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I gagged. “I’m not asking your brother to go to the wedding with me.”
“And why not?” she huffed indignantly.
Holding up my fingers, which were starting to blur at the edges, I began to tick off reasons. “One; he’s like ten years older than you, and that makes him way older than me, even though you got into college so young, you homeschooled brat. But that’s beside the point. Two; he’s rude—”
“He teases you! He’s not serious.”
I shook my head. “No, Viktor would sooner torment me than help me. And I hate him.”
“You two have a strange relationship. It’s all explosions.” She considered me, a finger tapping her lips. “I think that if you embrace the fireworks, instead of aiming them at one another, you’ll find yourself much better off.”
“No! I hate your brother, he’s so rude.” Great, now I was repeating myself. Broken record Bri normally meant I was done with alcohol.
“He can play nice, Bri. And you don’t hate him. He needles you, and you like it. That’s because none of these other trust fund brats can make you feel how he does.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Isn’t that gross to say?”
Sophia shrugged. “It’s true. And it’s natural for two high rollers such as yourselves to have the chemistry you do. You just refuse to let your hair down and cross the line with him.”
I sighed, unwilling to let this conversation go much further. It was best left alone. “Let’s finish packing.”
“Youstay put and drink some water,” Sophia commanded, and she went back into the living area to work on her desk drawers.
The filtered water from the tap ran cold. I filled a glass but stared out the window at the sunny afternoon. Memories from when Sophia’s brother came to visit filtered through my mind. The rapid slideshow ran wild, refusing to pause so my analytical mind could dissect individual pieces.Is he really that bad?I snorted and took a long drink of water. The answer was a resounding yes. It might be better to appear alone instead of asking him. Might—but not by much.
Picturing a long weekend with my family and their friends made me shiver. What if I did bring him? Would he really be that bad? Crap. I was repeating myself. I guzzled the water and refilled the glass.
And if I could bring myself to ask him, how would I even go about doing it?It would involve getting his contact information from Sophia, who would crow. Oh, she would pester me every second of every day, probably drive me up a tree! No, if I was desperate enough to ask him—which I wasn’t yet—I would have to contrive some way without her knowing.
Sipping the second glass, I turned and noticed a phone left on the island. It was Sophia’s, and it was open. I gaped. Miss Password Freak hadn’t closed it! For once, drunk Sophia had slipped up.
The universe had spoken. I could take his number without the cute little pest knowing!
And then I can decide how desperate I am when I’m sober.I didn’t have to use the number. No one would know how close I came to contacting Viktor.
But I would have it. Just in case.
Without a second thought, I tapped into her contacts. The settings were Cyrillic, but coming from a family where multiple languages was a necessity, I’d decided to learn Russian since my roommate was a first generation with a fluent family. Already knowing the romance languages, it was a different mindset to switch into the complexity of her native tongue, but I picked up the basics quick enough that I could now have a conversation. Sophia assured me I didn’t sound childish with the structure, although my accent was terribly thick. But when she and her family spoke fast and got into a heated discussion, it was hard to follow. Reading came much easier.
The name listed as ‘goat’was the one I needed. While it meant the animal, it was also a semi-offensive term that she used for one specific person. Bubbly, petite Sophia had dubbed her brother as such in revenge for him calling her ‘little rabbit.’
The California number blinked at me. I considered forwarding it to myself but knew Sophia would find out what I’d done. I still wasn’t sure I was going to go through with asking Viktor to the wedding, but I didn’t want to shut that option off prematurely. Sober me needed time to think on it. Decided, I grabbed a Sharpie, yanked my shirt up, and wrote his number on my belly. Pulling my shirt back down, I tapped back to the home screen, then clicked the phone into sleep mode and placed it back on the counter with the pen.
Not stopping to think about what I’d done, I went back to packing. The movers would be here at nine tomorrow morning. I couldn’t believe it; we’d been living here for seven years. The end of an era. I would be sobbing myself to sleep tonight, regardless of how much alcohol I’d ingested.
