Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 64993 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64993 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
One corner of her mouth tips up as she must recognize her own move. “That feels good,” she says softly.
I keep working. “These hands are so small for how much pressure you put through them. I can’t believe how hard you can dig with them.”
The smile appears at both corners now. “Sometimes I use my elbow.”
I raise my brows, surprised. “Ah? I didn’t know. Huh.” I pick up her other hand and give it the same treatment. “I care about you,” I admit. “And I’m obviously very attracted to you. But…”
“You can’t have a relationship,” she finishes for me. I see a flicker of hurt before she hides it, and it makes me want to do everything in my power to fix it.
Except I can’t.
“Right. I don’t want to hurt you—I mean, I know I already have—but I don’t want to hurt you more.”
“It’s okay,” she says softly. Her eyes tear up, but she blinks it back. “Can we, um, can we be friends?”
I wrap her hand up in both of mine and squeeze. “We are friends,” I promise. “I know I haven’t been a good one, but I’ve always considered you a friend.”
Her nod is earnest. There’s a tremble in her lips, but she hides it by tugging the blanket up over her chin.
“So no more sex. I’m going to be the girl and say it’s too confusing for me.”
She gives a watery laugh. “No more sex.” She slumps back against the couch, her head dropping to the fluffy cushion. “This sucks.”
Understatement. And all my fault.
“I agree. I’m sorry.” I reach out and stroke my hand over the back of her head.
“Is a cuddle out of bounds?”
“A… cuddle?” A rusty laugh comes from my throat as my chest squeezes. “You need a little sugar?”
She nods, leaning into me as I lift my arm to loop around her. She rests her head against my shoulder and molds to my side, sweetness and summer and angel wings wrapped into one.
I find another movie and turn it on, propping my feet on the coffee table. Her legs tangle over the top of mine, and her breath evens.
When I’m sure she’s asleep, I stroke her face and kiss the top of her head. And then I don’t move a muscle, even when I remember the laundry in the washer. Not when I decide I have to pee and should really check on Nikolai.
I don’t move because Natasha needed this cuddle, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to wake her up and take it away.
Natasha
I jerk awake with a gasp.
No, that wasn’t my gasp. I lift my head in the dim light to peer at Dima. We’re still on the sofa, our bodies intertwined. I must’ve fallen asleep during the last movie, which is obviously over now because the television is off.
“Izvinyayus',” Dima mutters an apology, and I realize it was a sharp movement from him that woke me.
“Did you have a bad dream?”
“Da.” He hasn’t switched to English yet. I understand Russian perfectly. I can speak it perfectly, too, once I’m in the mode, but I prefer English. After Pamela’s in-school rejection, I made a choice. Dima was right, I Americanized myself completely.
I press my hand over his heart, not surprised when I find it racing. “What was it?”
“You and Nikolai and A—” He breaks off, shaking his head. “Just… people I care about dying. Because of me.”
“What happened to Nikolai wasn’t your fault,” I tell him, pulling away to sit up straighter.
His gaze drops to my left breast, which has come out from the blanket. A muscle jumps in his jaw, and he scoots away from me.
“No, it was Alex’s fault, and I will make him pay.”
He’s back to being grumpy-Dima, and it all becomes perfectly clear now. His anger toward me was a redirection of his own guilt. He’s suffering over this—he told me that outside in that puddle.
It’s not the first time he’s nearly died because of me.
“What if it all just… was? What if it’s nobody’s fault—just a series of events?”
Dima scoffs.
“I mean, we assign meaning to things. Death is bad. Birth is good. But is that really true? If no one ever died, the planet wouldn’t survive. Leaving Russia was bad, trying to integrate into school was bad, but was it really? I don’t regret who I am today. What if there was no right or wrong. No good or bad. No one to blame.”
Dima scrubs his hand over his face.
“I’m sorry Nikolai’s suffering, but… I’m not sorry I had this time here with you—even the bad parts.” I shrug. “It is what it is.”
Dima meets my gaze and holds it. “You’re wise for your age.”
“I just want you to be free,” I whisper hoarsely, and we both know I’m talking about more than his guilt over Nikolai.