I lose my appetite, shutting my plastic container.
“What’s going on there?” Sergei motions between Luka and me with a fork. The chairs aren’t really even in rows anymore; we all sit in jagged lines, faced towards one another.
“Nothing,” Luka and I say in unison.
Sergei’s brows jump. “Sounds like something to me.” He aggravatingly digs into his chicken. Maybe he’s remembering that Luka called him a piece of shit while defending me.
“If no one’s going to say it, I will,” Brenden starts.
My eyes widen. “No, Brenden.”
“Yes,” he retorts. “Do you even remember what happened, Bay?” His voice is soft but also condescending.
“Yeah, I do. I lived it.” My neck heats at all the pierced gazes on me. I don’t like this. I don’t want to do this. “Please, Brenden, stop.”
He does stop out of respect for me, but Sergei apparently wants to guess now. “You two had a falling out?” Sergei speculates. “You got in trouble somehow?”
Luka shakes Hot Tamales into his mouth, not saying a word. Looking nonchalant about everything, but his muscles are flexed.
“No one’s going to say anything?” Sergei questions like we’re all acting suspicious.
Thora raises her hands. “I’m new. I mean, sort of.”
“What were you doing with all those forms anyway?” Brenden asks, finding a way to dodge the subject.
Thank you.
“I just completed the Wellness Program,” she says. “Technically I did a short version before I first auditioned, but I didn’t land the job back then. Since they hired me on, they wanted a full physical.” Thora drums her paperback and adds, “Oh, I’m all clear. In case you were curious or whatever…” She trails off and makes a face like she sucks at talking.
When we first met, I thought she disliked me, but she shook my hand for an awkward beat too long, actually admitted to being kind of awkward, and said she has RBF. Then Thora asked if I needed anything from the drugstore. She was about to make a quick stop for bathroom essentials.
She also tripped on her way out.
In a one-second meeting, I determined that I liked Nikolai’s girlfriend—maybe even more than I like Nik.
Sergei kicks the leg of Luka’s chair, stealing his attention. “Honesty is important between partners.” Great, he’s back to our secret. “So what’s going on here?” He gestures again. From me to Luka. From Luka to me.
Luka looks to Dimitri.
Sergei glowers. “Why are you turning to him?”
“Cool it, Serg,” Dimitri says huskily.
“That’s my brother, not yours.” Sergei stabs his fork in his chicken breast. “Don’t tell me to cool it.”
“Stop,” Luka breathes.
No one hears him.
“I’ve been nothing but nice to you,” Dimitri growls. “Don’t start with me.”
“You’re petty. You’ve always been that way,” Sergei says like it’s written in stone, but it’s not. “You’re still bitter that I nicknamed Nikolai the God of Russia, and it caught on. Or is it deeper? Is it that, as hard as you try, you’ll never measure up to him or to me?”
Dimitri looks murderous, face blood-red. Two controlled breaths later, he growls, “I don’t fight with family. So either you find Oz and grow a motherfucking brain or I’m leaving you with your stupid thoughts.”
“It hurts because I’m right,” Sergei says pointedly.
Dimitri kicks off his chair, and it folds into itself. “Sorry, Zhen. I’m not sticking around for this shit show.” He picks up his water bottle and glances at Luka. “You’re on your own, kid.”
He’s been on his own. It’s not like Dimitri offers security all the time. It’s mostly an illusion. It exists in theory, but not reality. Not when Luka has needed it.
The door slams closed.
Dimitri is gone, and in his absence, the room weighs down like a hundred tons. I feel Luka eyeing me and my untouched food. He’d normally lean on the legs of his chair, hike his feet up on another seat—but he’s too uncomfortable. Like me.
Sergei won’t stop digging. “Why is it a secret?”
Luka explodes. “We got caught, okay! Leave it alone.” He rocks forward, elbows on his knees.
My stomach cramps. You can’t tell him the truth.
You can’t tell him the truth.
No one can know.
Sergei frowns. “Not until you tell me—”
“Cocaine.” Luka glares. “Stop pressing.”
I try to let out a breath.
“Cocaine? You can’t do drugs, Luka.” Sergei goes off on a tirade, yelling at Luka about the consequences of cocaine use. Upset about our past that’s an utter lie.
Luka buries his face in his hands.
Sergei has reason to be concerned. Drugs are a serious issue—one that we both disliked using as a front. Back then, we felt like we had no choice.
The long-winded rant ends when the lecturer arrives. Toting a briefcase, the mousy man apologizes for being late and struts to the front of the conference room. He’s not alone.
Dimitri returns and plops down on a front seat, arms crossed. I’m not that surprised. This is a mandatory AE function, and he made a promise to Zhen to take the seminar to heart. The good inside of Dimitri can outweigh his short temper.
I have so much trouble paying attention.
I zone out most of the seminar. Even when the lecturer hands us packets to fill out, I forget to write my name in one of the blanks. He reminds me when I turn it in.
Officially, I’m in the worst kind of trance. I feel inside-out and winded. I try to eat my grilled cheese, but it goes down like a lump.
“You’re all free to leave,” the lecturer tells us.
I check the time on my cell. It’s already 10 p.m. and everyone files out quickly. I move so slowly it’s almost annoying in my head, but my body and mind don’t seem to be in sync.
“You coming with?” Brenden asks me, just as I exit onto the third-floor lounge area: couches, a coffee bar—that sort of thing.
I rest against the wall. “Where are you going?”
Zhen already strolls to the gold elevators.
The concern on my brother’s face could fill the Pacific Ocean. “To the suites.”
I’m afraid if I go to bed at this very moment, I’ll never want to get up. “Later. I think I’ll get a coffee or something first.”
“I can stay. If you need company—”
“No, it’s okay.” I really don’t want to be alone, but I can’t look at Brenden right now without seeing the lie I told him years ago. “You go on without me.”
Brenden hesitates, conflicted, but after a long moment, he leaves for the elevators.
I clutch my journal to my chest, and when I glance to the right—I spot Luka at a brass water fountain. He pretends to take a sip, but he’s clearly watching my brother depart.
When Brenden slips inside the elevator, Luka straightens up and heads over to me.
He sees my expression. Sees my sadness and pain.
His stride is unwavering. Strong and certain. I need him. And I can’t fake it anymore. I can’t act like I don’t miss him. I can’t act like he’s meant nothing to me these past four years.
My heart is hollow in his absence. I feel despair.
He approaches me, no reservations. No reluctance. He’s a foot away, and my chest collapses as his hands rise—he touches me.
Luka holds my cheeks, my face, and his body heat warms every inch of me. I clutch his waist and look up.
Luka dips his head down, our breaths trapped. Our lips a kiss away. Deeply, he whispers, “Let me take you somewhere, please.” Please.
Hold me.
Touch me.
Kiss me. I ache to bridge the space between us, but we can’t kiss in this hotel. Being this close, we’re already risking more than we ever have.
I nod more than once, and his hand falls to my hand, interlacing our fingers. Tenderly and discreetly, he kisses the top of my hand, and then he leads me out of the hotel.
I’m in a daze again.
This time, I feel like I’m dreaming.
Act Seventeen Luka Kotova