11. Katya
Katya
"You're being ridiculous," Lacey says, sprawled across my bed while I pace the small length of my bedroom. "It's just dinner. You guys go to dinner all the time." She sighs. "A boring amount, actually."
"It's not just dinner," I correct, stopping to check my reflection in the mirror for the fifth time.
The navy dress I'm wearing is simple but elegant, borrowed again from Lacey's endless closet, of course.
"He's making me dinner…" I take a shaky breath.
I feel a mixture of clarity and incredible nervousness.
"Maybe he wants to show you his art collection," she snickers. "Rich men love showing off their art collections."
I snort. "Sure." I smooth down the dress nervously. "That's why he specifically invited me to his house. A place I've never been."
Lacey rolls her eyes. "My point is that you are being a bit dramatic."
"Dramatic?"
"I mean, you like him, right?"
I nod.
"Then, so what if he wants to fuck? You're a grown woman," she says, as though I need a reminder.
She exhales slightly. "Is this because you're a virgin?" Her tone is kind, but I can hear an undercurrent of something.
My face heats up. I've been thinking about nothing else but Artem since we met, but it's been more prevalent since the night he touched me. My body still punches with heat as I think about the way his large hands felt on my skin.
"I don't think sex is a big deal," I remind her. "You know that."
"I do."
"I've just never found a guy I was interested enough in to take that step with."
Lacey nods. I know she doesn't believe me.
She and Nico have teased me about being a virgin for years, and what wasn't a big deal in my life now feels like a boulder.
Artem and I have done other things, and I've liked them.
He's made me come with his tongue and fingers, and I can only imagine what it'll feel like when he's inside me.
And yet, I wonder if I'll be shitty at it. Will this ruin this thing that we have? Will it be too much?
I'm ready. I want this, and yet it feels like this moment lives in a pressure cooker.
To top it off, there's more going on in my life to spike my anxiety than Artem.
"My grandfather is in town," I tell Lacey.
This makes her sit up. "Your grandfather? Your dad's dad?"
"The same one." I take a deep breath. I love my grandfather, but we have a contentious relationship, especially since he basically cut me off from the family when I refused to return to Russia when I turned eighteen.
I knew what my return meant—marriage to some associate.
And I wanted absolutely no part in it. Not just because of dance, but because I want zero to do with his lifestyle.
"He called this morning and wants to have dinner tomorrow.
" I rub my arms slightly. "Apparently, he wants to discuss some things. "
I know the things. They lead to fights and yelling and overall stress.
"Okay, and that's stressing you out because of Artem?"
I laugh slightly. "Partially," I admit. "My grandfather is protective, but he won't be here long, so I'm sure we can avoid him. I'm more worried about what he wants." Because my grandfather does nothing, including flying halfway around the world, for no reason.
Lacey sighs. "Families suck."
I laugh, but there's no humor in it. I barely have any family left, and yet they are still somehow a pain in the ass.
She studies my face. "Is that why you never talk about them? Your family? Because it's complicated?"
"I don't not talk about them."
"Katya, I've known you for years, and your family has come to the city maybe three times. I know more about Luc's family than I do yours, and I barely know him."
I sit on the edge of the bed, suddenly exhausted. "Helps that Luc's family lives in New York."
She purses her lips. I know she's frustrated that I never divulge more details. She knows my family is powerful in Russia, but she doesn't know the specifics, and I'd like to keep it that way.
It doesn't matter. My family, what's left of it anyway, and I are not the same.
I love them. I tolerate them. That's it.
"Speaking of," she trails off, "how is Luc?"
The change of subject catches me off guard. "Luc?"
"Have you talked to him since the theater?"
"No."
"He called Nico to see if you were okay."
"I know." I release a heavy sigh. "Nico told me."
"Are you going to call him back?"
I shake my head. "He made his position clear. I made mine clear. There's nothing left to discuss."
Lacey sighs. "He's been your best friend for seven years, Kat. That has to count for something."
"It does count, but not enough to make me love him the way he wants me to.
" I'm trying not to cry. Talking about Luc makes me feel as though my world is spinning off its axis.
"I think maybe he and I need some time apart.
He's been back in the city for less than a year, and he seems to think that means I'm his. "
Lacey nods. "Have you ever considered?—"
I shake my head. "No," I say honestly. "I've never seen Luc in that way, and honestly, I don't think he sees me that way either."
"No?" She seems skeptical. It's how everyone seems until they dig deeper.
Because here's the thing—Luc doesn't love me because he doesn't even love himself.
He thinks he does, but he doesn't. He's always searching for the next thing.
And if he had me, he'd realize that. It would ruin our friendship, so instead, I have to be the bad guy.
I look in the mirror, pressing a bit of gloss on my lips. "It's the truth, and Luc knows it, which is why he spins out when I push him away. He's looking for something outside his family that's his." I turn toward her. "I'm not it."
Lacey nods, but her eyes narrow slightly as she examines me. "You like Artem, don't you?"
I feel heat rise in my cheeks. "Of course I like him," I tell her. "He's been..." I sigh. "Amazing. Almost too good to be true."
Lacey grins. "So you're going to sleep with him tonight?" There's a teasing lilt to her voice.
I stop pacing and look at her seriously. "I want to."
"Okay." She takes a deep breath. "How do you feel about it?"
"Seriously?" I ask. I want to talk about this with her, but I don't want to be teased again. I'm already on edge.
She nods solemnly. "Yes."
"Terrified. Excited. Like I might throw up." I wring my hands. "It's not like I'm a complete virgin. We've done..." I shiver as I think about the rough texture of his stubble on my thighs. "Other things."
Lacey squeals and hits me lightly with the edge of a discarded dress. "You little slut!"
I roll my eyes and play with my hair again. I left it down in long waves, and I am wondering if Artem would prefer it up.
"Hey," she reaches over and takes my hands. "Do you love him?"
Do I? I think about the way he listens when I talk, the way he makes me feel seen and understood and important. I think about his hands on my skin, the way he kissed me like I was something precious, the way he pulled back when he could have taken more.
"I think I could," I say quietly. "I think I'm falling in love with him."
"And you trust him?"
"Yes."
She smiles.
"I'm nervous though," I admit. "What if I'm not ready? Or not good?"
"Then you'll figure that out, and you'll stop. But from what you've told me, he's been nothing but patient and respectful. If you can't trust him with this, who can you trust?"
I nod, feeling some of the anxiety ease. "You're right."
"I usually am." She grins. "Now, did you do something about the practical stuff?"
"The practical stuff?"
"Birth control, Katya. Please tell me you've thought about birth control."
My face flames. "I'm on the shot. Have been for years, for my cycle."
"Good. And please tell me you have condoms."
"I..." I hadn't thought about condoms.
Lacey sighs dramatically and digs through her purse, pulling out a small foil package. "Here. Just in case."
I stare at it. "You carry condoms?"
"I don't leave anything to men." She presses it into my hand. "Listen to me. You don't have to use this tonight. You don't have to do anything you don't want to do. But if you decide you're ready, be smart about it."
I slip the condom into my clutch, feeling like I'm carrying some kind of talisman.
"What if it hurts?"
"It probably will, a little. But if he's as considerate as you say, he'll make sure you're ready and he'll go slow. The first time is about trust and communication, not performance."
I check the time. "I should go. He's picking me up in twenty minutes."
"Okay." She stands and hugs me tightly. "Whatever happens tonight, I love you, and I'm proud of you for taking this step."
"Even if it's terrifying?"
"Especially because it's terrifying. The best things in life usually are."
Artem's building is everything I expected—glass and steel and understated wealth in the heart of Manhattan. The doorman knows him by name, the elevator requires a key card, and by the time we reach the forty-second floor, I feel as though I am in a completely different New York.
"This is me," he says, opening the door to his penthouse.
The space is breathtaking—floor-to-ceiling windows with views of the entire city, modern furniture, and art that belongs in museums. It's beautiful and cold and somehow completely impersonal.
"Wow," I breathe, walking toward the windows. "This is incredible."
"I'm glad you like it." He comes up behind me, close enough that I can feel his warmth. "Would you like some wine? It's non-alcoholic."
I smile at his thoughtfulness. "Please."
He disappears into what I assume is the kitchen, and I wander through the living space, looking for something, anything, that tells me who he really is. But there are no family photos, no personal mementos, no books or magazines or any of the small things that usually make a space feel lived-in.
It's beautiful, but it feels like a hotel. I chalk it up to him having just moved in a few months ago.
"Here." He returns with two glasses of wine and notices me studying a large abstract painting. "Do you like it?"