Well, I could. But I won’t. I owe her some honesty, and I don’t have to lie about this.
I slide into the open chair opposite Carina without waiting for an invitation. Without saying a word.
She stares at me. Blinks in rapid succession, like she’s questioning her eyes’ reliability.
I stare back, experiencing a similar surrealism. My fingers curl into fists beneath the table. All I feel is my own callous skin—nothing hot or sticky.
I’m out of practice with sparking polite conversation. It’s been a while since I discussed anything that wasn’t deliberation about which traitor to torture first or asking for shipment updates. I needed a reminder I’m capable of something other than violence. Maybe I’m not though, and this will be a brutal realization I’m nothing more than a killing machine.
“Lev.”
That one word—the confirmation she remembers more than my face—has an electric effect. Something firm to focus on amid a sea of uncertainty.
I incline my chin. “Carina.”
She blushes, and it’s beautiful. She’s beautiful. Older than the girl I remember. Her hair is shorter, barely brushing her shoulders. Her face has narrowed, making the symmetry of her bone structure more noticeable. She’s wearing a maroon sweatshirt with the university’s logo printed on the front, the sleeves pushed up to her elbows.
Carina leans closer.
“What are you doing here?” she asks. “Are you … a student?” Her voice lowers, even though there’s no one seated at the closest table. Instinctively discreet, which I’m impressed by.Most women talk and laugh louder when I’m nearby, trying to hold my interest or to draw others’ attention to our association.
I nearly smile at the second question. She sounds dubious, too, knowing it’s an unlikely possibility.
“No. Just visiting. I’m here to see you.”
Her eyebrows lift an inch. “How did you know where to find me?”
I reach out and pick up her highlighter, spinning it around one finger. “Lucky guess.”
I admitted I came to see her. She’s better off not knowing about the cybercrimes.
“What are you doing in Chicago?”
I toss the highlighter back on the table, my mood immediately darkening. “Work.”
“Please, don’t overexplain.”
I savor her sarcasm, soaking it in slowly. No one, with the exception of Aleksandr when I outperform him or Maksim when I scold him, is brave enough to talk back to me.
I nod at the open books. “What are you studying?”
“These are for my Greek mythology seminar,” she answers. “But I’m planning to major in music.”
“Do you play?”
“Violin. Since I was little.” She picks up the same highlighter I was fiddling with, rolling it between her fingers. “I joined the intramural swim team.”
It takes me a moment to decipher the strange emotion swelling in my chest. Pride, I finally decide.
“Good for you.”
She blushes again.
My phone begins buzzing in my pocket. I swear under my breath as I pull it out, already knowing what the summons must mean. I left clear instructions. If someone’s calling, there’s a serious issue.
“I have to go,” I tell Carina, allowing some regret to seep into my voice. If I hadn’t been such a coward about approaching her, we would have had more time.
“Oh. Okay.”
