6
I arrive early this time. Vadim isn’t here yet. The Sunset Café has started to empty out, but I still check that there are no familiar faces around. I don’t have anything to hide, but I’d prefer for Tim not to find out about my late-night meetings with the classmate he detests.
Vadim walks through the door two minutes late with a guy about our age. They haven’t seen me, which means I have to go over to them as they sit down at a table in the back.
“Hi, I didn’t know you were bringing someone,” I blurt out, a little more aggressively than I would have liked.
“Hi, I didn’t know if you’d come.” Vadim smiles at me and gestures for me to sit down. “This is my buddy Felix Alonso. He isn’t staying.”
His friend gives me a slight nod and looks me up and down without bothering to make small talk.
He doesn’t look like he’s planning on leaving, either.
He’s on the short side, with a smooth complexion and masculine features; short, dark hair, and a close-cropped beard tracing his jawline.
His eyes are as black as Vadim’s are light.
Felix slouches in his chair, with his legs spread wide.
His beige pants are too big for him, leaving his boxers visible, and a faded tattoo peeks out from his hoodie and wraps around his neck.
If he didn’t scare me a tiny bit, I’d tell him that the toothpick stuck in the corner of his mouth makes it seem like he’s trying too hard.
“So, Fe, you taking off?”
“Yeah, I got it.”
“See you tomorrow,” Vadim reminds him.
“I’m counting on you. Bye, man.”
He saunters away.
“Doesn’t your friend speak to girls?”
“Only the ones he likes.”
Vadim watches me as I sit down across from him.
“Ah, so he can actually carry on a conversation. So sorry I didn’t pick up on that!”
“You didn’t come here to chat with him though, did you?”
No.
“Who is he, anyway?”
“Felix Alonso, I told you.”
“But who is he to you?”
“Childhood friend. My oldest buddy. One of my only ones, actually. He can be a bit rude, but he’s a good guy.”
“He seems like a bit of a cliché.”
“That gives you two something in common.”
Vadim’s smug smile stretches across his face, and I look away.
I try to move on quickly. “Why did you think I wouldn’t come?”
“Because this is two nights in a row you’ve had to come up with a lie for Daddy Lancaster. And for Timmy.”
“My dad doesn’t know you exist, and Tim doesn’t tell me what to do.”
“I’m thrilled to hear it.”
“This isn’t a date, Vadim. You said so yourself. I don’t have to ask for his permission to meet up with a friend.”
“So, just how much does he hate me?”
He seems to find the whole thing funny.
“He doesn’t care. You’ll have to find someone else to pick a fight with.”
“Too bad, I was kind of having fun with him… What do you want to drink, anyway?”
“I don’t want to stay here.”
“Oh, really? So, you like my hunk of junk now? What time do you have to be home this time?”
“Midnight.”
“Unbelievable,” Vadim mocks.
“Stop it. Where are we going?”
“Well, that gives us time to go see the ocean. Santa Monica? Is that fancy enough for you?”
“You, me, your pickup truck, Route 66: sounds like a very lame movie.”
“That’s why I suggested it. So, are you ready to go?”
He smiles.
I smile.
As the night falls, it carries us away, wrapping itself around us.
We don’t say a word during the twenty-minute drive to Santa Monica Bay.
The silence is filled with music sputtering from the radio.
I think it’s hit me that this harmless ride isn’t so harmless after all—that I’m crossing new boundaries with every mile that we cover.
Still, I wonder if Vadim is thinking about something else entirely.
At every red light, his gaze drifts off into the distance, and I sometimes have to tell him, “Green!” so he remembers to start driving again.
He drives with his left elbow resting on the window frame and his hand alternately ruffling, then smoothing his wavy hair.
I try not to focus on how good-looking he is, but I feel like I rediscover it every time I look at him.
I’ve never seen such long eyelashes on a guy, such perfectly shaped lips on such a masculine face.
There’s a kind of perfection hidden in all his imperfections.
Once the car is parked, we walk to the pier overlooking the beach, and beyond it, the ocean. A few people are still out—mostly couples strolling along the wide, wooden boardwalk. We make a brief stop to order two sodas. Vadim adds a bag of Skittles and pays for it all.
Night has now fully fallen, and the fishermen have deserted the far end of the pier where they usually set up.
We lean side by side against the worn railing, brushing against each other, still not speaking.
The fluorescent lights of the Ferris wheel reflect in the water, and the view of the Pacific Ocean takes my breath way.
Or maybe I just find it hard to breathe with Vadim beside me.
The sea breeze makes me shiver. I regret not taking that damn sweater.
Vadim tosses a candy into his mouth before offering me the packet. Then, he finally breaks the silence. “Did you know this is where they shot some scenes for Titanic? And Forrest Gump, too. When he buys a shrimping boat with his war buddy… You know, that guy who’s a bit slow.”
“Bubba. I love that movie.”
“Have you seen it more times than Titanic?” Vadim smiles.
“Only once, both of them. I guess you’ve seen them, too.”
“You might be surprised to hear it, but I don’t think those films are lame.”
“Arcadi, what’s gotten into you?! You actually like things now?”
“I like the ocean. I like simple-minded people; I envy them. And I love Skittles!”
I slip my fingers into the bag of candy he’s holding out, but I can’t seem to grab a single one.
I suspect Vadim is clenching his fist to stop me.
He watches me struggle as I watch him tease me, and then disaster strikes.
I shove my hand into his through the wrapper.
He lets go, and the colorful candies fly in every direction before falling into the water. It’s almost beautiful.
“You let go!” I cry out.
“You made me drop them!”
“That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”
“At least I got to eat one.”
The insolent asshole watches me, an infuriatingly charming smile plastered across his face. I console myself by taking a few sips of my drink.
“Are you okay with a straw, or do you want me to hold your cup?”
“I don’t know what’s keeping me from throwing it in your face.”
“I don’t know either. Do you dare?” he says challengingly.
I hesitate for a split second. A split second too long.
“So, Tom Hanks or Leonardo DiCaprio?”
“Hanks. I don’t even need to think about it,” I mutter.
“He’s at least sixty years old!”
“At least he doesn’t hook up with girls half his age. And you didn’t specify in what sense.”
“Well, you’d hook up with Abrams, so that makes sense!”
“Also no. But apparently if you’re not a hundred percent devoted to Vadim Arcadi, it means you want to hook up with the entire world!”
“Oh, so you want to hook up with Vadim Arcadi, too?” He widens his beautiful eyes, feigning innocence.
“Not in a million years!”
“So, would you rather die or sleep with Abrams?”
“Die… No, actually I’ll take Abrams; it can’t be that bad.”
“You’re surprisingly open-minded. Die or marry Timothy Wallace?”
“Ha! Die or date Hannah Goldberg?”
“Kill me right now!” He tugs on his gray sweater, exposing the bare skin over his heart.
“Clémentine D’Aragon or Nicki Scott?”
I do my best to tear my eyes away from his torso, where I can make out the shape of his muscles.
“Nicki for a night, Clémentine for life. But I’d still rather die.”
We go on like this for part of the evening, making impossible choices between the plague and cholera, targeting each other’s weak spots, talking endlessly about relationships, friendship, sex in all its forms, and occasionally drifting into movies when the conversation ventures into risky territory.
Despite our differences, we find common ground, agreeing that Gattaca is last century’s masterpiece.
I can’t believe he finds The Green Mile average, The Bridges of Madison County terrible, and Dances with Wolves trite—“Movies made solely to make you cry,” he claims.
“Well, it’s a terrible cliché, but since your teeth are chattering, I’m going to lend you my jacket.”
“I’d rather die!”
“Come on, I’d really love to see Alma Lancaster in a leather jacket, just once.”
His gaze challenges me again, but I’m saved the bell as my cell phone rings. I fumble for it at the bottom of my bag, my hands numb from the cold, and answer just in time.
“Alma, it’s twenty past midnight! I hope you’re on your way.”
“Yes, Dad, I was just about to call you.”
I feel a surge of panic.
I cover the receiver with my hand to warn Vadim that it’s my dad.
He glances quickly at his watch and slaps his forehead in an exaggerated gesture.
Then he whispers to me, “Stay,” while my brain lights up, firing on all cylinders, whirring at top speed.
Vadim continues his whispering, louder and louder, planting himself in front of me, and challenges me again with his persistent refrain: “Stay, stay, stay, stay…”
“Alma, are you there? Is everything okay?”
“Yes! Well… no. Clémentine felt a little faint leaving the movie theater. But she’s fine now. I walked her back, and…”
Vadim starts a victory dance, whistling and hopping around me. I silence him by pressing my hand over his mouth. He freezes, hands in the air. I feel his warm lips against my palm.
“Is that her I hear in the background? Has she seen a doctor? Do you need me to come over?”
“No, no, it’s… you know… a girl thing.”
“Ah, I see.”
“If it’s okay with you, I’m going to stay with her. She can lend me what I need for tomorrow. I don’t feel too good about leaving her alone…”
“Alma, I know how important Clémentine is to you, but this isn’t what we agreed.”
“A heavy period wasn’t something that was planned for tonight either… Dad, I’m in her dorm room on campus. I’m perfectly safe. I’m spending the night with my best friend like I’ve done a thousand times. That’s all.”
My dad hesitates, and I hear myself lying to him as if I’ve been doing it my whole life.
“Call me anytime if there’s a problem. And tomorrow morning, first thing, to let me know that everything is okay.”
“I promise! Goodnight, Dad.”
I hang up and slowly pull my hand away from Vadim’s mouth. He still hasn’t moved an inch.
My heart feels like it’s trying to burst out of my chest. I don’t know if it’s my lie… or the truth that I refuse to face. If it’s what I’ve just pulled off… or everything it implies. Or maybe just this first physical contact with Vadim.
“A professional liar, on top of everything else,” he quips as he takes a step back. “You never fail to surprise me, Lancaster. All night, huh?”
“I’m warning you, I’m not sleeping on the beach or in your car. I’ll freeze to death.”
“Then we’ll go to my place. But only if you put on my jacket.”
He starts to take it off, and I feel panic wash over me once more.
“You’d better let me sleep in your bed,” I whisper.
“No problem. As long as I’m in it too.”
This situation is slipping completely out of my control.
“In your dreams, Arcadi.”
Wrapped in the warmth of his jacket, I call Clémentine while we’re driving and let her know what’s happening. I do it for the reassurance of both a second opinion and a familiar voice. I need to know I’m not making a huge mistake.
She responds with high-pitched squeals and breathless laughter.
She doesn’t tell me to turn around, to run away, to come to her place, or to go home.
She lets me live.
Live the way I want to.