Max interjected, “I can take your car to the shop tomorrow. I’m pretty sure we can fix the window. If need be, I’ll swing by the junkyard and get a replacement.” As I considered the logistics, he suggested, “I’ll give you a ride to work on my bike and pick you up in your car on my lunch hour. You can drop me off before you head to campus.”

  “Okay, deal. How much will this cost me?”

  “Depends, but I’ll work on it free. So just parts.”

  Relieved, I hugged him hard around the neck. Until Max came through, I had no idea how I was fixing my car, replacing my phone, buying Christmas presents for my friends and family, plus the usual expenses of rent, food and utilities. My knees actually felt a little weak.

  Angus seemed to take it as a personal challenge, though, because he said, “I was thinking about buying you a new phone for Christmas, anyway.”

  “That’s too much.” I shook my head. While Angus came from money, I didn’t like him buying me expensive things. His boyfriends generally felt otherwise.

  “Then I’m using my upgrade and giving you the one I have now.”

  “I’d let him do it for me,” Lauren said. “Provided the SIM fits.”

  “It should.” Angus’s current phone was one step up from my old one. “Okay. But I forbid you to buy me anything for Christmas.” Beyond touched, I leaned down and hugged them all at once. “You guys are the best friends ever.”

  “Hey,” Max said, tapping the end of my nose. “You’re always around when we need you. So it would be pretty shitty if we said ‘good luck with life’ when you need us back.”

  When I went to sleep that night, I felt much better.

  At Rainbow Academy the next day, Ty pounced as soon as I hopped off Max’s bike. He kissed me good morning in the parking lot. I wrapped my arms around his neck and returned it full measure. When he pulled back, he kissed my forehead and each cheek in turn, mouth deliciously hot against the chill in the air. A shiver went through me.

  “Keep this up and I’ll think you missed me.”

  “Don’t ever doubt it.”

  The wave of euphoria in the wake of Ty’s words carried me all the way to Mrs. Trent’s classroom. Sam was ecstatic when I walked in. “Hey, bud.”

  “My name is Sam! Where were you? You were gone forever.”

  “Was not. It was, like, four days.”

  Sam pulled on my arm. “My mom’s gone forever.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Dad says she’s really busy. With science.”

  I had no idea what to say, but Mrs. Trent started the day’s routine, distracting Sam. Just as well. I wasn’t ready for that conversation. But Sam was clingier than usual; it seemed like he hardly climbed off my lap all day.

  At noon, when Max picked me up at work, my car window was fixed. “You are so awesome. I can’t even tell you how much I appreciate this. How much?”

  “Don’t worry about it.”


  No matter how I argued, Max wouldn’t even let me pay for the replacement window, and that afternoon, Angus used his upgrade, passing along his old phone. My friends are the best. After such a shitty return from Nebraska, I braced for life to explode further, but my professors didn’t bitch about the absence and let me turn in assignments a day late. The next day, my phone carrier came through with a replacement SIM, leaving me in good shape for Wednesday when I had to show Ms. Parker my lesson plan. If she approved it, I’d teach class the following week.

  So understandably, I was nervous when I arrived at C-Cool. I waited for a lull, students working quietly at their desks, before offering my work. She flipped through the handouts and markers I’d created; I couldn’t tell what she thought from her expression.

  Finally, she glanced up. “It’s a game show format?”

  “I thought I could give out small prizes for correct answers.”

  Maybe I was wrong, but she didn’t seem thrilled. “These students all have focus issues, Nadia. How do you think they’ll respond to buzzers and Happy Meal toys?”

  “Um. I didn’t plan to use buzzers.”

  But she broke it down for me, all the hundred reasons why this would never work. In my structure, I had focused far too much on the fun aspect, not enough on the learning part. I needed a fresh, creative vehicle to deliver a reading lesson that wouldn’t also turn the room into pandemonium. Her criticism was on point, but I still felt horrible. She concluded, “We have to be especially careful in here. A number of our students on the autism spectrum have trouble with too much stimuli—lights, noises, colors. It’s our job to manage the environment.”

  “I’ll do it again,” I said quietly.

  “Have something else ready for Friday, okay? Remember, I’m rooting for you.”

  “No problem. I’ll do better, I promise.” If I didn’t impress her and finish strong, she’d tell my new mentor for spring semester all about my failures, and when you started with certain strikes, the supervising teacher could make your life hell in so many interesting ways.

  “Your idea was creative. In a traditional classroom, it would be a huge success.”

  That made me feel a little better, enough that I mustered up the will to circulate and help students with their work. An hour later, I left the school, stewing on my mistake, went home for lunch then changed into my work clothes. The rest of the week flew, but I didn’t come up with anything that sounded better than what I’d originally produced.