Ann Aguirre - The Shape Of My Heart

“I’ve been in pre-med with Kia since freshman year. She mentioned she wants to break up with her boyfriend, but she’s been putting it off because it’ll mean moving out. I didn’t say anything because I wanted to talk to you guys first. But—”

“Is she nice?” I cut in at the same time Max asked, “Is she hot?”

Angus smirked. “Yes and yes. I think she’d make you both happy.”

Then he got out his phone, flipping through the gallery until he found a selfie of him with a pretty African-American girl. She had a great smile, bright and friendly, dark skin and short, natural hair. Sometimes the faces people made in photos gave me a vibe about them, and she seemed like she’d be fun.

I took his cell, brought up her contact info and said, “Call her.”

“You mean I made flyers for nothing?” Max grumbled, but I could tell he was glad to have it settled. Maybe.

He got off the floor and wormed his way between Angus and me. Three people on a twin, probably not what the manufacturer intended. “If you break my bed—”

“Shh. It’s ringing.” Angus frowned at us like we were delinquent children. “Kia? It’s me. Do you have a minute?” That sounded like code for Can you talk freely?

The volume was loud enough for me to hear her reply. “Yeah, I can email you the notes.”

“I get it. Call me back when you can.”

“Whoa,” Max said. “Sounds like the boyfriend’s a controlling asshole.”

Angus nodded. “I’ve been telling her to get out for three months.”

“Is he abusive?” The answer wouldn’t change my mind about rooming with her, but we might need to amp up security around here.

“Depends on your definition. In my view, he’s overly invested in where she goes and who she talks to. And he disapproves of me. A lot.”

“Homophobe?” I asked.

“Young Republican, so...probably? He wears a lot of sweater vests, comes from a conservative political family in the Bible Belt.”

“Ah. He’s lousy with privilege,” Max guessed.

Angus’s phone buzzed then and he grabbed it on the first ring, putting it on speaker. “Kia?”

“What’s up?”

“Is Duncan giving you a hard time today?”

“Always.” She sounded tired.

No wonder. Between the last year of pre-med and a demanding boyfriend, she must be sick of the drama. But we needed to speak up before she said something she’d hate revealing to strangers. “Hey, this is Courtney, one of Angus’s roommates.”

“And I’m Max, the other one.”

“Are we on a conference call?” She sounded amused more than annoyed, so that was a decent start.

“I talked to them and if you really want to dump the D -bag, you can move in here. Courtney would be sharing with you. Want to come over, see if it’s a good fit?”

“Yes, please.” Her response was heartfelt.

An hour later, Kia was on our couch, after a quick tour of the apartment and my half-empty room. She was taller than me, thinner, too, no surprise there, but nowhere near as imposing as Nadia. From listening to her conversation with Angus, I already knew I wanted this to happen. If it didn’t work out and we had to call in Physical Education Kelly, I’d be bummed.

“I feel like I need to be up-front about this,” I said.

Max elbowed me. He thought I was going to tell her that I was bi, but there was no reason to lead with that. Frowning at him, I went on, “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.