Ann Aguirre

The Shape Of My Heart


Скачать книгу

“I’m a touch OC and I might alphabetize your books and/or CDs if you decide to move in.”

      She laughed. “Girl, have at it. That’s not my thing, I don’t have time to obsess. But it won’t bother me if you organize. Just don’t move stuff so I can’t find it.”

      “Don’t worry, you won’t come home to find all your makeup sorted by brand.”

      “Hey, I’d much rather be sharing with somebody who cleans. My boyfriend doesn’t.”

      “You mean your ex?” Angus asked hopefully.

      “Give me a few days. Is next weekend soon enough?” Kia pushed to her feet with an inquiring look.

      “Yep, it’s great.” I fought the urge to hug her, mostly because it was settled.

      “Let’s swap numbers.” Angus forwarded her info before she finished speaking and I sent a test text. Her phone pinged again, suggesting Max had done the same.

      Kia grinned. “I guess I don’t have to worry about being welcome. Wish me luck.”

      “Dump him.” That was my best encouraging tone.

      Max walked her to the door. “Agreed. Dump the crap out of him.”

      Once the door closed behind her, I grabbed Angus’s hands and whirled him around in a circle. “She’s perfect. Seriously, thank you. You don’t know how relieved I am.”

      “Save the victory dance until she moves in. You never know, Duncan could talk her into giving him a second chance. She’s been on the verge of leaving him for like a year.”

      I sighed as the satisfaction drained away. “Now you tell me.”

      “You worry too much. If need be, we’ll split the rent three ways until we find the right person. I can manage a month of that, and I know Angus can.” Max slung an arm over my shoulder and hauled me to the sofa. “Come on, let’s shoot stuff.”

      Angus ruffled my hair and I pretended to swat him. “Hey. Hands off the purple.”

      “Can’t help it, it’s all adorable and spiky.”

      My mother called my current look a “punk” phase, and she expressed a devout wish for me to get over it every time I saw her. She hoped I’d trade Doc Martens and cargo pants for dresses that sparkled, grow my hair out and get a nose job. That would never, ever happen. Which bummed my mother out; she’d rather I marry a nice Jewish doctor than become one. Of course, that wasn’t on the table, either. Since I didn’t know exactly what I wanted to do, I was studying business, though friends who’d already graduated were telling me I needed to specialize or there was no way in hell I’d find a job.

      But the idea of wiping my originality like a dry-erase board for a corporate gig bummed me out. I liked my piercings—at last count I had eight: eyebrow, nose, three in my left ear, two in my right, plus the belly-button ring; I couldn’t remember if my mother had ever seen the latter. Maybe I’d use the money my granddad left me to start my own company, though at this point, I had no idea what product or service I’d offer.

      Max bumped me with his shoulder. “Are you playing or not?”

      “I’m in.” Picking up the controller, I joined him on-screen, though it pissed me off that in most of these shooters, I always had to play a dude.

      “Have fun. I’m out with Del tonight.” The brightness in Angus’s voice told me things were going well, so I just waved as he left, focused on not shooting Max in the back.

      We played for an hour before I got hungry. I pushed Pause on the controller and ambled to the kitchen. Max came up behind me, resting his head on my shoulder as I peered into the fridge. Max was exceptionally hands-on with his friends; maybe he didn’t get hugged enough as a kid or something. When I’d first moved in, I thought he was hitting on me, but he thumped and patted Angus about as much, so I went with it.

      “Cook something,” he pleaded.

      I jabbed him in the gut with my elbow. “Get off me and maybe I will. How do patty melts sound?”

      “Like manna from heaven. I speak for all starving college students everywhere when I say, words cannot do justice to your munificence.”

      Snickering, I put the ground beef in the microwave. “Calm down, I already agreed to make the food. No need for sweet talk.”

      “But it’s fun. Your nose wrinkles when you laugh at me.”

      I fought the urge to cover said nose. Some girls could do adorable bunny wriggles, but mine was too long—beakish, according to an ex who’d had enough of my shit. As personal problems went, however, it wasn’t exactly original. There were tons of other Jewish girls in the same situation; I wasn’t special. In fact, I probably wasn’t even the only princess rebelling with piercings and alt-hair. So I made a face instead of revealing that he’d made me feel self-conscious for a few seconds. On two occasions, Max and I had made out. Both times, we were messed up emotionally and it was good that we’d confined the rebound sex to kissing. Otherwise it might be tough to fry meat while he talked about the work he was doing on his motorcycle.

      “Wait, I thought you were done?”

      He sighed at me. “The mechanical overhaul is done, but now I’m working on cosmetic restoration. I can’t stop until it’s finished.”

      “The fate of the world hangs in the balance?” I teased, shaping the thawed meat into patties. Next I sliced up some onions to caramelize.

      “I promised somebody, that’s all.” His expression was strange and serious, unlike the guy I’d known for three years.

      But Max was...odd. Like, he gave the impression he was all jokes, all about the party, but then he flipped a switch and revealed a glimpse of the real person underneath. In all honesty, I was much more interested in that guy—the serious, smart, intense one. Most people had no idea he was a mechanical engineering major, which required knowledge of physics, thermodynamics, kinematics, structural analysis and electricity. And hell, I only knew that because I looked it up on Wikipedia after finding out what he was studying.

      “That sounds like a story,” I said quietly.

      He held my gaze for two beats, then looked away. “I guess it is.”

       Message received.

      I finished our food and we ate in front of the TV, then went back to killing things in the game. But by nine, I was bored. I put down the controller, stretching my stiff muscles in an exaggerated arch of my back. “Okay, I’m done.”

      “Don’t go,” he said.

      “Huh?” Startled, I swung back toward the couch, catching a bleak, sad look in his dark, dark eyes.

      It was like realizing a friend had been hiding raw slashes under their sleeves all this time. His thick lashes swept down, covering the expression, but it was too late. I can’t unsee it. My chest felt tight with indecision. If I made a joke, he’d take his cue from me, and it would be like this never happened. Maybe that would be for the best.

      “I don’t want to play anymore,” I answered.

      “We could go for a ride.”

      To me, it seemed like Max didn’t want to be alone tonight. He rode his bike when he was running from something, but he’d never invited me along. There was no excuse to refuse since classes hadn’t started up again. I made a snap decision.

      “Okay, let me get a jacket.” My pants and concert T-shirt were fine, so I added boots and a hoodie with a skull on the back.

      “That was fast.” He jiggled his keys with one hand and grabbed me with the other, yanking me out of the apartment and down the stairs. As we approached his bike, he asked, “Have you ever ridden one of these before?”

      “What do you think?” I was curious what he’d say.

      “Probably...yes.”