“That’s awesome,” he says. “My mom was an awful cook. She burnt literally everything she made. It drove my dad crazy. Growing up, I ate a lot of takeout food. I don’t know how I never got fat. We had pizza or Chinese food almost every night.”
Tristan never talks about his family. I like that he’s talking about them now.
“Your family sounds awesome,” I say.
He tenses up. “Are you cold?” he asks, clearly changing the subject.
And just like like, Tristan is done talking about anything personal.
At least I got that much out of him.
The accident.
The second Tristan and I walk into the restaurant, I know it will be good.
First, because it smells like home.
Second, because the girl at the counter has a Russian accent.
Tristan and I order our food. The girl asks me where I’m from, and I tell her. I get to speak in my native tongue to somebody who isn’t a psycho killer, so I’m pretty excited about it. I hope I get to come back soon.
Tristan and I sit at a table close to the front, away from the window. He takes the chair facing the door, and I figure that is on purpose. Everything that he does is very calculated and always for a reason.
He’s one of the smartest people I’ve ever met. Maybe in different ways that what most people would consider “smart”. He’s very analytical. Nothing goes unnoticed by him—ever. Tomorrow, if I were to ask him what the girl behind the counter looked like, he’d be able to describe her perfectly. That’s probably why he has the job he does.
But he’s been very quiet since the car, after he told me about his family. I hate that he’s shut me out, but I don’t know what to do. Sure, he’s my bodyguard, but he’s more than that. Over the past month, he’s became my friend. And I want him to be happy. Especially since he’s stuck babysitting me.
“Tristan, do you really think my dad sent me here so I could get an in with the kids here?” I ask. “So I could… you know…” kill them. The words die on my lips before I can say them.
He looks at me. “I don’t think that’s the only reason, no.”
“Then why?” I ask. “I can’t figure it out.”
“I figured you’d know by now,” he says. “Your cousin goes to school here.”
“My cousin?” I ask.
“Jade Bello,” he says.
“Jade. That means Dean Bello is my…” I let my voice trail off.
“Aunt. Your mother’s sister,” he says.
“That’s why Jade’s eyes looked so familiar to me. They’re so blue. Like mine and like my mum’s,” I say. “Wow. I have a cousin.”
“Your aunt got you in here on a scholarship,” he says.
“Why do I need a scholarship if my dad’s a billionaire?”
“Because you’re not supposed to know he’s a billionaire. Neither is your mom,” he says. “He’s supposed to be an engineer, remember? Not a terrorist.”
“Right,” I say, then shiver. I wonder how he got billions.
The girl from behind the counter comes and brings our drinks and then goes back behind the counter to take the order of somebody else. I just sit there, wondering how many lives my father has taken. How could he? He knows how it feels to lose—first with his mum and dad when he was a kid, and then with his son more recently.
“Katerina, I don’t want you to be mad, but I did some research on you… on your family,” he says. “It’s kind of my job. And when I was finding out stuff about you, I kind of ran across some information about the accident.”
The accident.
Those words ring in my head.
“You won’t talk to me about your family,” I say, feeling defensive. The accident is the last thing on the planet that I ever want to talk about—with him or with anybody else. “So you have no right to bring that up.”
“Sorry,” he says. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have. I won’t bring it up again unless you want to talk about it. I just wanted you to know that if you ever want to talk, I’m here.”
“I don’t,” I say.
Ever.
Ever.
Ever.
Thankfully, the girl comes with our food and sits it in front of us. It smells amazing.
I take a few seconds to pray over my food and then start eating.
“This is amazing,” I say, stuffing a second bite into my mouth.
“It’s better than last time I was here,” he says. “It had an American touch to it last time. Now, it tastes truly authentic.”
“They probably change it up so Americans like it,” I say. “Since I’m Russian, they didn’t have to do that for me.”
“I think you’re right. I went to Japan once. Their sushi is nothing like ours,” he says. “They actually have street venders that sell these giant squid legs. And when you go to the movies, they actually sell fried squid like American theaters sell popcorn.”
“I like squid,” I say, thinking I’d fit in there.
“You know, I didn’t think I did until that trip. My older brother kept telling me how amazing it was. I finally caved and tried it,” he says. “It was so good. After that I decided that I want to try every kind of food that I can find, at least once. I could be missing out on my favorite new food, you know?”
“I’ve always been adventurous with food,” I say. “Alik, however, is not at all. One time my mum made him eat a green bean when we were kids and he actually cried. It was really funny. Dimitri, Eduard and I made fun of him for years over that one.”
I laugh, thinking about the memory.
My chest aches a bit, thinking about how much I miss my brothers.
“You miss them,” he says, it’s not a question.
“Sometimes so bad that I can hardly stand it.”
“I bet they miss you too.”
“They haven’t called me,” I say. “Nobody has. Not even my mum.”
“Maybe you should call them.”
Maybe I should.
We eat the rest of our dinner and then head back to the dorms.
Tristan finally goes back to his dorm room, but he does leave one of Damon’s bodyguards to stay with me. The older guy rolls a sleeping bag onto my floor and goes to sleep. When Savannah comes in, she gives me a questioning look, but doesn’t say anything. I just shrug.
This is my life now.
Just as I’m about to drift off to sleep, the guy snores really loud, startling me.
I put a pillow over my head and groan.
This is going to be a long night.
TWO
Crazy girls.
“You look awful,” Tristan says to me when I meet him for our early morning workout.
I ended up getting about two hours of sleep last night. Savannah didn’t seem at all effected by the snoring. That girl could sleep through anything.
“You sure know how to knock a girl off her feet,” I say. Sarcasm seems to flow out of me when I’m tired. “Do you say that to all the girls?”
He laughs.
I like hearing his laugh, especially after seeing how sad he was last night after bring up his family.
“You just had to give me the bodyguard who snores,” I say.
He laughs harder. “As much as I’d love to take credit for that one, it’s all on Damon.”
“Let’s hold on the training for a second,” I say, pulling out my phone.
“What are you doing?”
“Giving Damon a five a.m. wake up call,” I say, grinning mischievously.
The phone rings a few times before I hear a very sleepy, “Hello.”
“Damon Hartley,” I say, using a scolding tone. I wish I knew his middle name. “How dare you send me the bodyguard who snores.”
He starts laughing so hard that I have to pull the phone away from my ear.
Tristan, who is standing beside me, grins when he hears.
“Laugh all you want, Damon. But I will get you back,” I say, then end the call. I take off running dow
n the path, knowing that Tristan will catch up.
Now, I just need to plot my revenge.
Tristan quickly catches up with me and we do our usual Sunday work out—running five miles and then we use a punching bag. He shows me what position to put my feet in when I go to punch somebody, and he shows me how to efficiently knock somebody off their feet with my legs. Afterwards, I’m sweaty and gross.
“I think I want to teach you how to shoot a gun,” he says.
“Are you forgetting I’m from Russia?” I ask. “I know how to use a gun. Probably better than you. I’ve been shooting since I was ten years old. My dad used to take me target practicing a a few times every year.”
“That’s good,” he says. “I want to take you to a target range. I’m going to get you a conceal and carry so you can keep a gun on you.”
“How can I get a conceal and carry? I’m not even a US resident,” I say.
“Actually, you are. You officially have a dual citizenship with Russia and the US,” he says.
“Isn’t it hard to get a dual citizenship? And doesn’t that take years?”
“I work for the government. It’s amazing what I can do just spending five minutes on the computer,” he says.
“You’re scary. In a good way. I think.”
“I like my job,” he says.
“I feel sorry for any girl you date, though. You will know her life history before you even go on your first date. Kind of ruins the romantic element of surprise,” I say.
“Or, you know, it keeps me from getting stalked when I dump her in two weeks. Some girls are crazy, and I’d rather find out before than after.”
I laugh.
“Besides, I don’t date. Girls are a waste of time. Like I said, I like my job. A girlfriend would complain that I work too much. And I do, but I wouldn’t want it any other way. My job is my life,” he says.
“That’s sad. Don’t you want a wife? Kids? A family?” I ask.
“Maybe when I’m older,” he says.
“Americans are so weird,” I say, as we walk out of the gym. I was warm, but when the chill of the morning air hits me, I slip on my hoodie.
“Going to church with me?” Tristan asks, right before we part ways.
“Like always,” I answer, then walk into my dorm so I can get a shower.
I wonder why he’s leaving me alone, then I realize I’m being followed by another one of Damon’s bodyguards. Joy.
You can’t turn down Prince Charming.
That night, I decide that I need to get out of my dorm room. And away from bodyguards, even though I know that isn’t going to happen. Not really. But I go to the party on the soccer fields. Maybe I can pretend they’re not following my every step.
Savannah stays in the dorm to study for a test she has tomorrow, so I just go alone. Well, as alone as I can be with somebody following me. Damon said he’s going too and will meet me there.
“I bet you think you’re so special, don’t you?” a redheaded girl, I think Camille is her name, says to me as I’m walking to join the party. “You’re dating Damon Hartley, so now you have to have bodyguards. Nobody even knows who you are. Just some random girl from Russia. You’re not even American.”
“Damon and I aren’t dating,” I tell her, not unkindly. I don’t want to pick a fight with her, even though it’s obvious that is what she’s trying to start.
“But you’re going to homecoming together,” she says.
“Yeah,” I answer. “But that’s it. We’re friends. And I don’t have a bodyguard because of him. A guy that my dad works with is…” crazy. Psycho. “Stalking me.” It’s true. “He actually followed me to America. Until he’s gone, Damon is letting me use one of his bodyguards.”
“Oh,” she says, looking deflated.
“No hard feelings,” I tell her. “But let me give you some advice. Damon might be the president’s son, but he’s a normal guy. Treat him that way and I bet you guys would be friends too.”
“Wow. Thanks. You’re not so bad. For a Russian.”
“Thanks.” I think.
“I’ve seen you running a lot with Tristan. Is he your boyfriend?” she asks.
“No,” I say, wanting to laugh, but I don’t. Dating Tristan would be like dating my brother. Kind of. Tristan is cute, but way too old for me. She can’t know that though. She thinks he’s a senior. “Tristan and I just like working out together.”
“What about those other two boys you eat with in the dining hall? The nerdy ones,” she says.
“Kaiden and Madox,” I say. “And definitely not. We’re all just friends.”
“Then who are you dating?”
“Nobody.”
“Huh,” she says. “Well, who do you want to date?”
“How old are you?” I ask the girl.
“I’m fifteen. Freshman,” she answers.
Was I that boy crazy at fifteen?
Okay, okay. So it was only a year ago, but it feels like a lot longer.
A year ago, I was following Eduard around. I guess I sort of had a crush on his best friend. I haven’t spoken to him since the accident, and I’m not sure that I want to talk to him again. It would bring up too many bad memories.
“You’re sixteen, right?” she asks.
I nod. “I’ll be seventeen in December.”
“Awesome,” she says. “I will be sixteen in March and I can’t wait. My daddy already promised he’d buy me a convertible. I’m thinking red. Do you think I’d look good in a red convertible?”
I look at the girl, wanting to tell her she’s crazy.
But she’s only fifteen. And her life is obviously a good one. She has a lot of reason to be happy.
“Red is definitely your color,” I say, noticing her red shirt.
“Thanks,” she says. “Blue is your color. But not dark blue. I saw you wearing that dark dress the other day and you totes looked like a vampire. Not that your pale skin isn’t gorgeous. But you should stick with lighter colors of blue—like your eyes color.”
Huh.
Maybe I do like her.
“Thanks, Camille.”
“No problem,” she says. “Just so you know, I’ve noticed the way you look at that Tristan guy. I know he’s, like, way super gorgeous, but hello, Damon is the president’s son. You can’t turn down Prince Charming. I know Damon likes you.”
The way I look at Tristan?
“I don’t look at Tristan in any particular way.”
“Yeah you do. Good luck with your boy drama,” she says, then runs over to a group of her friends. All of them look at me, but quickly turn their attention to something behind me. I turn around to see what they’re looking at.
Or better yet, who they’re looking at.
Damon walks towards me, his bodyguards following close behind. They’re all on high alert tonight, not that I can blame them. Yesterday was a scary day. Not to mention the fact that Kazimir got away. He’s probably out there, somewhere, watching us from the tree line.
A shiver runs through my body as I look at the darkness.
“Hey,” Damon says, walking up to me. He is a huge smile on his face, and I like to think that I’m the reason for that smile.
“Hi.”
“I can’t believe Tristan let you come out here tonight. I figured he’d have you on lock down,” he says.
“Tristan doesn’t know I’m here,” I say. “But it’s okay. I’ve got Marcus.”
I point to the bodyguard that Damon loaned me. I wonder if he’s going to sleep on my floor tonight. If he does, I hope he doesn’t snore.
At least Tristan isn’t sleeping on my floor. That would be awkward. At least all of Damon’s bodyguards are all old enough to be my dad and I definitely don’t find any of them attractive. Like, at all. Yuck.
Except Camille was wrong. I don’t find Tristan attractive. Well, okay, he’s attractive. In a hot older guy kind of way.
Suddenly, I think of Dimitri and Elana. He’s twenty two and she’s eighteen.
Not much difference between Tristan and me. But that doesn’t matter, because Damon is the guy that I like. I’m excited to go to the dance with him next weekend.
Also, Damon is here with me now. And he really likes me. I know that he does.
“I would get onto you for leaving your dorm and not telling Tristan, but I’m glad you’re here,” he says. “Does the fact that I’m not forcing you go back make me selfish?”
“Naw. You know I’m too stubborn to go,” I say.
“That’s true,” he says. “Plus, you could probably kick my butt. Which is sad to admit out loud. My future girlfriend is a better fighter than me.”
I grin at his future-girlfriend comment.
“Maybe we can try for three miles this week,” I say. “Then you’ll only be two miles away from training with us.”
“Maybe,” he says. “I just worry that my presence will be a distraction for you when you’re training.”
I laugh, knowing he’s joking.
“So, I noticed you didn’t roll your eyes at my future girlfriend comment,” he says. “Does that mean that maybe you’d consider making it official?”
“Damon Hartley, you haven’t even taken me out on a date,” I say, putting my hands on my hips. “I’m not going to be the girlfriend of somebody that I’ve never even been out on a date with.”
“Can I?” he asks. “Take you out on a date, I mean.”
He actually looks nervous, which makes him ten times more adorable. There is no way I could say no to him. Not that I want to.
“I would like to go out on a date with you.”
He smiles big and his grey eyes light up, like maybe he wasn’t sure if I would say yes. But how could he not see how much I like him? I’ve been attracted to him since I first laid eyes on him.
My brother Eduard always told me that I wear my heart on my sleeve. I think he said that because he knew I had a crush on his best friend. But maybe since Eduard died, I don’t express my feelings as well. Something in me changed the night I lost him and I know that I will never be the same girl I was before. I’m not sure I want to be the same girl. That Katerina was a normal sixteen year old. She giggled a lot, spent way too much time on social media, and thought boys were everything. Now I realize that life is complicated and hard. Things don’t always turn out like you expect them to, and sometimes people die unexpectedly and way too young.
Luck Page 2
