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Chapter1
Valentina: Age Sixteen
Ilet out a loud whoop as Jimmy Butler tears down the court at FXT Arena here in Miami. He goes in for a layup and the crowd goes insane around us.
Swish!
“This was a really great idea.” I turn to Charly with a smile. “I was afraid it might be a little weird…”
Charly nods and takes a long gulp of her Diet Coke. “There’s no reason why other people’s mistakes have to get in the way of our friendship.”
“True.” I bite down on my lower lip and glance down at my phone. My older brother Dima told me to call if I needed a ride home. And since Dad gave me very specific instructions not to tell him who I’m with, I’ll need to show up at his car alone or else there will be too many questions I can’t answer.
The last thing I want is to get caught in the middle of this drama.
I’m only here tonight because I really like Charly and I want to get to know her better. It may have taken us a while to find each other, but now that we have, I feel like I’m being pulled to her, like she’s a funnel cloud and I’m dancing around on the outskirts of it. Every step toward her tugs at me a little bit more.
But something holds me back. I can’t explain it. I just know deep down I can’t allow myself to get sucked inside.
Maybe it’s because of the tiny twinge of guilt that twists my gut when I think of my mother.
Charly punches a fist into the air. “Yes! Let’s go, Love!”
I jerk my head toward the court, dragging my mind back to the game. Power forward Kevin Love just scored against the Celtics, tying up the score with only a few seconds to go. Charly stands up next to me, a big smile stretched across her lips, blond curls bouncing over her shoulders as she claps and cheers on the Heat.
I can’t deny that this situation is beyond weird, but it would be wrong of me to turn my back on her, especially after we met purely by accident. Dad wasn’t thrilled when I burst into his office in downtown Miami a couple of months ago and found them together.
It took him some time to warm to this whole idea of us being… friends.
And none of my siblings have a clue.
I asked questions, of course. But since Dad was pretty tight-lipped about the answers, I gave up. He’s a stubborn Russian. I know better than to test his patience.
So I’ve kept his secret, and damn, if it doesn’t eat at my insides every time I lie to my family… especially Mom… when I’m heading out to meet Charly.
Charly is as locked down as Dad. She lets me in a little bit, then pushes me away so that I’m dangling at arm’s length. Never asks me anything about my brothers or sister. Only my mom, and every time her name comes up, it makes me break out in a cold sweat. I try to give her short answers for those questions and then change the subject as quickly as possible.
I found out Charly went to college at Vanderbilt University and now she’s got some fancy job at a sports management agency here in Miami. She handles public relations for a lot of the top players, which is why we were able to score these awesome floor seats tonight.
There’s something about her that captivates me, but at the same time freaks me the hell out. There’s a push and pull, like a perpetual game of Ping-Pong. I want to figure her out, but I hate feeling so darned deceptive about it.
And the reality is that I don’t even know how much time we’ll have together.
It makes me a little sad to think about.
The deafening roar of the crowd rattles my eardrums when Cody Zeller makes a three-pointer from the line, sending the Miami Heat to the playoffs. Players, media, and press rush the court, the fans around us screaming like they’ve just won the lottery.
Charly’s cheeks are flushed deep pink, her green eyes sparkling with excitement. “What an incredible comeback. Come on, all of that excitement just made me super ravenous. Let’s grab something to eat. I know an amazing place for Cuban sandwiches we can hit.”
My mouth waters. Cuban sandwiches. My very favorite food in the whole world. I could seriously live on them. They cover every major food group. The tang of the pickle, the right flavors of thick cut ham and pork shoulder married together with Swiss cheese and spicy brown mustard. A good Cuban sandwich can make me swoon faster than any guy ever could, that’s for sure.
We dodge through crowds of rowdy fans holding up plastic cups full of beer. Some guy hip checks me and his beer sloshes over the side of his cup. It splashes my bare skin, drenching the side of my tank top.
“Oops,” he says with a leering grin. “Can I help ya dry off?”
I glance down at the wet spot covering my right boob, the part that took the brunt of the splash, and then glare at the guy. “Thanks, you’ve done enough.”
Charly grabs my hand and pulls me away from the guy. A quick glance over my shoulder confirms he’s still got his lecherous eyes on me.
