Home > I Want It That Way (2B Trilogy #1)(35)

I Want It That Way (2B Trilogy #1)(35)
Author: Ann Aguirre

“They probably don’t like working here as much as I do,” I said. “When will the change kick in?”

“I have to talk to Claire first, but I hope next week.” Claire must be the floater who had my old job.

“Thanks again.” I waved as I let myself out of her office, relief practically swamping me.

Time wasn’t so tight on Tuesdays and Thursdays, so I had the leisure to go home and make lunch, eat and change clothes, before heading to campus for afternoon classes. On the downside, I had them back-to-back until six. Which sounded like a lot of classes, but the Tues-Thurs ones ran longer to make up for meeting only twice a week.

It was half past six when I got home, and I had zero desire to go drinking, but I’d promised Angus. He was waiting on the couch, ready to party. I summoned a smile.

“Do you mind if I eat first?” The prospect of peanuts and microwaved chicken wings for dinner didn’t sound enticing.

He raised a brow at me. “Oh, Nadia of little faith. Take the lid off the pot on the stove.”

Curious, I did as he suggested and found homemade chicken noodle soup. I was already spooning some into a bowl as I said, “You’re too good to me, seriously.”

Angus grinned. “I know. I’m spoiling you for all other men.”

That was not even remotely true, but it boosted his ego, so I played along. Plus, when his food tasted this delicious, he deserved the praise. With a happy sigh, I plonked onto the couch and savored the goodness.

“You know this is why we asked you to room with us, right?” I teased.

“Why must you be so cruel? Am I only a sassy apron to you?”

“Of course not. You’re also a sassy wok and wooden spoon.” Angus hit me with a pillow, nearly tipping my bowl over. I glared in mock-outrage. “You dare. Do what you will with me but the soup deserves better.”

To my delight, he burst out laughing. Bodes well for tonight. I hadn’t seen his eyes shadow free and shining since Josh cleared his conscience. Angus had a tendency to internalize things and to obsess, so he must’ve been wondering if it was something he did before he went to Europe or something he didn’t do. I wanted him to stop with all of that and just cut loose tonight. My reluctance to go out faded.

Before we left, I ate two bowls of soup, then I let Angus fiddle with my hair. He hated the sheer laziness of the band keeping my hair out of my face. The funny part was, he wasn’t the genius of a stylist that pop culture implied all g*y men should be. In my opinion, Lauren was much better. What’s up with her, anyway? But tonight was about Angus, so I let him give me bad sex-vixen hair, then we went down to the parking lot.

“Let’s take the Audi,” he suggested.

I’d driven his car before, but not often. A vehicle that expensive made me nervous. “Are you sure?”

“Positive. I’ll hand over my keys when we get there.”

Angus drove us to 42 North, a bar cunningly named after its own address. It was the closest thing Mount Albion had to a hipster bar, where students and townies could mingle. Typically, the blue-collar types drank across town, however, at the place off the interstate. So at the tail end of happy hour, we had some men in business suits, a few people I recognized from campus and some older folks. Interesting mix, not too exciting, but it was Thursday. Tonight, they had a piano player, plinking out old favorites from my mom’s day.

“Well, this is...mellow,” Angus said with a lip curl. “I suppose they’ll play ‘Piano Man,’ and everyone will weep into their beers.”

“Don’t be snide. You came here to get drunk, not bitch about ambiance.”

“Can’t I do both? I’m an excellent multitasker. Watch. Excuse me! Vodka and cranberry for me, ginger ale for the lady.” While we waited for our drinks, he whispered in my ear all of the things that were wrong with this bar and its patrons.

In a bitchy mood, Angus could be beyond mordant, but he was also hilarious. I snickered as the bartender delivered the first round. “Paying cash or should I start a tab?”

“A tab, definitely.” He handed over a platinum AmEx, courtesy of his dad. I usually didn’t notice the difference in our circumstances, but it was weird to realize how little money meant to him. He’d probably never scrimped or saved a day in his life.

The bartender brightened when he saw the card and service became brisk. I nursed two ginger ales while Angus polished off what I reckoned to be nearly a fifth of vodka by himself. As I’d promised that morning, he was drunk off his ass when I helped him to the car. Once he was buckled in, I ran around to the driver’s seat, somewhat excited about taking the wheel. The inside was posh leather and fine engineering.

On the way home, Angus sang the Spice Girls at the top of his lungs. Rather than fight it, I found “Wannabe” on his hard drive and blasted it. His good humor lasted until we pulled into the parking lot, then he turned with a horrified face. I guessed where this was going.

“Open the door, honey. Fast.”

Clumsily, he did, and he barfed all over the pavement. Better than the car. Wincing, I waited until he was done heaving, then I went around to help him out. Managing that without either of us falling down in the vomit was a feat worthy of the circus. My shoes took a hit, but friends before Converse, or something like that.

“I want to die,” Angus was moaning as we staggered into the foyer. “You’re the only one who loves me.”

That was untrue, but he’d clearly reached the sad-drunk stage. So I murmured encouraging noises as I practically herniated myself getting him up the stairs. Down the hall toward Ty’s place, I heard a noise, like the door clicking shut quietly, but I couldn’t investigate until I dealt with Angus. And that might take a while.

Ten minutes later, I got him up the stairs and into the apartment. I convinced him to strip and get in the shower, but I couldn’t stop him from wandering around naked afterward. Max came out of his room, surveyed the situation and then shook his head.

“Nope.” He retreated.

Thankfully, Lauren was home, and she helped me get him dressed and into bed. We flopped him on his stomach and left his trash can beside his bed in case he got sick. By the time Lauren shut Angus’s door, I felt like I had the night before, after listening to Sam scream for almost an hour. The comparison amused me.

“What the hell?” she demanded.

“He split with Josh for keeps.”

“Ohhh. Then it could’ve been worse. Why didn’t you tell me?” Her tone was...something. I didn’t know what. Accusing, maybe, like this was a conspiracy to make her feel left out. “I would’ve come with you.”

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