Preston
"Your guys are fast," I say, throwing myself down on my bed.
Vadim just called, and I've got him on speaker phone. I'm in my old bedroom, surrounded by wall-mounted evidence of my hardcore middle school Lana and Halsey phase.
"It's important they were installed," Vadim replies, sounding like it's no big deal that a team of four came today and wired up cameras at the front door, the back entrance, the garage, and on every ground floor window in the house.
"Well, Mom and Dad are very grateful."
"They are?"
"Yeah. They're still rattled by everything that's been happening, so Mom loves you even more now because you're being so considerate and…"
Do I say it? Do I say it? I'm saying it.
"Protective of me."
A heavy silence hangs down the line.
Vadim exhales sharply through his nose then says, "Tell them it's no problem and that I really appreciate them agreeing."
I roll my eyes even though he can't see. "I will."
"So…"
"So?"
"I don't want to take up any more of your time."
"Oh, gee, thanks. Yeah, my diary is jam-packed.
I went thrifting with Mom today and hung out with Dad and his freaking iPad this afternoon.
Did you know there's a feature that lets you run up to eight apps simultaneously in overlapping windows?
And that's just one of the many fascinating things I learned.
So, yeah, life is crazy busy here in good ol' Alum Rock. "
There's a lull in the conversation that I choose to believe is because Vadim is chuckling silently in his head at my weak attempt at humor.
When did I start making crappy jokes? Only since I started hanging out with him. Hmm. Maybe his lousy humor is rubbing off on me?
I clear my throat. "Unless you don't want to talk to me?"
He clears his throat. "It's not that…"
With a frustrated groan, I disconnect the call, open Signal, which Vadim made me download before I left, and hit the video call button.
His face fills my screen a moment later. He's at his desk in the control room, the blue-gray glow of the monitors behind him, wearing what else but a black collared shirt.
"Did you hang up on me?" is the first thing he says.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because I've started cracking really bad jokes, which I blame entirely on you, so if I'm going down this unfortunate path, then I at least want to see your reaction when I make them."
He slow blinks.
"One, bad humor is not transferable, and two, my jokes aren't that bad."
"Well, I don't remember making stupid jokes before I met you."
There's a knock on my door.
"Honey, are you decent?"
"I'm on the phone to Vadim," I yell out.
"That's why I'm asking if you're decent."
At that, Vadim chuckles.
I shake my head, my cheeks warming, ruing my decision to turn this into a video call.
"Hang on a sec," I say to him.
"Sure thing…honey."
I glare at him for a moment then cut the camera and mic, tuck the phone into my pocket, and go answer the door.
"Just wanted to see if you want chicken or beef pasta bake for dinner tonight, honey."
"Either or. I'm easy."
Mom rocks on her heels. "So…what is Vadim doing?"
"He's at work. Now go!" I shuffle her down the hallway. "And stay away. You're impeding my coolness."
"Oh, Pres." She spins around and slides her hand down the side of my face. "You stopped being cool the moment you got over Lana Del Rey."
"Mom!"
I shut the door and shake my head, shocked that I just got shaded by my own mother.
"Everything okay?" Vadim asks when I fish out my phone and turn on the camera again.
"Fine."
"So…you liked Lana Del Rey?"
"You heard that?"
"I did." He grins. "You must've double-tapped the mute button because it went on then switched back off."
"Why didn't you say anything?"
"Because I thought I might overhear something interesting."
"Like what?"
"I don't know. Like your middle name."
"You think I bring up the single most embarrassing thing about myself on a regular basis with my mom?"
He licks his lips. "You never know."
"Keep dreaming." I lie down on the bed and get comfortable. Then, when I notice this particular angle adds about five extra chins, I prop myself up and lift the phone well above my head for a more flattering angle. "So, how's your day?"
"Fine."
"Anything interesting happen?"
"Not really."
"Got any plans for tonight?"
"I'll hit the gym when I get back home, order some takeout, then watch a game."
"Who's playing?"
He rattles off two teams I've never heard of then smirks into the camera. "Heard of them?"
I smirk right back at him. "I think we both know the answer to that."
A shadow falls over his face. "Hang on a sec, Pres."
Unlike me, he knows how to turn off both the camera and the microphone. A few seconds later, he reappears.
"Everything okay?" I ask.
"Yeah. Just…work stuff."
"Do you have to go?"
"It can wait."
"Does that mean you want to keep talking to me?"
His dark-gray eyes stare down the camera with such intensity that it makes me forget there's a screen between us.
"Yes."
I can't help but smile victoriously because it does feel like a mini win. Despite the physical distance separating us, and his recent off and on-ness, and the fact he self-identifies as emotionless, Vadim is choosing to spend time with me.
We chat for about twenty minutes until Mom calls out that dinner is ready.
"I have to go."
Vadim nods. "Have a good rest of your evening."
"You, too. Oh, hey?"
"Yeah."
"I realize you're getting intel fed to you, and now you have cameras so you can see everything that's going on around here, but, is there any chance you could call me tomorrow? You know, to help keep up the fake boyfriend ruse."
"Right." He rakes a hand through his hair, and I smile at the mess it creates. "I have a hairdresser appointment tomorrow at about this time. What?"
"What?"
"You just made a noise."
"Did I?"
"Yeah."
"When?"
"When I mentioned going to the hairdresser."
"What sort of noise?"
He replicates the sound, and shit, it slipped out without me realizing. He stares at me for a long beat then runs his fingers through his hair again, leaving it beautifully wrecked in their wake.
"You prefer my hair like this, don't you?"
I lift a shoulder. "Maybe."
"You like it a bit longer, too?"
"Maybe."
He rolls his eyes.
"I'm taking both maybes as a yes. Would you like me to cancel my hairdresser appointment?"
"Maybe."
"Preston Miller."
I close my eyes as a shiver rolls through me at the way he said my name, sounding so…dominant.
"Okay, yes," I breathe. "If you want to."
He stares at me for a beat. "Fine. I'll cancel it."
"You will?"
"Yes."
"For me?" I ask stupidly because my brain has clearly checked out.
Who else, dumbass?
His dark eyes glimmer as he takes me in. "Yes, for you."
"Why?"
He looks away for a moment before finding me with his eyes again. "Because, Preston undisclosed-middle-name Miller, you have a way of making me do things I would normally never do."
I let out a laugh, partly out of surprise, but mainly out of happiness. "Like pretending to be my date because I randomly accosted you in a bar and offered you a couple of hundred bucks?"
A low chuckle rumbles out of him. "Precisely."
"Preston, dinner!"
"I have to go," I say, getting up. "Same time tomorrow?"
"Yeah." Vadim bobs his head slowly up and down. "Same time tomorrow."