8. Anastasia
Anastasia
T he first day of classes always wracks my nerves. I opt for a black fitted skirt, over-the-knee boots, and a tucked-in white blouse. I leave my wavy brown hair loose, but I debate pinning it back until I have no time left to scrutinize myself.
It feels like this year everything will be different.
Having already been plastered in a tabloid against my will, I can’t help the surge of anxiety when I’m out in society that makes me feel like there’s always a camera watching, waiting for the next snap so the tabloids can spin their own narrative about my life.
I hiss when my thumb stings, and I realize I’ve broken skin with my fidgeting.
Cursing, I suck on my thumb before I can get blood on my top.
What will the tabloids decide that was from?
America’s hopeful sweetheart wrestles grizzly bear.
Okay, that’s a stretch, but so is assuming one close hold, albeit kind of intimate-looking , merits a full-blown relationship with my guard.
I sigh. This is going to be a long semester.
Rhett is waiting for me in the foyer, looking too good to be a postgrad student at their wit’s end wondering why he didn’t just take his graduate diploma and run.
His black T-shirt hugs his toned torso, and it should be criminal how, paired with a leather jacket and black jeans, he’s the lovechild of Damon Salvatore and Geralt of Rivia.
He’s immune to any color. Rhett finishes talking on his phone, hanging up the moment he sees me, and slides it into his back pocket without taking his eyes off me for even a flicker.
I shouldn’t get giddy over that small, insignificant detail.
Over the past week we’ve met every day. Just for a few gym sessions, and for the more thorough tour I denied him on his first day.
We’ve agreed on what’s appropriate and what he’s comfortable with for our ruse.
I’ve learned a few more things about him, such as how he has a best friend called Xavier that he hasn’t seen in a while but plans to soon now he’s in Washington, D.C.
He wants to become FBI, but working through the secret service is an easier path after losing his fiancée.
My heart hurts for him so badly I don’t know how to express it, other than to show him I don’t expect anything from him, and that he can push me away anytime he needs to, so long as he doesn’t lock me out for good.
“You ready?” he asks, taking my hand to try to make it as natural of a reaction as possible. It’s too easy, and even still, my stomach flutters each time.
“As I’ll ever be,” I sing.
The morning is bright, but the sunshine is a mockery with fall coming in. It shivers a chill over me as we cross the front lawn to the garage.
We choose the jeep for school. Or, rather, I don’t have a say in the matter when Rhett comes to the conclusion it’s the safest of my father’s collection.
“You look beautiful.” He leans in to say this as he opens the car door for me.
He’s too damned good at his role. I wish he wasn’t.
Wish chivalry were dead to him, as this kind of attention doesn’t exist in the men I’ve dated.
It would make it easier to remember he’s just. My.
Guard. Or perhaps I could cling to his fairy-tale ways as a separation from reality.
He wants to impress my father—nothing more.
Wants a good report card. If he were a real boyfriend I’d get my own door, he’d call me pretty maybe once a month, he’d never notice a haircut, he’d buy me flowers on the anniversary I’d have to wait to see if he remembered—he wouldn’t, of course—and we’d live a very mundane vanilla life.
I know that’s a grasp of desperation. Somehow I don’t think there’s anything vanilla about Rhett Kaiser.
The peaceful car ride is over too soon, and then I’m staring up at the giant university building for the first time in my final year.
You chose to do this, Ana. Clearly, I’m a sadist for academic torture.
It’s both exhilarating to be coming to the end of my studies and daunting I’ll have to face the world without the yearly routine to keep me on some kind of path.
I often find it hard to see what lies beyond all this.
So, naturally, I’ve avoided paving the steps beyond my institutional bubble.
Like clockwork Rhett is out of the car and helping me out, the gentleman act not failing to stop my heart for a moment.
People don’t just glance as we pass; they stalk Rhett as if he’s a shiny new toy or the menu for lunch, and I really can’t blame them.
He has a unique look about him, with the silvery hair and clear blue eyes, and he’s so tall and built like stone that it’s impossible for him to blend in.
But as his hand is laced in mine their judgment trails over me too, evaluating our match, trying to figure out if he’s too good for me.
The stares are loud, and I don’t realize I’ve been fidgeting until he brings our hands to his lips and kisses my knuckles.
“What’s wrong?” he asks over my skin.
“Nothing.”
Truly, there isn’t. It’s just my simple, overactive, irrational nerves acting up.
He pulls me to the side, up against a wall, and plants his other hand by my head, creating a cage of safety. Rhett’s thumb brushes over the raw, torn skin of mine.
“How can I help this?” he asks.
I’m a little stunned. Nervous habits aren’t a risk to my life—not really. He can’t sense the dangerous speed of my heart too, can he?
“It’s nothing,” I insist, growing irritable as a natural defense mechanism.
Rhett searches my eyes, seeming to read that I don’t want to talk about it, so he nods and continues to lead us.
“How do you know your way around?” I ask.
“I memorized your schedule, then the layout of the campus.”
“That was unnecessary. I could have guided us.”
“I have a job, remember,” he says teasingly. “I need to know every possible exit and route to your classes.”
“That’s a bit extreme. No one is going to assassinate me.”
“You underestimate the cruelty of the world, little bird.”
I swallow any argument at that. He’s been dealt the worst of life’s cruel hand, and I promised not to protest any of his safety measures.
“Ana!”
I jump at the excitable squeal of my best friend. Spinning, my hand leaves Rhett’s to embrace Riley, who bounds over. She casts one knowing look over my shoulder and I loop her arm to walk slightly ahead of Rhett before he can see her suggestive smile.
I told Riley over the phone all about our forced arrangement after the student mixer party.
She found it hilarious and claimed she’d gladly switch places—which, if we didn’t look the complete opposite, would have been a ruse to my ruse I might have explored.
It reminded us of an old friend, actually.
Her name was Nina Temsworth and she looked so much like me that people would mistake us for sisters often.
She skipped town five years ago, before we were all to start this very course.
It wasn’t out of character for her to disappear since her father was a deadbeat drunk her mother left her when she was only five.
We always thought she’d come back, and to this day I miss her and still hope she does.
Riley and I chat about the party and the week that dragged after it. I can’t talk so openly with her when most of my week consisted of Rhett being too nearby. At the lecture hall his phone vibrates in a familiar pattern.
“I have to take this. Save me a seat,” he says, leaning in to press a kiss to my temple, all for show, while surveying the room filling up with students.
First-day enthusiasm buzzes through the room, but it will slowly die out throughout the semester. Students are like any new bloom, so flourishing and promising at first sight, but inevitably they wither under the changing pressure of coursework, like the seasons.
I nod to Rhett and watch him leave before Riley pulls me up the steps to find our seats. This class is on poetry, and I wonder how Rhett is going to pass the time in his boredom.
“Hey, Ana,” a smooth voice says to my other side, breaking my conversation with Riley.
His name is Adam, and last year we had something of a fling before I found out he was seeing some other woman at the same time. I wasn’t his girlfriend, but it still hurt.
“What do you want?” I ask sourly.
The theatre is hardly packed full, and he has no shortage of friends to bother with his company. His arrival at the same time as me is damn convenient.
He holds up his hands. “I know we had a rough time last year, but I was thinking of you over the summer.”
I raise a hand to my chest, faking endearment. “Out of the two fuck-toys you had, I was the one who lingered on your mind? I’m flattered.”
“You were more than that. You know that, don’t you?”
“If I was, you wouldn’t have needed to place your dick elsewhere.”
He tips my hair over my shoulder, admiring my neck, and though I stiffen I don’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction.
“The seat you’re in is taken,” I say. “You’ll want to move before he gets back.”
Adam’s brow hooks. “Didn’t realize you’d moved on so fast.”
“You know, I thought the same damn thing six months ago. Leave me alone, Adam. I’m not interested.”
“Arrogant of you to think that’s what I came over for.”
My anger turns hot with the embarrassment he succeeds at surfacing.
Did I mention Adam Sullevan happens to be the son of my father’s main competitor in the running for president?
You may think rivalry for each other runs in our blood, but in truth our fathers have a great respect for each other.
Too bad Rolf Sullevan’s son didn’t grasp that concept.
Riley leans over me. “Adam, everything she’s said can be condensed to two words: Fuck. Off.”
I love my best friend. She’s so quiet and ridiculously intelligent, but her pissed-off side is my favorite when it often comes so comically sudden. I, on the other hand, am usually the one who gets into more trouble than it’s worth.