Chapter 11 Lev
LEV
That was infinitely boring while being overstimulating at the same time. If her classes are anything like her book-buying experience, I’m fucking out.
The very books she’s struggling to carry.
It’s admirable how she’s adamantly ignoring me, aware I’m available to carry them but refusing to ask.
After another few feet, her pace slows to the point I’m catching up.
Each book in her stack is a couple inches thick, the size I’d use as computer mounts if nothing else useful was around, so it’s no wonder she’s getting tired.
Without breaking my stride, I swipe them from her arms. At first, she clings tighter, fighting, but after a moment, she concedes with a muttered, “I was managing.”
“You were,” I agree, shifting the books into a better position. “But you don’t need to.”
“If you weren’t here—which is how it should be—I’d be doing it on my own. No need to burden yourself.”
“Denying assistance freely offered is pointless. You have the resource, so use it.”
Her eyes narrow as she falls into step beside me. “Calling yourself a resource?”
“Aren’t I? It’s the entire purpose of my presence.”
While the present people in my life are nothing like my father, Ursin, or Ivan, I’m still a tool—a resource—a weapon—to them.
To Vanessa, I’m one of her Elite. A coveted, respected position, but still a pawn on her game board.
To Dimitri, I’m assistance to locate his father.
Pretty much all I’m good for, according to my father.
Even Zeno, though he’s not the same as my pridurok of a father, has treated me like everyone else. He took advantage of Serafina’s willingness to have me around and exploited her wishes to convince me.
Although advantage seems like I was forced into this. Coerced is more like it. Coerced by the memory of the woman beside me, with her big blue eyes and face so fucking innocent, she makes me want to corrupt her, all while ensuring that very innocence.
Serafina is silent for the remainder of the short trip, and once inside the dorm, I deposit her books on the desk in her room before exiting, heading to mine to hide the gun beneath the mattress—a place it’ll be concealed but accessible.
“Thanks,” she murmurs, trailing me to the common area, now with my laptop under my arm.
Sitting on the couch, I boot up the necessary programs to continue working, as well as the few text messages from Vanessa checking in.
After a few moments of working, Serafina breaks from studying me and backs into her room.
An hour later, she emerges with a simple comment. “Heading to supper.”
This time, I’m quick to retrieve what’s needed, even if she lingers by the door to wait for me. Her semi-willingness is a welcome change and not something I was entirely sure she’d stick to.
We ride the elevator together, but once outside, I slow so she can gain the distance she craves. At the end of the path, she meets up with her friend. Amara, according to Zeno’s report, which I asked for when they were inside the bookstore earlier.
Amara stares my way a bit too long for my liking, but a nudge from Serafina turns her around. During the walk to the student dining hall, she peeks my way twice, unnerving me. More so, I wonder how Serafina is explaining my presence.
If I thought the campus store was a nightmare, it’s nothing compared to the dining hall. I follow three people behind Serafina and her friend and flash my fake student ID—courtesy of Zeno to help me go undetected.
Serafina and her friend head for food while I linger near the tables, scoping the room. The endless buzz of conversation from the packed hall sounds almost identical to the ongoing noise in my head. There are students everywhere.
One. Two. One. My finger taps the side of my leg, trying to convince myself I’m anywhere but here.
Until Serafina passes holding two plates of pizza, it’s so fucking tempting to escape. She not-so-discreetly shoves one into my hand, my own scrambling to grip the plate.
When her gaze latches onto mine, everything dulls. The noise, my headache, it’s all drowned by her eyes—the colour of water on a summer day, with the same sort of heat that makes breathing more difficult. The mysterious shade that was once my comfort and later a source of meltdowns.
She continues on, claiming a table with her friend, and like volume being turned back up, the surrounding noise bombards me again. I back away from her lingering sweet scent and snag an empty table a few away from her. She’s watches me but looks away when her friend starts talking.
Maybe she’s wondering the same I am.
How a person can affect another so much.
Escaping to the dorm becomes the best part of my day. Returning to my laptop makes everything better. Finally…silence.
That is, until she joins me, taking the opposite end of the couch and grabbing the TV remote. She switches it on, finds a specific channel, and drops lower into the cushion. Without moving my head, I catch the title of one of the many reality shows Zeno warned me about.
“Were you planning on eating if I didn’t bring you food? You got into the building, which means you have ID.”
“Thanks to your brother. I wasn’t very hungry, so nyet, probably not.” The pizza was damn tasty, though. Italy for the win. “Do my eating habits matter? If I starve to death, you’re free.”
She snorts before full-on laughing, the chime reminding me of that night in my room. It’s a sound I could have benefitted from when I was a teenager locked up in prison. It would have made everything a bit sweeter. “Nah. Zeno would stick someone else here, and they wouldn’t be as fun as you.”
“Fun,” I repeat, dissecting the word. When was the last time anyone called me fun?
Fuck, when was the last time I even had fun?
“Zeno mentioned you love these shows.” I jerk my chin towards the TV, changing the topic.
“They’re stupid, so I can’t figure out what about them would intrigue you so much. ”
She draws her knees up to her chest, her glare heavy and hot on the side of my face. “Have you ever watched one?”
“No.”
“Then how would you know?”
For that, I have no answer. While the show starts, I return to my tasks while attempting to tune out the sounds of people acting dramatic for no apparent reason and fake falling in love. It’s highly unbelievable that two people would fall for one another in the span of a forty-minute episode.
About halfway through the show, my peripheral vision catches her unlocking her phone, a text on the screen.
With my height, I’m able to subtly readjust my position, feigning shifting the computer, and peek at the name.
She has it unfortunately labelled with a red heart emoji.
Not very telling, but it does suggest it’s her boyfriend, which is a start.
Her nails tapping on the screen combined with the damn show should be everything that blows my brain up—perhaps literally. It’s pure and utter noise that stokes the fire in my mind until exploding is my only way forward.
But it doesn’t. It’s…calming. Someone texting has never been calming.
What the fuck is it with this woman?
When she huffs, I peek toward the screen again, squinting to barely make out some of the words: hang out and tomorrow.
Perfect. If she’s making plans to meet up with this guy, I might be able to get what Zeno needs and move on.
Her conversation doesn’t last very long before she’s refocusing on the show.
Every stupid thing has her reacting in some way or the other, and before long, I’m paying her more attention than my tasks.
Her tiny gasps, her legs shuffling, and the bite to her bottom lip—it’s all more distracting than it should be.
Before my thoughts go wayward, I watch the on-screen couple start making out. A few shared words, and then the episode ends.
Serafina switches it off and stands, stretching, and I avert my eyes from where her top pulls tight across her breasts. “I’m heading to bed. Night.”
I nod, keeping my gaze down until she walks away.
Unable to sleep, I remain awake for a while. The dorms are too noisy and too quiet at the same time. People thump above, but the lack of white noise makes sleep even more difficult to come by.
It’s two in the morning by the time I go to my room, her vanilla and peach scent somehow making its way through my door, tainting my room. With a groan, I fall against the door and rub my face.
Her date better go well, because I need to get the fuck out of here for my own sanity.