5. Mikhail #2
“What operation?” I ask, pulling back to look at him.
“Nothing. Just forget it.”
“Want to go get ice cream?” I ask him.
He looks up at me. “What? Now?”
“Yeah. Please, I just want to hang out with you for a little longer.”
“Okay, sure.”
Grinning, I take his hand and lace my fingers with his, pulling him toward the exit. It’s already dark outside, and there’s a big line waiting to get into Ozero.
The ice cream place is across the street and still open, so we make our way over and join the line. He keeps giving me side glances, biting his lip and sighing. God, he’s being so dramatic. And for what? What did I even do?
When we reach the counter, I let go of his hand and come up behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist and resting my chin on his shoulder. “Strawberry ice cream for me,” I say to the girl behind the counter. “And a strawberry milkshake for him.”
A few minutes later, she hands us our orders, and we head over to one of the booths.
He chooses the seat across from me instead of next to me, which is weird.
He glances up at me and takes a sip of his milkshake while I scoop up some of my ice cream.
I make my way around the booth so I’m sitting next to him, and he shoots me a look, his cheeks flushing slightly again as he drinks his milkshake without saying anything.
A girl with blonde hair keeps looking over from the booth across from us. She nudges her friend with her elbow, and Daniil glances up, catches her staring at me, then shoots her a glare before turning it on me. His jaw works as he bites the inside of his lip.
“I’m sorry I made you mad.”
“You didn’t. You didn’t do anything wrong, okay?” he says and won’t look at me. “I’m being a dick. I’m just stressed or something.”
Wrapping my arms around him, I sigh into his watermelon-scented hair and ignore my ice cream since it’s not what I wanted anyway. I just wanted him to talk to me again, to stop pulling away from me like he has been.
“You know I’m here, right? For whatever you need.”
“Da, I know.” He’s quiet for a second, then asks, “How’s the planning for your club event going?”
“It’s okay. Just a lot of things to work through. Father’s riding all of us so hard right now I’m not surprised we’re all going crazy.” I pause. “You’ve been stressed too. Is it work stuff?”
He huffs. “I guess. And it’ll go great, I know it will.”
That’s not an answer, but I don’t push. My phone rings, and I ignore it since it’s probably someone from the club and I don’t want this to end yet. He starts drinking his milkshake and glances up at me before quickly looking away, his cheeks going redder when I grin at him.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing.”
“You keep looking at me weird.”
“I’m not looking at you weird.”
“You are though.” I lean closer, trying to catch his eyes. “What’s going on in your head, Danya?”
He shakes his head and takes another sip of his milkshake. “Nothing. Just tired and stressed.”
That’s bullshit, and we both know it, but I don’t know how to push without making him shut down completely. This is driving me insane.
“You’d tell me if something was wrong, right?” I ask.
He finally looks at me and something flickers across his face, something I can’t read. “Yeah. Of course.”
Another lie. I can feel it.
My phone rings again, and this time he shifts away from me, gesturing toward it. “You should probably get that.”
“I don’t care about work right now.”
He shakes his head but smiles a little. “You don’t give up, do you?”
“Nope. But you like me anyway.”
The smile fades, and he stares down at his milkshake. “I do,” he says, barely audible.
There’s something heavy in the way he says it, something that makes everything feel wrong. I don’t know what to do with it, so I just pull him closer and rest my chin on top of his head.
“But we’re okay, right?” I ask.
He hesitates for a moment too long. “Yeah. We’re good.”
I cup his chin and trace my thumb along it. His breath hitches, and his hazel eyes stare up into mine. “You’re the only reason I’m still here. You know that? Without you, I would’ve been gone a long time ago.”
His eyes go glassy, and he swallows hard, then suddenly grabs me so tightly the air leaves my lungs. I wrap my arms around him and kiss the top of his head, holding him close. We stay like that for a long time before he leans back and looks up at me.
“You’re my reason too,” he whispers. “Thank you for the ice cream.”
The grin spreads across my face, and I reach up to cup his cheek before sliding my hand to the back of his neck, rubbing there. His eyes flutter closed for a second, and when they open again, he swallows hard.
“We should get one of those ice cream machines. Make our own flavors at home.”
He shoots me a look, shifting in his seat. “You mean so we can have another kitchen disaster?”
I roll my eyes. He still won’t let go of the blender incident when I forgot to put the lock on and got the entire kitchen soaked in a green smoothie that took days to clean up. “You’d be in charge of operating it. I’d just handle the eating part.”
“That’s probably the only way it wouldn’t end in disaster.” He’s smiling, but his voice sounds a little breathless, and he won’t quite meet my eyes. “We can look into it.”
“Yeah?” I squeeze the back of his neck gently, and he goes still, his breath catching. I lean closer. “What flavor do you think we should try first?”
“I—” He pauses and licks his lips. “Whatever you want.”
He’s about to say something else when the girl finally walks over and leans into the table, making him move away from me.
She looks at me and smiles. “I was wondering if maybe—”
Before she can finish, his hand flies out and smacks straight into his milkshake. The cup tips and the entire thing launches across the table, landing dead center on her shirt. Strawberry pink spreads down her chest in a cold, sticky wave.
She gasps and stares down at herself, then snaps her gaze up to him with her mouth hanging open. “Are you kidding me right now?”
He clears his throat, and his eyes go wide and innocent, like he’s just as shocked as she is.
“What’s wrong with you?” She backs away from the table with milkshake dripping onto the floor and storms off toward the bathroom.
I turn and gape at him, trying not to laugh. He bites his lip and does this little shrug like he has no idea what just happened.
“I was grabbing my phone and accidentally spilled it,” he says, shooting me a look that dares me to call him out.
Bullshit. That was the most deliberate accident I’ve ever seen, and we both know it. The way his hand moved wasn’t a fumble, it was a calculated strike.
Rubbing the back of my head, I lose it completely and start laughing because there’s no way I can keep a straight face anymore. I slide my ice cream toward him. “Want to share? Since yours is currently soaking into that girl’s shirt.”
He nods and slides closer again until our thighs press together in the booth. Some poor worker appears with a rag and a bucket, mumbling curses under her breath as she crouches to clean up the mess spreading across the floor.
“It was an accident,” I say, fishing a fifty out of my pocket and handing it to her. “Sorry about the mess.” She takes it without a word, shaking her head as she mops up the pink puddle.
My arm comes up around his shoulders, and I settle him in against my side where he fits perfectly. I hand him my spoon and watch as he scoops ice cream into his mouth, his tongue catching a drip at the corner of his lips before he passes it back to me.
“That wasn’t an accident,” I say, taking my own bite and grinning at him.
He shoots me a look, all fake offense. “It was.”
It so wasn’t. But whatever. I didn’t want to talk to her anyway, and I’d rather be alone with him. Always would.