48
The next day I meet up with Clémentine at college, but decide not to tell her anything.
She asks me a hundred times what’s wrong, then finally informs me that I’m being a buzzkill.
Our short films were a success, the school year is coming to an end, and she doesn’t understand why I’m not jumping for joy.
I use a migraine, stress, and late-night studying for the final exams as an excuse.
Clem rolls her eyes, then drags me by the arm to our classroom.
Mr. Abrams has already arrived.
A few minutes later, Vadim shows up, without rushing or apologizing for being late. He slumps into his chair in the back row. The professor sighs as he watches him, but it’s me that Arcadi is staring at, a strange smirk on his lips. Somewhere between a smile and a challenge.
His eyes are as apologetic as they are defiant.
“Apparently acting weird is contagious!” Clem says, barely whispering. Then, she bursts out laughing.
“D’Aragon, do you have something funny you’d like to share with the class?”
“Uh… no, but I wouldn’t mind a cookie or a Twix, if you happen to have one!”
“Clark? Have you got any snacks that would help keep her quiet?”
“I’m on it, Professor!”
“Perfect. While those two have their breakfast, I’m going to say a few words you’ll never hear come out of my mouth again, so remember them!”
“We love you too, Mr. Abrams!” Nicki Scott squeals, and the whole room erupts in a fit of laughter.
“I wouldn’t go that far,” he chuckles. “But I congratulate you on your work. The jury was impressed and, given how dreadful you were last September, it was unexpected. I found most of your short films interesting, some very polished, and others even left me speechless.”
He gaze rests on Vadim.
“And God knows, that doesn’t happen very often.”
More laughter ripples around the classroom.
“Some, unfortunately, played it safe…”
This time, I’m the one who gets a pointed look.
“Not true. She played it anything but safe,” Vadim interrupts him.
“Oh, look! The knight is back on his white steed!” Abrams claps in that slow, ironic way that quickly becomes awkward.
“No, Alma doesn’t need a knight in shining armor,” Vadim replies. “She doesn’t need anyone. She prefers to be alone.”
“I also prefer it when people don’t talk about me as if I weren’t there.”
I turn toward the back of the classroom and glare at Vadim. The combination of that smirk and his mocking expression make me want to slap him.
“Are we bothering you two?” asks the professor. “If you want me to settle this, I can! Arcadi experienced a cinematic revelation. Lancaster just settled for making a pretty documentary. That means I was probably wrong at the beginning of the year, but it happens even to the best—”
“You’re right about one thing, Mr. Abrams. You aren’t speechless often enough,” I blurt out, triggering another round of giggles.
“At least this year has toughened you up, Alma. Mission accomplished!” Abrams takes a dramatic bow.
Meanwhile, the dark-haired, gray-eyed guy at the back continues to stare at me.
Vadim pushes my buttons. And tugs at my heart.
***
In the days that follow, Vadim keeps watching me, directing little jabs at me, challenging me, just like he did at the very beginning. As if the only way he can win back my trust is with that same charm offensive—the rebellious, cocky boy I fell for first time around. But I resist.
I still don’t know if I should believe him. The photo of him with Cheyenne still makes my stomach turn every time I look at it. But at the same time, the conspiracy theory is starting to wriggle its way into my consciousness. We’ve been through so much that nothing would surprise me anymore.
Am I just the good, sweet girl who fell in love with the bad boy? Or is Vadim Arcadi really the love of my life, and the world is determined to stand between us? How can I know? How can I be sure?
“Alma!”
I’m studying for the last exam of the year when I hear my mother calling me. When I join her in her room, I find her in my father’s arms. Two hastily packed suitcases sit on the carpet. Seeing me, she reaches out a hand and beckons me over.
“What’s going on? You’re scaring me…”
“It’s your grandmother, sweetheart. She isn’t doing well.”
“We’re leaving for France today. Perhaps it’s a false alarm, but we’d rather go anyway, so we can be with her,” my father adds softly.
“I want to come too!”
“You still have an exam to take, Alma. You can join us when you’re finished.”
“You’re just saying that so I don’t feel guilty.”
I feel the tears welling up.
“Your father is right,” Mom sniffles, rubbing my back. “You and Basile need to stay here until classes are over. You’re old enough. And besides, Georgia will be here. We’re taking Lily. It’s okay if she misses school.”
“We’re counting on you to behave like responsible adults in our absence, understood?”
I ignore my father’s usual lecture.
“Tell Grandma that I’m thinking of her. And that I’ll call her. No, that I love her!”
***
That evening, my parents call us from Paris to let us know that my grandmother’s health has improved slightly. I can breathe again.
“She’s still as old and wrinkled as ever, but she’s back for another round!” Lily bellows on the other end of the line.
They decide to stay in France for a few days.
I text Clémentine, out of habit.
[Clem, Grandma is hanging in there!]
[Little old ladies rock!]
[Pool and movie night at my place?]
[I’m coming. You got popcorn?]
[We’ll order whatever you want.]
[Korean! And pizza!
And Krispy Kreme donuts, obvs…
I’m going to drain your bank account, Lancaster.]
[Doesn’t matter, Lorelai and Rory Gilmore
would be proud of us…]
Ten minutes later, the doorbell rings. At least five times. I hear Clem squawking as I go down the stairs.
“Hi, Georgette! I found this hooligan lurking around the house… Should we let him in or call the police?”
“I wasn’t lurking, I was about to ring the bell when this wacko beat me to it.”
My eyes meet Vadim’s. A small pit forms in my stomach.
“Alma, you should have seen it! Arcadi pacing up and down on your sidewalk like a little cat someone forgot outside…”
“Give it a rest, you savage beast. Some of us are civilized people who think before they start frantically pressing a doorbell.”
“Who invited you, anyway? I thought you two weren’t speaking.”
“I did.”
Vadim raises an eyebrow, surprised that I’m lying for him.
“Well, you two are already tiring me out. I think I’ll spend the evening with Georgia instead!”
Georgia laughs and plants a kiss on my head.
“So, what should I make you for dinner?”
“Nothing. You’re off duty tonight. And I could have opened the door for them!”
“Alma, there’s no need to do my job for me!”
I stick my tongue out at her, and she pretends to grab it and tie it in a knot, just like she did when I was ten. Georgia has always been there. Quiet but caring. Rarely strict, often tender, always fair, the way a mother would be.
Clémentine darts into the kitchen, and Georgia follows at a quick trot. Vadim walks slowly past me into the house, taking care to brush against me as he goes.
“Basile told me your grandmother wasn’t doing so well?”
“It’s less serious than we thought.”
We whisper, our mouths way too close to each other.
I don’t move an inch. But his lips, soft and full, don’t kiss me.
They curve into a smile that knocks me off my feet.