47. Terrible At Boredom
Terrible At Boredom
After we wake up late, the rest of the day blurs.
The kind of blur powered by the rush of being behind, an unconscious way of setting the next twenty-four hours off-kilter.
Either that, or the way just the breath in my lungs feels like it's on fire and under water at once, heady and thick.
The way he makes me feel, the way the world changes shape and color when he's around, is something I can't really describe. Other than it makes it almost impossible to concentrate, or tell time. The following morning, Rafe’s already texting ideas for Saturday.
a little joyride on the motorcycle?
then dinner somewhere with actual chairs this time?
you pick.
A few minutes later:
or I’ll pick.
you’ll hate it.
but I’ll look smug in leather.
and you’ll forgive me.
Then:
no sticks.
per the agreement.
I promise.
I can almost hear him laughing through the screen, see the tilt of his head, that dimple that appears when he’s trying to charm his way out of being ridiculous. I send a single emoji, an eye roll, and shove my phone into my bag before I start smiling like an idiot in public.
When I arrive at Mama and Tata's house that evening for our weekly feast, Mama’s scolding Tata for sneaking bites; Natalia’s pacing Kacper around the room in her arms, drool pooling on the triple bibs she’s stacked on him, looking at him like he’s a science experiment gone wrong while he shrieks in delight.
Aga’s propped up at the table, glowing, the bump starting to show beneath her sweatshirt.
Piotr sits beside her, beaming just from the sight of her.
Dominik isn’t here, thankfully. He’s busy, apparently.
That’s what Piotr says when I sit down, his tone carefully neutral.
But I know him, busy means angry. I try not to think about it.
I focus on helping Mama with the placki, on laughing when Tata makes his usual comments about my “fancy surgeon hands” and how they were meant for bread dough, not scalpels.
It’s all normal, ordinary, comforting chaos.
Piotr’s question knocks me back, “You coming to Zosia’s birthday tomorrow?”
My fork stops mid-air. “What?”
He blinks. “Please tell me you didn’t forget.”
“No, I didn’t forget,” I lie, already pulling out my phone. Sure enough, there it is: a text from Dominik from three days ago.
please come for Zosia’s birthday. whatever is between us she would like her auntie there
Guilt flares. “Of course I’ll be there,” I say quickly.
“Good,” Piotr says. “Mama and Tata offered to host this year. Bigger space, easier with the whole neighborhood coming. You know how it gets.”
I nod, trying to smile. “Perfect, the more chaos the better.”
Except I already know who’s going to need warning. I pull my phone back out under the table and text Rafe.
Something came up. Can’t meet up until later on Saturday.
The reply comes almost instantly.
what happened?
everything okay?
Zosia’s birthday party, I almost forgot. They’ve all asked and I can’t let her down.
why don’t I join you?
I stare at the message, panic rising. Absolutely not.
He’d be eaten alive by the neighborhood gossip before the cake’s even cut.
Dominik would be there and on top of it all, meeting my parents?
He didn't even hesitate, maybe he's had a brain injury since the last time I saw him.
This will be a total mess, there's no way. Across the table, Piotr’s watching me, smirking.
“What are you up to?” he asks. “You've got that same face.
The one you had when you hid your skinny boyfriend in my closet.
Best deal I ever made, a whole month of doing my laundry.
" He laughs but I ignore him, pretending he's hallucinating, my face a picture of calm denial.
Then he leans in, and tilts his chin towards me.
"Come on, siostra. Who are you texting?"
I freeze. “What? Piotr! No one.”
“Uh-huh.” He leans closer, stage-whispering to the table. “Kasia’s got a secret, so easy to read.”
Mama immediately turns. “What secret? What face?”
“Nothing!” I protest, standing so fast the chair legs squeal. I lean over the table and swat Piotr’s arm. “Shut up before I go spilling all your teenage secrets.” He chuckles, dodging me easily.
When he settles back once I’ve stopped my onslaught, he grins. “You’re hiding something.”
I drop back into my seat with a sigh, realizing there’s no escape. “Fine. It’s Rafe. Obelus. He's here, in Seattle. We've been… dating. He wanted to go out tomorrow, and I told him about the birthday. Now he wants to come.”
The room erupts.
“Obelus?! Dating?!” Natalia squeals. “He wants to come to our house?”
“Nasz dom?! (Our home?!)” Mama gasps, crossing herself. “The singer man? With all that metal in his face?”
Tata looks bewildered. “Is it safe for the children? Zosia might get confused! He can't show up in all that paint and face covering, Kasia.”
“Oh. My. God,” I mutter.
Mama’s already fretting. “But what will he eat? Does he eat normal food? Cabbage? Bigos?”
Natalia’s halfway to the hallway already. “I need to plan my outfit. Hair mask, serum, lashes.”
Aga just blinks. “Wait. Really? He wants to come to a children’s birthday party? Someone like him? He must really like you, Kasia.” A knowing smile on her face.
“Seems so,” Piotr says, far too pleased. “Time to get your blood man drunk on good Polish vodka and ask him why he hit his friend in the video.”
I shoot him a look that could kill. “Piotr.”
He holds up his hands in mock surrender. “What? Public wants to know. I’m part of the public.”
I take a breath and text back before the room can combust further.
It’ll be chaotic, but yes, you’re officially invited now. If you want to. You really don't have to.
Then I put the phone down and sigh, already regretting everything.
Mama clasps her hands together. “A famous man at my table. Bo?e ?wi?ty, we need to iron the tablecloth.”
Somewhere beneath the noise, my phone buzzes again.
perfect.
I’ll bring flowers and my best behavior.
God help him. God help me.
The entire neighborhood shows up, Mama wasn’t exaggerating when she said everyone.
The living room’s bursting with chatter, tables lined with dishes, kids running between legs with frosting already smeared across their faces.
There’s schabowy, kielbasa, cakes from three different bakeries, and Zosia’s new obsession, a rainbow balloon arch so big it threatens to lift the house.
Then there’s Rafe, he shows up precisely on time, incredibly composed, in his signature dark shirt rolled at the sleeves, flowers on top of a box big enough to hide a small human.
He's carries it with surprising ease. The moment he steps inside, the room goes quiet. You can feel everyone’s heads turn.
Mama freezes with a ladle midair. Tata straightens like he’s back in the army.
“Dzień dobry (Good morning),” Rafe says, that perfect, polite smile in place.
His charm is absurd, so controlled, effortless, like he’s harnessing every watt of stage presence and wrapping it in calm.
“I hope I’m not too early.” He could be at a press conference, the way he delivers it, smooth and measured.
The thought crosses my mind: maybe he’s never used the full force of what he can do to a crowd, on me.
The thought unravels something inside me, a little break in my defenses. For the first time I wonder if Rithy was so afraid because he saw Rafe opening up, and knew exactly what that meant. That he wasn’t performing for me.
“Too early? Bo?e, come in, come in!” Mama stammers, ushering him inside. “You are so tall, my goodness. Isn't he tall, Tata? Oh, you must be starving.”
Zosia spots him first and barrels toward him, hair flying, birthday tiara slipping. “Is that mine? Can I open it?” She eyes the box like it might be another cake, ready to bite.
Rafe crouches down to her level, grin wide. “It is, it’s from me and your Auntie Kasia. Go ahead, it’s your birthday. Unleash destruction.”
He slides the box forward. Zosia tears into it with the determination of a pirate.
When the wrapping falls away, she gasps, a full dollhouse, two stories tall, with tiny lights that flicker and furniture sealed in neat plastic bags, waiting to be placed.
She grabs a bag and tugs at my sleeve for help, eyes gleaming.
As each piece comes out, I’m stunned by the detail, by how real it all looks.
Her little hands fly to her mouth. “Wow. Did you make it?”
“I wish,” Rafe says. “But I helped pick it out. Your Auntie told me you’d love something you could play pretend with.”
She throws her arms around his neck with frosting-covered hands before anyone can say a word or stop it. Natalia looks absolutely horrified. Zosia squeals, darting back to the dollhouse and trying to arrange the furniture, her fingers sticky with sugar and joy.
The whole room softens instantly, everyone except Dominik. He’s been standing by the table since Rafe arrived, expression unreadable, drink untouched. When Zosia hugs Rafe again, something flickers across his face. Not anger, loss.
“What an entrance,” he says finally, his voice deep enough to cut through the noise.
Zosia is thankfully absorbed in her new toy, and Natalia moves to keep it that way, pretending interest in the tiny sofa.
Dominik doesn’t look away, instead he digs his heels in, staring him down, cocking his head to the side with suspicion.
“Always so generous?” he asks. “Or just trying to buy your way in?”
“Dominik,” I warn under my breath, but he keeps going.
“You know,” he says, eyes still on Rafe, “a month ago Kasia was right here on my arm.” He gestures with a roll of his shoulder, part location, the rest a show of strength. I roll my eyes.
“My girlfriend,” he adds, voice tinged with pride and something uglier underneath, the title like a badge of honor, one he never used until things slipped sideways.
Then he straightens, smirking like he’s reclaiming ground.
“She’ll be back, when you’re off hitting on celebrities in fancy places.
You’ll get bored of us normal people.” The last part lands like a jab meant for both of us, the ghost of our last fight alive in every syllable.
The air stills. Even Mama just keeps stirring the punch, pretending not to notice. Only the kids keep laughing, the background noise of innocence against the tension in the room. Everyone else watches, transfixed, as if the party’s turned into live television.
Rafe just smiles, calm as a blade in its sheath. “Well, lucky for me, I’m terrible at boredom. I’ve been singing the same songs for a couple of decades but it never gets old. Hard to get bored of something you love, right?” He gives a small huff of a laugh and pats his shoulder.
It’s light, disarming. Half the room laughs before Dominik’s brain catches up to his temper. For a second I think he’s actually going to swing.
Piotr’s hand lands on his shoulder first. “Nowicki,” he says, voice firm. “Not in front of the kids.”
Dominik glares at him, then at Rafe, and finally turns away. The room exhales, noise creeping back in like nothing happened. Rafe doesn’t move. He just reaches for my hand and laces his fingers through mine, strong and sure, like he’s planting a flag. The message is unmistakable. His.
I squeeze back, grounding both of us. For a second, he looks at me and mouths, You okay? I nod, and the smallest smile breaks through, just enough to show that dimple that always turns me into a puddle at his feet.
He leans in and whispers something meant only for me. "So that's the friend you warned me about?" I nod "Think he'll slash my tires for that?" I nudge him and let the laugh break the tension, just like he knew it would.
I realize, I might be beyond just falling for him as I let my eyes trace along the curve of his lips, sloping down to his immaculate jawline, stopping at the taunt lines of his neck as he swallows.
I can't stop thinking about the way he said something you love, over and over.
Am I really something, someone, he loves or was it all for the audience?
I try to push it down, but the thought keeps creeping along my spine, reaching into my chest and setting off fireworks in my heart.
The party evens out after that, settling into something resembling normal.
Music, food, laughter, familiar rhythms returning.
For a while, there’s even joy again. Zosia builds her dolls a tiny recreation of all of us in her dollhouse and announces that Auntie Kasia's friend is officially her favorite person.
Then the door opens, and everything changes, no one is more shocked than Dominik when he looks up and sees Lena walk in.
She’s late, of course, drunk, her blonde hair wild, dress short and smile too wide.
But Zosia doesn’t care, all her heart sees is her Mama.
She squeals and runs to her like the world just got brighter.
For a second, just watching her reaction, it almost does.
“Hey, baby,” Lena coos, bending down to kiss her cheek. Then she looks up, sees Dominik sitting with Piotr, and the smile changes shape. “Miss me?”
Before anyone can react, she slides onto his lap, looping her arm around his neck. He doesn’t stop her. Doesn’t move at all, he just looks at me over her shoulder. When she kisses him, too aggressively for a kid's party, more fit for a club or a bedroom, he lets her. The room goes silent.
Zosia’s clapping, thrilled all she sees is her parents, as they are meant to be.
The right one kissing him this time, not Auntie.
Everyone else finds a way to look anywhere but there.
Something twists hard in my chest, not love, not even jealousy.
Just the sting of watching someone you once cared for go back into the fire.
I turn away, head for the kitchen before my face gives me away.
I stand by the counter, staring at the stack of plates, trying to breathe through the noise in my head.
Then I feel him behind me. Rafe doesn’t say anything at first, he just sets a hand against my back.
“You okay?” he asks.
I shake my head. “No, but I will be. It's just disappointing... he knows better. He shouldn't let her use him to try and make me jealous. He doesn't love her, it's just a sad situation.”
He nods. “Yeah. No one in there was a fan, except their daughter. Poor kid."
When I turn, his eyes find mine, full of something I've never noticed, more than love or lust. Some kind of unspoken devotion. Before I can think, he kisses me. The noise of the party fades, nothing else matters. Not Lena, not Dominik, not the eyes just outside the doorway. Just this, just us.