I Want It That Way

by Ann Aguirre

  He sounded so disgruntled that I had to ask, “Is there any part of the job you do like?”

  “The benefits are good. And it’s not bad to learn this side of building, considering that I want to work in design later on. And yeah, I know that architecture’s a pretty depressed field right now, but it’s supposed to rebound in five years or so. At the rate I’m going it’ll take me that long to complete my undergrad work, let alone a master’s.”

  “You don’t need to justify your dreams to me, Ty.”

  “If that’s true, you’d be the first,” he muttered. “Anyway, sorry for letting work put me in a bad mood. Monday is soon enough to deal with whatever that was.”

  “You already warned me that you’re a grumpy asshole,” I pointed out.

  “True.” But he was utterly charming for the remainder of the drive.

  He told me the history behind the whiskey bar we were going to. Apparently, it really was a speakeasy back in the twenties, and it was situated below another bar. I’d never been anywhere like that, so I was excited on that note alone, but going with Ty, that was the frosting on the cake. Downtown Ann Arbor was hopping, so we parked a few blocks away. He came around to open my door, and when I climbed out, I realized we were exactly at eye level.

  “You’re 6’1,” I said.

  He grinned. “Tonight, so are you.”

  “You don’t mind?”

  “I don’t mind anything about you, Nadia.”

  Briefly, I entertained the idea of pushing him against the car, but I wrapped a choke chain around the impulse.

  “Which way?” I murmured.

  Ty set a hand in the small of my back to guide me, below the red jacket, so there was only the thin chiffon between his palm and my skin. He kept close as we walked, his hand on me like a claim. By the time we got to the venue, his palm felt like a searing brand. Though it had been a while, Ty had obviously been here before. He led me to the side steps and down into the cellar.

  Inside, the ceilings were low and resembled chalkboards. Buckets of chalk sitting around indicated we were supposed to scrawl our own messages if we felt like it. The place was half-full, casual seating throughout. A few people were milling around; others had claimed conversation pits while still more preferred regular tables and chairs. The small stage gave the space a sense of intimacy; if the acoustics were good, this should be awesome.

  Ty homed in on a pair of chairs toward the corner of the room, fairly close to the entertainment. With a glance, he confirmed it was fine with me, and I followed him over. Once I was seated, he said, “Get you a drink?”

  “Sure. See what interesting beers they have. Something local, if possible.”

  “Your wish is my command.”

  I really wished he wouldn’t say things like that. If this was how Ty treated a friend, then I’d eat Lauren’s damned dress. Hungrily, I watched him walk away, admiring the fit of his jeans. Since he was wearing a blue-striped button-up and a navy corduroy jacket, I didn’t think that was how he’d dress to hang out with a pal, either. Talk about mixed messages. But maybe he didn’t realize how it was coming across, how much this seemed like a date.

  “All set?” I asked, as he sat down next to me.

  “I ordered the five-beer sampler. They brew all their beers on-site, apparently. And I got us a basket of thyme and cheddar biscuits.”

  “That sounds incredible.” Until he said that, I didn’t realize how hungry I was.

  “They’re my favorite thing here, though the pulled pork nachos are awesome, too.”

  I glanced down at my lap and grinned. “Thank you for thinking of my dignity.”

  “In that dress, I promise your dignity is not remotely on my mind.”

  Okay, enough. “Ty, you have to stop flirting with me. I can’t take it.”

  “Sorry. It’s just that when I look at you, I forget about being smart and reasonable and I just—” For once he seemed to be at a loss for words.

  “I get it,” I said softly. “You have the same pull for me. But you’re the one who said you don’t date.”

  “I’m sorry. We probably shouldn’t even be here.”

  I stared at him. “Why?”

  “Because no matter how I try, I can’t think of you as my buddy Nadia, Sam’s teacher Nadia, my cool neighbor Nadia. You’re just Nadia, who I desperately want to see naked.”

  “You’re not the only one struggling with that,” I murmured.

  “Why?” He paused for a single, mischievous beat. “You see yourself naked all the time.”

  I laughed, teasing him. “And it’s amazing. Sometimes I don’t leave the house for days.”

  The band came on then, forestalling whatever he might’ve said, but the glint in his eyes promised delightful retribution. The fact that we could joke around gave me hope for salvaging our friendship. If sex would ruin things, we could work around it. Right?

  Five minutes later, the server brought beer and biscuits, so we had grub when the music started. Both were delicious; I sampled all five of the brews, though I didn’t finish any. Ty devoured the rest. Broken Arrow’s set lasted for two hours, give or take, and had more of a bluesy tone than I expected, given Ty’s other musical inclinations, but the group was talented, full of energy and fun to watch. They engaged the audience, got us clapping and singing along. Since I didn’t know the words, I mostly hummed. Then they played a fifteen-minute encore, at which point, Ty glanced toward the door.

  “Should we head out?”

  Just before eleven, the place was pretty packed. It was getting harder to hear him for people talking, and since we’d come to see the show—and now we had—the night was done. Disappointment flicked through me, yet I pushed to my feet.

  “Sure. We have the drive back—”

  “Are you in a hurry to get home?” he asked, visibly downcast.

  “No, I thought you were.”

  “Then as long as we’re in Ann Arbor, we can’t go without dinner at the Fleetwood. They have the best meaty hash.”

  “I only understood half of those words.”

  “Can you walk in those shoes? From here, it’s, like, three blocks, maybe five minutes at the most. It would probably take longer to move the car.”

  “Sure, I’m fine.” As soon as I said that, turning to follow him, I stumbled on a crack in the sidewalk.

  Ty grabbed my hand to steady me and he didn’t let go. As our fingers laced together, I half closed my eyes, savoring the rasp of his calluses and the heat of his skin. Crazy that palm-on-palm contact could make me feel like this. Maybe it was because we’d agreed it would never happen, but the little things had never gotten to me so much before.

  “This way, come on.”

  As promised, it wasn’t far at all. The Fleetwood Diner was the consummate dive, housed in an Airstream trailer. Inside there were so few tables that it seemed like more than fifteen people couldn’t fit, and it was chilly enough that sitting outside was out of the question. Luckily, a table for two was open and Ty grabbed it.

  The servers were weird, rude almost, but Ty claimed that was part of the charm. Since I wanted to talk to him anyway and not the waitress, I was cool with that. On his advice, I got the meaty hash, and it was insanely good. While we ate, he talked a little more about his job, and from there, he moved on to his family.

  I took the opening to ask, “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

  “Two sisters, both older. But they don’t live in Michigan. Sarah’s in California and Valerie went to Florida.”

  “Whoa. They both went a long way chasing the sun.”

  “You’ll laugh but I swear that was exactly why they moved. No more Michigan winters. My mom and dad have talked about joining Val in a few years.” He hesitated, scraping the food around on his plate with his fork. “I kinda suspect they’re only still here because of me.”

  “In case you need help with Sam?”

  “Yeah. I try not to make them feel like they’re obligated, but—”

&nb
sp; “They’re your parents, and they love you. They love Sam, too. It’s their choice, Ty. You have to learn how to accept help. Saying, hey, I need a hand here doesn’t mean you’re failing, only that you’re human.”

  He scowled at me. “Have you been talking to my mom?”

  “Yeah, we get together to gossip about you over coffee.”

  With a mock-shiver, he rubbed his arms. “That wouldn’t surprise me. Mom is crafty.”

  By this time, the servers were giving us the stink eye, making me think this was a place where they encouraged you to eat and get out. Not surprising, considering the dining room size. Ty paid the bill over my protests and then we walked back to the car. When he took my hand, I didn’t say anything, though I was steady on my feet.

  I love you, I thought.

  It wasn’t rockets or fireworks or any of the Hollywood effects I’d been led to expect. Instead, it was crisp air lightly touched by the scent of burning wood, spiced with insatiable longing. A bonfire was burning nearby, and love was Ty’s hand around mine, warm and fast, binding us together. Other people walked down the sidewalk, but they weren’t part of us. They had their own lives, heading to clubs whose music pounded out of open doorways. This was a perfect moment, one I’d remember forever. Because I’ve never been in love before. It didn’t matter that he didn’t feel the same way, or that he wouldn’t let himself.

  Not all love stories end happily. Sometimes they just end.

  And I could see the blind curve looming in the distance while I raced with him down this slope. At this point, the crash seemed inevitable, but I couldn’t make myself leap out of the car. So I walked with him, noticing everything, like the way he matched his strides to mine without realizing, the way he turned to look at me when we passed beneath a lamppost, as if he didn’t want to miss a single glimpse. His thumb slid back and forth over the heel of my hand, and he played with my fingers, shaping them, until longing spiraled inside me like a typhoon. My chest wasn’t big enough to hold this feeling, for the sweet intensity of it.

  For me, sex had always been about interlocking parts. Sometimes it felt really good, but I’d never fucked anyone and then had the urge to whisper, You complete me. I never cried afterward or felt much of anything, other than physical satisfaction. With Ty, I suspected it would be completely different. Not that I’d ever know.

  It’ll be fine. You’re tough.

  “You’re quiet,” he said as we reached the car.

  “Just thinking.”

  “About...how I’m an ass and you can’t wait to get away?”

  “Not even close.”

  “Hmm, challenge accepted. Let me see if I can figure this out.” As he helped me into the car, he seemed determined to make a game of guessing what was on my mind.

  First he started the engine and drove us out of town, heading back toward Mount Albion. “You looked really serious. Is it about school?”

  “Cold.”

  “Some guy you like?” Was he seriously asking that? But maybe he didn’t realize how much of my mental attention he occupied.

  “Warmer.”

  His half smile faded, as if I’d slapped him. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

  “Not at the moment.” There was no way I’d ever admit that I was pondering how awesome sex between us would be.

  “Okay, I give. I don’t want to talk about some guy you like.” He shrugged. “Sorry, but I’m not there mentally. Give me a few months, maybe I can give advice then.”

  I rallied, teasing him. “Please, you don’t even date, so what help would you be?”

  “You have a point. And even when I did, it wasn’t great.”

  He’s talking about Sam’s mom.

  “Do you want to tell me?”

  “No. Maybe.” He gripped the wheel tightly, knuckles whitening. “It might change how you see me. I don’t know if—”

  “I’m willing to listen if you’d like to talk. We have an hour.”

  He exhaled in a slow rush, as if bracing to lift a heavy weight. In a way, maybe he was, but I hoped in sharing this with me, he’d also feel like he’d cast one off, too.

  “Diana and I met freshman year. We got together right away, and I...I loved her so much.” His voice cracked.

  It hurt, hearing that. Ty, before, wasn’t afraid of dating. Before Diana—now I knew her name—he must’ve been fearless. He believed in happy endings.

  “She was clever. Ambitious. She was studying genetics and had her sights set on running her own lab by the time she was thirty.”

  Wow.

  “Early in our sophomore year, she got bronchitis. She was on the pill, and they gave her antibiotics at the med center. Nobody said it could mess with the effectiveness of birth control.”

  “Which was how she got pregnant,” I guessed.

  He nodded, carefully not looking at me. “As soon as she realized, she wanted to get an abortion and move on. She didn’t want kids.”

  “Obviously, that didn’t happen.”

  “Because of me. I begged her to keep Sam. I said there was no reason we couldn’t make it work. Other people do.”

  I was shaking, because he radiated pain, and there was nothing I could do. “But...?”

  “Diana hated pregnancy. By the time she gave birth, she hated me for making her go through it. We broke up the day Sam was born. I kept my promises, took care of things the way we’d planned, but two days after she came home from the hospital, she moved out. Then we shared custody, but she hated being a mom. And I couldn’t understand, couldn’t see her side...because the minute I heard about Sam, when he was a tiny peanut, I just loved him so much.”

  “Some women aren’t cut out to be mothers,” I said quietly.

  “I know. And that’s understandable. I should’ve respected her choice. Pressuring her like that is the worst thing I’ve ever done, and yet how can I be sorry? Because she gave me Sam.”

  “And you put her through so much pain.” It wasn’t a judgment, just a summary.

  “Exactly. The scales can never be balanced. Five weeks after Sam was born, Diana dropped him off and I never heard from her again.”

  “She left town?”

  “Yeah. I made her so miserable, she ran from her whole life. Her parents don’t even know where she is. They’ve tried to find her.”

  “Damn.” For me, it was tough to fathom the misery and sorrow that would drive a woman to burn all bridges behind her.

  He made a soft, agonized sound. “And you wonder why I don’t date.”

  “Not anymore,” I said as my heart snapped quietly in two.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  After the concert, I saw Ty a fair amount, often when he picked Sam up from day care, and a few nights a week, I sat with him on the balcony. Well, me up above and him down below. It was no longer a private thing, though, because my roomies were home more. The first time it happened when Lauren was around, she’d stared at me in puzzlement when I came in.

  “Why don’t you just go downstairs to talk to him?”

  “It’s complicated,” I said.

  Since we went to Ann Arbor, there was distance between us. His story didn’t change the way I felt about him, but it affected his sense of how we were together. Before I knew the truth, I was a safe haven. Now I was somebody who might be judging him. That night, I’d tried to make him understand that I didn’t blame him. It was shitty how he’d pushed Diana, no question, but having met Sam, how could I be sorry he was born? Some questions had no right answers, only shades of wrong, and people couldn’t live in black-and-white. Sometimes there were pops of glorious color, and on other occasions, gray was the only visible hue. Mostly, I hoped Diana had made peace with her decision to start fresh and that she was happy, wherever she might be.

  So now, halfway through October, I took a much-needed breather. Lauren was watching Storage Wars that afternoon when I sat down on the couch. The guys were out, something to do with Max’s bike; Angus had gone along because he still hadn’t forgiven Josh. A
t this point, I suspected a permanent breakup was inevitable.

  “No homework?” she asked.

  “I’m cramming for midterms. Taking a break.”

  “I should do the same. Can’t muster the drive.”

  Lazily, I reached over and snagged her drink. I spluttered when I realized she was sipping rum and Diet Coke, strong stuff for watching TV. “Are you...okay?”

  “Do I get a lecture now on the deleterious effects of day drinking on productivity?”

  “It just seems like something’s bothering you.” At the moment, she didn’t seem drunk, but maybe she’d gotten to the point where her tolerance was so high, I wouldn’t realize if she had a serious problem. And that scared me.

  Instead of answering, she tipped her head back with a soft, wistful sigh. “You remember in ninth grade, we were so worried about homecoming?”

  I nodded. Unlike the last thing she’d asked about, I recalled this angst all too clearly. “If nobody asked us, should we go together, should we make the first move but what if he says no and if he says yes, how are we getting to the mall to buy a dress—”

  “I miss that simplicity,” she said quietly. “Back then, our problems seemed so huge and insurmountable. But we obsessed and we got through.”

  “That’s because we had each other. And we still do, LB. Whatever’s going on, I’m here when you want to talk.”

  She smiled and handed me the rest of her drink. “Thanks. Can we just watch TV today?”

  “Sure.” We vegged for half an hour in silence before I remembered to ask, “Want to go home for Thanksgiving? If I go alone it’ll take two days, and that’ll hardly be worth it.”

  “My mom would love it,” she said thoughtfully. “And it’d be cool to see your family, along with some of our old crew.”

  “Most of them are gone but they might be back for the holiday. Rob’s there, though. Want to catch up with him?”

  She surprised me by blushing, which she covered by smacking me with a pillow. “Shut up. I don’t need to remind you of Matt Pomerico, do I?”

  I laughed. “God, remember how I logged his movements? 9:15 a.m. Matt asks for bathroom pass. I was such a weirdo.”