Chapter Eighteen
Adrik
The train rocked gently beneath Adrik as it cut through the gray morning toward the University of Rostock.
He sat by the window, watching the winter-bare trees blur past, pretending he wasn’t scanning every station platform for a familiar wavy golden-brown head.
He told himself he wasn’t hoping to see Hans. He absolutely was.
When the train slowed, Amelia Dirksen plopped into the seat beside him. She smelled faintly of vanilla lotion and carried enough notebooks to build a small fort.
“Morning, Adrik,” she chirped.
He nodded. “Morning.”
“Don’t you have a car?”
“Motorcycle.”
“Why are you taking the train then?”
“Waiting for the registration.”
She talked about her roommate stealing her yogurt again—and he listened with half an ear; the other half still stuck on Hans. Hoping he’d show up today, but if he did, would he look at him the same way he had before everything fell apart?
“Where were you educated?” Adrik asked. “You speak excellent English.”
“I was educated in New York at Columbia University. I’m here on a visa.”
“New York?” Adrik had graduated from Columbia University too.
“Did you go to college?”
Time to talk about something else. “Hey, do you assist Professor Schroeger?”
She nodded. “Hans keeps me busy as his aide.”
When they arrived at the university, Amelia didn’t attend the language lab with him.
Class was the usual blur of grammar rules and pronunciation drills.
Adrik kept his computer open, clicking through German exercises, repeating phrases under his breath.
Anything to keep his mind busy. Anything to keep from replaying Hans walking away.
After class, he caught up with Amelia in the hallway.
“Hey,” he said. “Do you know where the piercing place is? The one near campus?”
She brightened immediately. “Oh! Yeah, it’s not far. I can show you. Want to grab lunch first? Cafeteria’s right there.”
He hesitated for only a second. “Sure.”
They made their way to the courtyard, the cold air biting his cheeks. Inside the cafeteria, the warmth hit him instantly—the smell of fries, coffee, and too many students packed into one space. They found a small table near the window.
“So,” she said, leaning forward with interest, “what kind of piercing are you getting?”
He took a sip of his soda. “Nipples. With barbells.”
Her eyes widened, then she grabbed his hand across the table. “Oh my God, that’s so sexy.”
Adrik blinked, unsure what to do with that. Compliments from strangers were easy. Compliments from people who weren’t Hans were… complicated. He gave her a small smile anyway. “Thanks.” He pulled away from her.
He was about to say something else when movement near the entrance caught his eye. Hans strolled in—and Adrik’s heart did something stupid and painful in his chest. Hans wasn’t alone. Another man walked beside him, tall, dark-haired, wearing a tweed jacket that screamed professor.
Adrik leaned toward Amelia. “Who is that with him?”
She followed his gaze. “Oh, that’s Günter Franz. English professor like Hans. They’re good friends.”
Good friends. The words sat curdled in his stomach.
Hans looked up then, and their eyes met. Just for a second. But it was enough to make Adrik’s breath catch. Hans’ eyes widened in surprise. Maybe even a little thrown. The impulse to stand, cross the room, and speak—even a meaningless phrase—overwhelmed Adrik.
But this was Hans’ workplace. Students everywhere. Professors. Eyes. Gossip.
Bad idea.
He stayed in his seat, fingers tightening around his soda cup. At least he saw him. At least Hans met his gaze.
It wasn’t much.
But it was something.
When Adrik and Amelia finished lunch, she surprised him by marching straight toward Hans’ table—where he sat with Professor Günter, sipping coffee like he owned the place. Adrik followed a step behind her, already feeling the tension coil in his stomach.
“I’ll be a little late, Hans,” Amelia announced. “I’m taking Adrik to get his nipples pierced.”
Hans’ head snapped up. His glare hit Adrik like a slap—sharp, disapproving, unmistakably personal. Heat crawled up Adrik’s neck, but he forced a slow, smug smile anyway.
If he wants to frown at me like that, fine. Let him stew. Fine by me. Be jealous.
Adrik didn’t say a word, just lifted his eyebrows in a silent “yeah, you heard her” before following Amelia out of the cafeteria.
Students streamed past them, bundled in scarves and heavy coats, the campus buzzing with chatter and the clatter of bikes on pavement.
Amelia looped her arm through his. “Hans looked like he wanted to throw you through a wall.”
Adrik huffed a laugh. “He’ll live.”
A strange mix of satisfaction and a dull ache settled in his chest. He wished Hans cared, even if he was acting like a jerk. At least it meant he wasn’t invisible.
They strolled down a side street lined with old brick buildings and bare trees. The sky hung low and gray, the winter light making everything look washed out. Amelia kept talking about her cousin’s disastrous tattoo, but Adrik’s mind drifted.
He’d wanted this piercing for years. Back home, he never would’ve dared. His father would’ve shut it down instantly, probably with a lecture about “respectability” and “family image.” But here? In Germany? Far away from all that?
Between the bakery and the thrift store, the Tempel Rostock Tattoo the new piercings throbbing with a warm, steady pulse. A strange sense of pride swelled within him. Independent. Like he’d retrieved a part of himself that belonged only to him.
He boarded the train, found a seat beside the window, and leaned against the cold glass as the city blurred past.
Maybe Hans was still thinking about him—fine. But Adrik had other things on his mind now, like the thrill of doing whatever the hell he wanted, maybe even getting a tattoo, and heading to Seebrise tonight without answering to anyone.