12
I let the coffee fall into the cup while I search for a plate to put a couple of rice crackers on.
Jas got the tall genes, so in my case I have to stand on tiptoes.
The sound of some shoes hitting the floor catches my attention, and I forget about the plate, which falls at my feet and shatters into pieces.
I curse as I bend down to pick up the larger pieces of glass with my hands.
“Don’t.”
A harsh voice echoes throughout the kitchen. I raise my head, not noticing that one shard has grazed my fingertips. Far from focusing on the little red dot that appears, I notice a pair of military boots in my field of vision. Hell, no. Not again.
“You’ve cut yourself,” he murmurs when I get up, fixing his eyes on the drop of blood on my finger.
“And?” I spit out rudely. One, two, three, and a quarter seconds pass in which he hasn’t taken his eyes off my face, their blue accentuated by a gleam.
“Ty ochen’ krasivaya,” he murmurs in an even lower voice than before, his gaze still lost in my face. Then he takes my hand and brings my stained finger to his lips.
“What…” My cheeks burn. I forget what I was going to say as the warmth and moisture of his tongue clean the speck of blood. Worse still is when he lets out a hoarse, satisfied groan before letting go of my hand and speaking to himself in an inaudible murmur.
“Kak ya lyublyu tvoyu krov’.” His eyes haven’t left mine for a moment. The words that come out of his lips, despite being foreign to me, send a shiver down my spine.
“I don’t understand. What do you want?” I murmur, frowning. The heat of my body remains there as I keep remembering his tongue on my skin, even if it was only for a second.
“I want to talk to you,” he replies, now fixing his gaze on my chest.
Shameless pig. As if I hadn’t done that to his body a thousand times, seeing him as just another piece of meat. But whatever.
“I don’t have time,” I repeat what he said to me that day. He bites his inner lip and his cheeks blush slightly. Does he actually have blood in his veins? Does he blush? Well, that’s new.
“I’m really sorry about that day. I…” He stops talking, noticing my finger, which has started bleeding again. “I can’t concentrate like this,” he then speaks to himself.
I look at him as if he had grown another eye when he comes out of the kitchen without warning. Shortly after, he returns with a band-aid and cotton wool soaked with iodine.
“It’s just a tiny cut,” I reply, letting him clean the spot with the cotton ball before placing the band-aid around my finger.
I blink, trying to clear my head of memories that don’t feel like mine and only confuse me more. Then why is he acting like this now?
“I’ve been acting like an idiot with you these past few days, and I want to apologize.” His hands are still holding mine. His blue eyes now have an intense gaze, but what makes my eyes almost pop out of my head is his… is he apologizing to me?
“I’m going through something and I’m taking it out on you.
I don’t dislike you. Quite the contrary.
” No matter how hard I try to be indifferent, I can’t.
The way he speaks gives more truth to his words, making my curiosity about what exactly is troubling him grow.
Besides, if he dared to tell me and apologize, it must be something important.
And part of me is glad to know that the reason for his rude attitude isn’t because he dislikes me, but because of something external to me.
It’s always good to make friends. Other than that, I have no interest in not being disliked by him. None.
“It’s okay. And I’m sorry you’re having a hard time. I hope I can be of help to you at some point.” He lets go of my hand, looking at me again as if I were an endangered species. I feel the heavy air around me. My hands tingle without really knowing why.
“I’d like us to start over. As friends,” he adds with a grimace that quickly changes to a strange smile. “If you want.”
“I’d love to,” I reply, more cheerfully than usual. As I said, I like making new friends.
The smile he gives me makes my legs tremble, so I have no choice but to lean on the counter to keep from falling. Neither of us knows what to do or what to say. We just stare at each other in dead silence.
“And may I ask why you’re having a hard time?” I murmur, pressing my hands against the cold marble.
“Let’s just say I’m having a hard time adjusting to all this.”
“Do you miss Moscow?” I ask.
I kind of understand. I had a hard time adjusting after leaving Toronto to live in different places.
According to my father, it was for our safety.
And I didn’t complain. I would have been just as paranoid after what happened, but sometimes I felt out of place even in our permanent home.
Not to mention the limited social life I had had due to changing schools and universities so often.
Grace is the only friend I have left from my childhood.
“No, it’s just that there are things I didn’t expect to find when I came here…”
“What things?” I ask in a low whisper, but get no answer.
He tries to kiss me, so I lean back. But it’s too late. He grabs my neck, pulls me in, and kisses me softly. My eyes open wider than normal, and the irregular beats beneath my chest scare me because of how fast they are going.
In less than a second, he moves his mouth around mine with overwhelming desperation. His grip on my hand is firm but not painful. His kiss burns with a desperate hunger. I don’t take long to do the same, wrapping my arms around his neck somewhat clumsily. It’s a hungry kiss of pure desire and lust.
When a guttural moan escapes his lips, I slip my tongue inside, caressing his entire mouth with my hands holding his neck to deepen the kiss even further. That’s not enough. I want much more.
“Le… Holy balls!” The moment I hear my brother, I pull away in the blink of an eye, ending up closer to the door than to him. “I’d better go.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see him trying to get closer again. Before he can make another move, I’m already running to my bedroom, my cheeks burning red.
Normally, my mind loves the idea of having him there all day, but after this morning, it’s much worse. I just hope the next kiss isn’t in ten years, because if it is, I’d rather die. As I walk down the stairs on my way out, I find my father talking heatedly with another man with dark skin.
“I don’t like him that way anymore. I’m already over him,” Jason scoffs behind my back, repeating the same thing I told him yesterday.
“I don’t know what you saw, but it’s not what you think.”
“Don’t worry, I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Just how he stuck his tongue down your throat. Normal things that guests do with their hosts, I guess.”
“We were just talking.”
“Oh, sure. Let me go talk to Romina like that next time she pays us a visit.”
“What’s wrong with you now? Again bickering?” The weary voice of my father makes me shut my mouth immediately.
“Nothing,” I murmur, forcing a smile. “Oh, I almost forgot. I’m meeting Romina and a friend this afternoon.” My father looks at me, raising his eyebrows. Bad sign.
“What friend?”
“One from college.”
“As your father, I know what I’m about to say will sound a little irresponsible, but…
” he opens his lips, searching for the right words.
“It’s not good for us if you hang out with people who don’t belong to our world.
It would cause us problems. And believe me, we already have enough,” I blink, analyzing what he just said. I expected anything but that.
It’s true that most of my friends belong to the same world as me, because I happen to study at schools that not everyone can afford. As in Grace’s case. And because of the mafia parties I sometimes go to behind my parents’ backs, but this is new.
“You want me to hang out with other drug dealers?” I ask, more in disbelief than in question. “If you want, I can also team up with hitmen. Although that’s almost the same as being a drug dealer, isn’t it?” I say with bitter irony under his gaze.
“Do you have any idea what would happen if you talked to someone you shouldn’t? I just want you to be careful who you hang out with. That’s all,” I don’t dare look him in the eye as I nod my head.
My good mood vanishes instantly. That oppressive feeling of being trapped in a cage threatens to ruin the rest of my day, and it won’t be the only time this week.
I’m in the middle of the mall waiting for Romina to come out of the bathroom.
My feet move toward the shop windows nearby, driven by my impatience.
One window catches my attention, although it’s not very difficult.
All it takes is something black or some bag.
I’m so distracted by the black dress on the mannequin that I almost bump into someone.
“Sorry,” I murmur, picking up the bags of the person I bumped into. I didn’t see—”
“Lena?” I look up and stare into those brown eyes that I know all too well.
“Oh. Hi.” My voice changes to a drier tone.
“What are you doing here?”
“Shopping, like almost everyone else who comes here.”
“Yeah. What a stupid question.” He bites his lower lip, his cheeks blushing shyly.
“See you later.”
“No, wait!” I turn my head, motioning for him to speak. “We can go for a drink. Or dinner.” I try hard to hide the grimace on my lips. What do I have to do to get rid of him? He’s like a limpet.
“I can’t. I’m waiting for someone.”
Romina, just get out already, I’m begging you.
“Fine. We can wait together then.”
“Fine,” I mutter under my breath. Anything to get him to shut up. I know he’ll follow me around until I agree if I say no.
“How’s your day going?”
“Could be much better,” I reply, looking at the plant in the room, not hiding my disinterest.
“Listen. I’d really like us to talk about what happened that time.” I let out an exhausted sigh before looking at him and speaking.
“Liam, I already told you I don’t want to talk about it. I couldn’t care less about what happened to you with that girl. Just let it go.”