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27
MAREK
Bouncingon the balls of my feet, I rubbed my hands together for the twentieth time, though it didn’t keep the cold at bay for long. I fished my phone out of my pocket to check the time again and also to make sure I hadn’t missed any texts.
Nope. Hadn’t missed anything in the two minutes since I’d last looked.
My breath crystallized in the cold night air when I exhaled sharply, trying to get it together. It shouldn’t have been as nerve-racking as it was, considering this whole thing wasmyidea.
A date with Misha. A real date. My first, honestly, because appointments with clients didnotcount. Most of the time I had no interest in the restaurants they chose or the social events we attended. It was all for show, anyway. None of them cared beyond getting off at the end of the night. With what I was getting paid, I didn’t care either.
But I cared about Misha. I couldn’t deny it any longer. I wanted to get it right with him, even though I had no clue where to start. Googling Russian dating customs didn’t really help considering we were both men. He didn’t seem pissed when I insisted on taking the more masculine role in our little adventure, but who knew? He was so stoic about everything, I didn’t know if I would have picked up on him being pissed even if he was.
Well, not true. Three nights ago was the first time I saw any real anger from him and I totally brought it on myself. Basically calling a man like him a coward to his face?Brilliant move, Marek.I was lucky all he did was slam my ass into a wall. Especially when he followed it up by telling me he brought Sergei the head of one of his rivals. Did hemeanthat or was it hyperbole in the heat of the moment? Deep down I had a feeling he meant it in the most literal sense possible, which wasn’t as unsettling as it should have been.
So if he didn’t lie about cutting off someone’s head, why would he lie about his feelings toward me? Short answer: he wouldn’t. Which meant he cared about me in return, more than anyone had in my whole life. Why? Fuck if I knew, but he did.
Nausea swirled in the pit of my stomach, tossing the remnants of a protein bar around like a tiny tornado. I was going to fuck up everything, I knew it. The date? The…thingwith him, whatever it was? My job? All of it. My life was a toxic wasteland—Iwas a toxic wasteland—and sooner or later it was going to infect him. I couldn’t let that happen. He didn’t deserve it. Despite all of the shit he said about killing and lies and whatever else he did, he was still a better person than me; he deserved to be with someone who could actually make him happy.
Right as I pulled my phone out to cancel this whole terrible idea, the crowd of bundled-up Chicagoans parted and Misha appeared, moving through them with confidence, absolutely sure of his destination.
Despite the many layers, he looked amazing, as always. Judging from the pants, he was in another suit with a black overcoat and a pale scarf fashionably tied. Black leather gloves completed the wintery ensemble.
At least I didn’t look like a total schmuck next to him, thanks to the designer peacoat he’d gifted me, but I knew I was nowhere near his level of sophistication.Yet another reason this was never going to work.
“You’re early,” he said with a smile as he got closer. He’d shaved. Completely. Normally he only had a day or two worth of growth, so it wasn’t a total transformation, but it was still a noticeable change.
“So are you,” I countered, trying to shake off the lingering jitters. “I said seven.”
“I couldn’t wait to see you.”
For once I didn’t mind blushing because it meant some heat actually returned to my face for a nanosecond before the frigid air took it away again. “I hope this is ok?” I tossed my head toward the zoo. “I mean, is Lincoln Park far enough?”
“It’s perfect.”
I doubted that very much but I kept my mouth shut and turned toward the front gate, following the crowd inside. I didn’t have to worry about losing Misha; he stayed right beside me, creating a little bubble from his size alone. I wasn’t short by any means but people didn’t give you much room when you looked like you had some Victorian wasting disease. Even if he quit working out, or whatever he did to look fucking amazing, Misha would never have that problem.
Christmas lights glittered everywhere in every color and bulb size imaginable. If it stood still long enough, there were lights on it. They adorned trees and bushes, formed huge tunnels along the walkways, and wrapped around every pole in the zoo. “Animated” animals were set up in various intervals, running and hopping all over as lights darted from one display to the next, like a cartoon in slow motion.
It was beautiful, even for someone like me who hated Christmas.
I didn’t want to come for the lights, per se, or the jolly festivities. I picked the zoo because it seemed innocent enough on the off-chance someone recognized Misha. There were thousands of people going in and out of that place. To an outsider, there wasn’t anything remotely suspicious about the fact we were both there at the same time. It’d be like going to the Christkindlmarket or the Bean, December staples in Chicago, not the covert date that it was.
“You’re quiet,” Misha said. “Is everything alright?”
“Yeah. Just taking it all in. You know? Have you ever been to this before?”
He shook his head. “No, never. Valery and I went to the Museum of Science and Industry last year to look at the Christmas trees from around the world. That was interesting.”
“Oh yeah? A date with Valery?” I elbowed him lightly. “I bet you two were a sight.”A fucking hot, dangerous sight thatactuallymade sense.
He chuckled and elbowed me back. “It wasn’t like that. Anton was supposed to go but he got sick, so Valery came instead. He really enjoyed it. I think he’d like this place too.”
“I didn’t picture Valery as an arts and culture kind of guy. Anton, either, for that matter.”
“You’d be surprised how well we hide who we truly are.”
“Aside from hanging out at Delirium and stalking people, whatdoyou guys do all day? Like, how does that work? Do you get a paycheck every two weeks from Sergei and W-2s at the end of the year for taxes?”
