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This girl has almost no clothes on. Her mini skirt could be a headband and her baby tee might be too small for an actual infant. Plus, it’s barely 8:00 A.M. Who needs a smokey eye and a red lip at the breakfast table?
The girl finally looks up. Her expression doesn’t change. “Oh. Hi.”
She doesn’t sound as surprised to see me as I am to see her. Maybe she’s a regular visitor. Is there any way she is here to see?—
No. Absolutely not. She’s a teenager. Yakov would never do that.
“Can’t even say ‘hello.’ Looks like my brother bagged a real genius,” she mumbles, as if I can’t hear her.
Brother.
“Mariya,” I blurt before I can stop myself. It’s more from relief than anything else.
“Who are you? Aside from my brother’s latest hookup.” She looks me up and down. “Nice jeans. I didn’t know bootcut was still a thing.”
God, teenagers are the fucking worst.
I paste on a smile even though I already want to grab this little snot by the throat. “My name is Luna. I’m staying here.”
“What does that mean? ‘Staying here?’” Mariya asks.
“It means what I said. I’m staying here.”
I walk to the pantry like I own the place. Like I’m a guest who knows my way around. Like I didn’t just spend the past two days locked in a bedroom.
If Mariya even buys that I’ve been in this house longer than one day, I’ll be happy. With every second her attention is on me, I can feel my confidence draining away. It’s like walking past the cheerleaders in high school all over again.
“Are you two dating?”
I smile sweetly. “Like I said, I’m staying here. I’ll let your brother tell you anything more than that. I don’t want to overstep.”
She rolls her eyes. “Translation: you’re sleeping together. Good to know.”
Mariya is playing tough, but she’s as nervous of me as I am of her. I remember what it was like to be a teenage girl.
I sit at the stool two away from Mariya. “When did you get in from Moscow?”
Why are you here? When did Yakov decide he wanted you to live with him? Was he ever going to tell me?
Last I knew, Yakov didn’t want Mariya here. He didn’t think it was safe for her. Apparently, a lot has changed in the last two days.
“Late last night.”
“You’re up early then.”
“Jetlag.” She looks at me out of the corner of her eye. “Maybe you’re the reason he doesn’t want me staying here. Is he ashamed of you or something?”
Just casually preying on my biggest insecurities. No big deal. I’m fine.
“Whatever your brother decides, it has nothing to do with me,” I tell her. “But I doubt he’d tell you he doesn’t want you to stay here.”
Not to her face, anyway.
She snorts derisively. “You should have seen him last night. Me showing up on his front porch wasn’t on his bingo card. He looked like he was gonna be sick.”
Mariya showed up out of the blue. That makes more sense.
He said his mom wanted her to stay here, but he’d refused. Apparently, they went over his head. God help them.
