2 #2
I let go of the blades clutched in my hand and pat the cool ground with my palm, as if that might somehow help the lawn grow back. Stretching my legs out, I try to relax, but the truth is, I’ve got no idea what I’m doing here.
And no idea how to talk to him.
Or even how to look at him.
And most of all, I haven’t got a clue what we’re going to present to Mr. Abrams in forty minutes.
I try once again to make myself comfortable. Leaning on one elbow, I nearly fall backwards, so I give up and sit back up, then cross my legs and start playing with my shoelaces.
“Your hand is at it again. You never stop fidgeting, do you?” Vadim teases gently. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, I told you!”
“Yes, there is. You’re tense, distracted. I don’t like it. I’m worried you’re going to start crying and I’ll have to comfort you.”
I don’t know if he’s joking or not, and the look we exchange lasts far too long.
“I have a boyfriend, you know. Timothy.”
“I know. Tim Wallace, captain of the basketball team. It’s crazy how someone can be so tall and yet so insignificant. But you two go very well together.”
That damn smirk reappears.
“You’re right, he is tall. At least a head taller than you. And he wouldn’t be on the varsity team if he was as dumb as you claim. But you and your stereotypes go very well together.”
Tim and I met through our families before the start of the school year.
Our fathers used to work together, and my mother is never one to miss an opportunity to host a dinner party.
It was also a way to introduce me to another student who could help me fit in, but Tim happened to be good-looking as well.
Healthy, athletic, and muscular, with the right kind of upbringing.
My overprotective brother probably also thought that a six-foot-six boyfriend would be ideal to defend me if needed. Or at least keep a close eye on me.
After two family get-togethers, one at our place, the other at the Wallaces’ place, Tim showed me around the deserted campus in August, with Clémentine tagging along.
Then he officially asked me out, just the two of us.
After a movie and a drive, he dropped me off at my house and kissed me for the first time.
That was the fourth date, so he’d pretty much followed dating protocol.
The truth is, Clémentine found Tim more attractive than I did, but she didn’t admit it until afterward. She managed to get over it quickly.
I think I like him. He’s a nice guy: considerate, cheerful, very popular on campus, with lots of friends.
For a little over a month now, we’ve been enjoying spending time together.
Whenever I’m cold, he lends me his letterman jacket, which is way too big for me.
And he makes me laugh. He kisses pretty well, too.
Nothing much else to say for the moment. I don’t want to fall in love. This casual romance without any deep emotional connection suits me fine. I don’t have Clémentine’s passionate temperament, and I want to focus on my studies. Succeed. Make a future for myself.
That just goes to show, the Lancaster brainwashing has worked well on me.
“So, what should our film be about?” my partner asks impatiently.
Vadim stares at me, bringing his pen to his lips.
I come back down to earth.
“A top athlete who gets injured in a stupid accident the day before a final?” he quips. “He has to have an amputation, his life is ruined, he gets into drugs and ends up a total loser because he doesn’t know how to do anything other than play ball?”
“Hilarious. What about a pseudo-artist who thinks wearing a leather jacket and skipping class makes him a tough guy, but who whines like a baby when he doesn’t get the partner he wants?”
I look down my nose at him, and he laughs softly.
“Not bad, but I’ve got something better!
A young woman who lives in a gilded cage.
They want to force her into marriage, but she falls madly in love with her handsome professor, twenty years her senior, who ends up dumping her the day she gets disinherited,” Vadim says, clearly pleased with himself.
“How about a misanthropic type who finds himself paying ten women alimony before he’s even twenty, after he knocks up all the girls who agreed to snuggle up to him because he felt lonely at night?”
My adversary raises an eyebrow. “You’re getting into something you have no clue about, Lancaster.”
His deep voice stirs something inside me. I’m discovering how much I like provoking him.
“And you’re spouting bullshit, Arcadi. We still haven’t found a topic.”
“Hey, Alma! What are you doing out here?” Tim’s voice interrupts our conversation.
I get up to kiss him, then greet his friends who are clustered around him.
He drapes his arm over my shoulders and continues questioning me, his eyes fixed on Vadim, who is still sitting on the grass. “Don’t you have class?”
“Yes, we’ve got to go back in half an hour. We were trying to find a topic for our first-semester project.”
“Don’t they give you a classroom in film studies?” Tim jokes, playing to his audience.
“You know that students are free citizens who can roam around this beautiful country as they please, right?” Vadim shoots back with a forced smile.
“Arcadi, Arcadi… now that doesn’t sound very American, does it? I reckon it must be much nicer here than in Poland.”
“Tim!”
“I’m of Russian descent,” Vadim corrects him. “And I was born in the United States. But it’s nice of you to care, Wallace.”
Everyone calls each other by their last names here, even friends. I’ve mostly stopped taking offense at it. But the tone these two are using with each other is far from friendly. At best, it’s contemptuous, at worst lethal. I sense danger.
Ignoring Vadim’s last remark, Tim tightens his grip around me. “Well, if you don’t have anything to do for the next half hour, I was going to grab a bite with the guys. Do you want to come?”
“I’d love to, but I don’t know if I have time.”
“We need to work, Alma,” Vadim reminds me.
“Do you mind? I was talking to my girlfriend,” Tim hisses, growing increasingly irritated.
“Your girlfriend just told you she didn’t have time.”
“Don’t you dare speak for her, Arcadi.”
“I’m just repeating what you seem to have trouble understanding.”
“How about my fist in your face? Do you think you’ll understand that?”
“Tim!”
My head swings back and forth between them, as if watching a tennis match in fast-forward.
With his usual nonchalance, Vadim gets up, picks up his bag and runs a hand through his hair, dislodging a blade of grass.
“Forget it, Lancaster. If you need a bodyguard and you don’t want to put time into this, we can each work on our own.
You can tell Abrams that all the ideas were yours.
Or that you want to change partners. I really don’t care. ”