34. Ayana
CHAPTER 34
Ayana
R eturning to D.C. was like slipping on a comfy old pair of pajamas. No matter how long I’d been away, the city was so easy and familiar, I didn’t have to think about where I was going or how.
The Brotherhood, Jordan, Beaumont…they all melted beneath the sunshine and maple-scented breeze.
Vuk let me set the itinerary. Since he’d visited the city before, I skipped the touristy spots and took him to my favorite hidden gems.
Our first stop was Apollo Hill Books, a charming bookstore stuffed to the brim with new and vintage titles alike. We didn’t buy anything, but I loved browsing the aisles and breathing in the crisp scent of books. Afterward, I took him to Crumble and Bake (not a hidden gem, but they had the best cupcakes) and a cool interactive spy museum.
“You would make a good spy,” I said after we left the museum. “You have that whole dark, brooding thing going on.”
Vuk’s mouth twitched. “You think spies are dark and brooding?”
“Aren’t they?”
“Usually no. The point is to blend in. They’re usually unassuming, like him…” He nodded at a plain-faced man wearing a blue sweater and glasses. “Or her.” The “her” in question was an elderly woman with curly gray hair and a pink crocheted cardigan.
“I guess,” I said doubtfully. “But I like the dark and brooding thing better.”
We meandered through the cobblestone streets of Georgetown. The late-afternoon sun slanted against the quaint storefronts, and my usual brisk Manhattan pace had slowed to an easy saunter. Vuk walked quietly beside me, his expression pensive.
I’d avoided mentioning his birthday since we left the restaurant. It hadn’t occurred to me that it might be a sensitive topic until he flinched at my celebration suggestion. Lazar was his twin, which meant they’d shared the same birthday. The reminder of his brother’s absence must be incredibly painful, which was why I was determined to fill today with happy memories instead.
“Oh, I love this place,” I said when we passed a familiar white storefront. Dozens of beautiful glass bottles gleamed in the window display. “It’s one of my favorite shops.”
“Let’s go in.”
“But it’s a perfumery.” I could shop for perfumes and shoes all day, but this was Vuk’s day, not mine.
“I’m aware.” He placed a hand on the small of my back and guided me firmly into the shop.
His palm burned through my wool coat. When he removed his hand, the imprint of his touch lingered, and little sparks of electricity buzzed through my veins.
I was so flustered I almost didn’t hear the sales associate greet us.
“Welcome. Can I help you find anything?” Her tone was polite, but I caught her side-eyeing Vuk’s scars. Her lip curled into a small grimace.
Blood rushed to my face. I glared at her, and she quickly averted her gaze.
“No, thank you,” I said curtly. “We’re just looking.”
Vuk raised his brows when I grabbed his arm and dragged him to the back, far away from the rude associate.
Didn’t she know it was impolite to stare? If she had to stare, then she should’ve at least had the decency not to make a disgusted face.
I’m used to it. Vuk examined a shelf of essential oils, his face impassive.
“What?” I tried to breathe through my silent fuming. In the grand scheme of things, a stranger’s judgment fell way down on the priority list of problems, but for some reason, her reaction to Vuk rankled me.
The staring. I’m used to it. He picked up a sandalwood oil, read the label, and put it back.
The fact that he’d noticed the associate’s behavior infuriated me all over again. “That doesn’t mean it’s right. It’s—” I stopped myself. Did I really want to spend this time complaining about someone who didn’t matter? It would only make Vuk feel bad.
I forced another breath and changed the topic. “Anyway, I used to come here all the time,” I said. That associate had definitely not been an employee back then. “Everyone knew me by name, and they were nice enough to let me sample a ton of fragrances even though I didn’t have the money to buy most of them.” I smiled at the memory. “I told you I majored in chemistry too, right? Well, I was fascinated by the science of scents. How humans process smell, the interplay of different notes, the way the same perfume can smell different on different people depending on their individual body chemistry. If I hadn’t become a model, I might’ve gone into perfumery, but now, I settle for collecting fragrances instead.”
Vuk had stopped browsing the shelves and was listening intently. I think I saw the collection when I was at your apartment. It was in the living room.
“Those were the empty bottles. I keep the pretty ones on display,” I admitted. “The real collection is in my closet. My sister makes fun of me for it. She says there’s no way I can use them all in my lifetime, and that’s probably true. But I don’t collect them to wear. I collect them to…remember, I guess. Some people buy postcards or T-shirts as souvenirs; I buy perfumes. Lemon verbena for the Amalfi Coast, green tea and rose for Japan, lavender for Provence. A different scent for a different memory. That’s why I only buy them for places I love.”
I ran my fingers along the smooth wood shelves. The older I got, the more susceptible I became to nostalgia. One whiff of a familiar scent, and I was instantly transported back to a certain place and time.
I’d tried to explain it to Liya once, but she didn’t really get it. She was a visual person, so photos and videos meant more to her than the rich aroma of our mother’s coffee or the spices and herbs peppering our father’s kitchen.
“Did you know smell is more closely tied to memory than any other sense because of the brain’s anatomy?” I rarely got a chance to talk about this particular hobby, and the words spilled out without thought. “Touch, taste, sight, hearing—those all pass through the thalamus first before they’re relayed to the relevant parts of the brain. But scents bypass the thalamus and go straight to the olfactory bulb, which is directly connected to the amygdala and hippocampus. It’s why…” I trailed off, my face heating. It was his birthday, and here I was, going on and on about my hobby. “Sorry. I’m nerding out.”
It’s okay. I like hearing you nerd out . A smile ghosted Vuk’s mouth. What was the last perfume you bought?
He seemed genuinely interested.
I cast my mind back to my last purchase. “Snow and pine,” I said. “Finland. I did a photo shoot for Stella Alonso’s winter collection there last year. I didn’t have enough free time to stay and explore after, so I didn’t get to see the Northern Lights, but the mountains were so beautiful I had to get a souvenir.”
We dallied at the shop for a while longer until our stomachs rumbled. We were about to leave when an idea sparked in my head.
“Can you wait for me outside?” I asked. “It’s gotten so crowded in here, and I have to use the restroom.”
I pretended to head to the restroom until Vuk was gone. Once I was sure he couldn’t see me, I doubled back and grabbed what I was looking for. I made sure to bypass the rude sales associate from earlier when I paid.
I walked out a few minutes later, shopping bag in hand. Vuk looked up from his phone, his eyebrows arching again when I thrust the bag at him.
“This is for you,” I chirped. “It’s a thank-you present. For saving my life.”
He stared at the bag like it was a viper waiting to strike. You didn’t have to get me anything.
“I wanted to. It’s nothing fancy, but the scent reminded me of you.”
He still didn’t take the bag.
A twinge of doubt set in. Had I made a mistake? Should I have left it alone and not gotten him anything at all? I’d framed it as a thank-you gift instead of a birthday gift, but maybe presents in general were a trigger for him too.
“If you don’t like cologne, I can return it,” I said uncertainly. “Don’t feel like you have to?—”
No. I want it. Vuk swiftly removed the bag from my grasp.
I bit back a smile. “Open it.”
He did, his expression wary. The sleek black bottle with silver engraving matched his majority-black wardrobe perfectly. It’d caught my eye when we were browsing, and the scent notes were perfect for him too.
I pointed them out on the packaging. “Soft woods for the mountains, which you said you liked. A hint of rum because you run a liquor and spirits company. Vanilla, for warmth and comfort.” Which is what you mean to me. I was too shy to say the last part out loud, so I hoped he picked up on my underlying meaning.
Vuk turned the bottle over his hand. He didn’t say anything.
“I wasn’t sure what types of scents you liked, so I guessed.” I shifted my weight from foot to foot. The sun was unbearably warm against my skin. “You totally don’t have to wear it. I just thought it would be nice for special occasions. I don’t think you smell bad or anything.”
For the love of God, stop talking. When I was nervous, I rambled, and I was rambling a lot.
Vuk’s small smile left my insecurities in the dust. I’d forgotten how beautiful he was when he let his guard down. His whole face softened, making him look years younger than he was.
Noted . He placed the cologne back in the bag.
“Thank you, srce , ” he said. “I love it.”
I smiled back, my giddiness taking flight. “You’re welcome.”
We resumed our walk. We were both hungry, and Vuk didn’t want anything fancy, so we stopped at the nearest fast casual restaurant for pizza (him) and a veggie burger (me).
“What does srce or srce moje mean?” I asked toward the end of our meal. “You keep calling me that.”
Vuk finished his slice without answering.
“Hello?” I waved my hand in front of his face. “Earth to Vuk.”
He swallowed and wiped his mouth. It’s better if you don’t know.
“Is it something embarrassing? You’re not calling me, like, little rat or something, are you?”
Vuk smirked but didn’t confirm or deny.
“I could just look it up,” I said. “Once I figure out how to spell it.”
So look it up.
I let out a frustrated growl. “For someone who can be so thoughtful, you can also be a real asshole.”
He shrugged. I never said I was a good person.
“I didn’t say you weren’t a good person. I said you’re an asshole.” My words lacked any real bite, but I thought I’d give him a taste of his own medicine. “ Ahya .”
His eyes narrowed. What does that mean?
I took a demure sip of water and smiled. “Look it up.”
That was when it happened. He laughed. Again .
It was only my second time ever hearing him laugh—fully and unabashedly, with his eyes crinkling at the corners and his teeth flashing white against his face.
The sight and sound were so captivating, my ability to breathe ceased to exist.
Unfortunately, his laughter also drew the attention of a nearby table of college students, who ruined the moment with their stage whispers.
“Is that who I think it is? Oh my God, it is . That’s Ayana Kidane.”
“The model? Oh my God, you’re right. What’s she doing with him ?”
“Maybe he’s really rich. Pretty girls date ugly guys all the time for money.”
“Hmm, I wouldn’t say he’s ugly. It’s just those scars…”
“Yeah, they’re pretty gross.”
“But isn’t she engaged to that Jordan Ford guy? I remember reading an article about that in Mode de Vie. ”
“Hello? Where have you been? Some gang shot up their wedding and?—”
I’d had enough. I hadn’t confronted the sales associate earlier, but this group’s audacity was more than I could take.
I spun toward them and experienced a vicious stab of satisfaction when they fell silent, their faces red.
Yeah, I could hear you, assholes.
“The next time you talk shit about people, have the courtesy not to do it within earshot,” I snapped. I didn’t care if I ended up on some celebrity gossip forum for being “rude” or “a bitch.” They deserved it. “His scars are a sign of character, but your actions are a sign that you lack basic common decency. If I were you, I’d have a harder time looking in the mirror than anyone else here. It’s not him who’s ‘ugly’—it’s you.”
I shoved my chair back and stood. I belatedly remembered I hadn’t finished my burger, but it was too late.
“Come on,” I told a bemused-looking Vuk. “Let’s go. I’ve lost my appetite.”
He didn’t argue.
The table of stunned collegiates stared at us, their mouths hanging open in four identical Os.
On our way out, I “accidentally” knocked one of their sodas into their lap. It was petty, but I’d be damned if it didn’t feel good.