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I huffed. “I never knew you to care about anything but catching an STD, yet here we are.”
His eyes widened before he hid it. “Oh, so the sheltered princess picked up sex education lessons. Would this be from life experiences?”
“The door’s right there.” I pointed, hoping he’d take the hint.
He made no move to leave.
“Look. I want to live my life. I want to make friends. Go on dates. Be a normal teenager. Is that too much to ask for? Can you not get it through your stubborn head?”
He pierced me with his eyes, then he rose from the bed, grumbling something in his stupid Russian language, before he switched to English. “Fine. If that’s the way you want to be, so be it. But you’re the one being stubborn.”
“Whatever. You can leave my room now.” I rolled my eyes because this conversation was going downhill. Had been since the beginning.
“And if you think you will be going to my high school and ‘living it up,’ going to parties, and staying up all hours of the night, you’d better rethink this whole fucking scenario in your head. I will not tolerate you embarrassing our family because you got a wild hair up your ass and made a fool of yourself at a party.”
“You can’t tell me what to do.”
“See if I can’t,zaychik. Try me.”
“Get out!” I yelled. “And stop calling me that. I’m not a bunny.”
He paused by the door. “You are whoever I say you are, and right now, you’re acting like a child. Haven’t you ever heard of respecting your elders?”
Gah, he was pushing my buttons. I reached behind me, grabbing the first thing I could get my hands on, which was a pillow, and threw it at him. He easily caught it with one hand and raised a dark brow.
“You don’t deserve my respect,” I warned.
He tilted his head slowly, and a challenging glint passed through his eyes as he clutched both ends of the pillow. He moved slowly toward me, like a menacing predator, with the pillow held out in his hands. I had an insane thought that he was going to smother my face with it, but I held my ground. He chuckled darkly. “You’re such a brat.”
When the pillow was a few inches from my face, I held my hands up, shoving it away. Panic rose up my throat. However, he wasn’t trying to suffocate me with my favorite pillow that I’d had since a child. Instead, he tossed it behind me and pushed me back on the bed, where my head snapped back, plunging into the softness. I glanced up at him in shock, trying to roll away, but he came down on top of me, his muscular thighs encasing my hips to keep me immobile.
“Get off me.” I bucked, feeling something more than trepidation. I fought again and again, trying to throw him off, but no matter how hard I tried, he didn’t budge. I shoved at his brick wall of a chest under his T-shirt, and he easily yanked my fists into his hands and drove them down beside my head with minimal effort. Something both thrilling and frightening coursed down my spine. He could easily physically hurt me if he wanted to, but surprisingly, I wasn’t scared, not really. I licked my lips and glared up at him. “Wow. You must feel really proud of being able to overpower a girl much smaller than you.” I expected to see him smile in triumph or tease me mercilessly.
He glanced down between us and was staring at the bare skin of my stomach on display, since my tank rode up in the struggle. He drew his eyes to mine, and they were darker, filled with something I couldn’t decipher. He swallowed thickly but glanced at me warily. “That’s not exactly how I would describe what I am feeling right now,” he croaked, as if he seemed somewhat repulsed. His eyes flicked down between us again, and his breathing labored heavier than it did when we struggled.
I, too, followed the direction of his attention and glanced down between us and saw the bulge protruding unmistakably in the gray sweats he wore. It was pronounced, hard to miss. Some basic instinct told me it was wrong, but I couldn’t stop looking, studying it with some kind of bewilderment.
I could feel my cheeks heat, and my eyes widened. “What’s happening?”
He closed his eyes briefly and his brows dipped to a V. “Nothing.” He released his grip on my wrists and leaned back, putting more space between us. “For the record, I don’t want your respect.”
“Then what is it you want?”
He slipped off me, and I immediately missed his warmth, although his next words left a chill. “Don’t ask foolish questions. I’m not here for your entertainment.”
“I never said you were.” I was confused by this conversation. I was definitely confused by him and his actions. “I don’t understand—”
“If you’re really that naïve, Sorina, maybe it would be in your best interest to go back to gymnastics and continue with online school. Stay in your little bubble.”
He stalked to the door, almost slamming it behind him, while I stared at it in bafflement.
Dmitri
—Age 18
It was my senior year, and I was the one who would take care of Sorina, per Artynom. As usual, my father indulged his little princess in her wishes to quit gymnastics and attend public school. I drove her to school every day. She was this sheltered girl who had no concept of living out her teenage dreams but was ready to do it with open arms—at her request—and I was supposed to be her goddamn tour guide to American High School 101. Much to my chagrin. I never signed up for this job.
But it was difficult to miss how she’d regained her sparkle and feistiness again. She made the cheer team, which elevated her status to one of the popular girls. She was outgoing and dressed like she stepped off the runway. Not to mention, she had that slight accent and new-girl quality that made everyone curious about her like a shiny, new toy. People were always fascinated by the new kid on the block. New blood. It was bad enough she was fucking gorgeous. Did she have to have that winning personality, too? Did I actually think those thoughts? Did I sound like a big pussy? Yeah, kind of did right now.
