Page 29

“Sometimes it was for food. Most of the time it was for drugs.”

“Okay,” I say as if I’m not impressed. As if that’s as cute as what he claims my darkest secret is.

“I’d only ever let guys blow me, but one night, this guy offered me two hundred bucks and a hit of crack if I let him rub his cock against my ass. He reeked of BO and had black, rotted teeth that smelled like death. I was certain he hadn’t showered in at least a week.”

“But you said yes,” I say, still sounding unimpressed, even as my chest tightens.

“Yes.” He steps up to my back, hovering his hands beside my shoulders. Almost touching, but not quite. Like he’s uncertain. Like he’s ashamed.

“We drove out by the lake, and he gave me the hit ahead of time… I don’t know what I was thinking.

I mean I wasn’t, I was high as shit, but I still should’ve seen what was coming.

He beat the shit out of me before he raped and left me stranded on the side of a dirt road.

I remember looking up at the stars and wishing I’d die.

I just laid there praying a car would come and run me over, but it didn’t, and I got tired of waiting. ”

He brings his hands back, the tension they caused my shoulders retreating. I wish he’d put them back. I wish I’d turn around. But I’m just stuck, my ears buzzing as I concentrate on his voice.

“So I got up and walked down a path until I was on a cliff overlooking the lake. I was so wasted I knew I wouldn’t be able to swim to shore, so I just … let myself fall.”

He doesn’t go on. I think that’s the end of the story, but if it was, he’d be lying in a numbered grave next to the rest of the unclaimed bodies.

Slowly, I turn, keeping my face a blank mask, though I get the sudden urge to hug him. He doesn’t look affected by this. He looks empty, but I know that’s far from the truth.

I abandoned him just like he knew I would. He was seventeen then, a year before emancipating.

What could his life have looked like if I had been there for him?

He must’ve asked himself the same question. I picture him seeing me after years have passed, and his hatred makes more sense. I did nothing to him. Nothing for him. No one did. That’s the point.

“What happened next?” I ask, my voice small.

He lifts a shoulder like it hardly matters.

“A guy jumped in after me and pulled me to shore. Gave me CPR. He brought me home with him and tied me to a bed for a week just to force me sober. I thought he was a serial killer for the first several days, but when I came out of it, I was grateful. He let me crash for a while, gave me some new clothes, got me a job. Showed me how to shoot a gun. He was Bratva, so… That’s how that happened. ”

“What was his name?” I ask, though I already know. I don’t know how, I just … do.

“Luka.”

I nod at the confirmation, my lungs feeling shrunken.

I’m sorry . I have the urge to say it, but it would reek of pity. I know Arseni well enough to know it’s the last thing he would want.

“I never told him what happened before he found me that night,” he goes on. “You’re the only person who knows.”

My lips lower into a frown while I move my gaze to his hands, wishing I was courageous enough to hold them. I know what he’s saying to me.

See? I care.

My chest feels full, so full it pushes up into my throat until it feels like I’ve swallowed a frog.

“The truth is, Margot, I’m a broken fucking mess.

I live in a dirty trailer, drive a car with a floorboard you can’t even see because it’s so full of trash.

I have no real friends. No family. Every time I see a stranger who even slightly resembles me, I wonder if they’re one of my parents.

I’ve only felt like family to someone once in my life and got burned.

The idea of letting anyone close scares the shit out of me.

“The way I feel about you scares the shit out of me. Because I know I’m not good enough for you, and I know you must see that.

The second you stop needing me for survival, I’m gonna be some wet dream you run away from, and I deserve that.

I do. But what I’m feeling for you is not lust, and I can’t let you lock yourself in the basement thinking it is. ”

Brown eyes shine at me with so much sincerity, so much earnestness that I feel myself leaning Arseni’s way, as if he’s pulling me toward him.

“Arseni,” I whisper, though I don’t know what else to say.

You’re not a wet dream.

You’re not a mess.

You’re just broken. You’re beautifully shattered into a thousand pieces that sparkle like diamonds, and all I want more than anything in the world is to put those pieces back together. I want to hold you and kiss you and love you the way you try to make me love myself.

I want you.

Trash and all.

I can’t say any of that. I don’t have enough air in my lungs to try.

So instead, I just push onto my toes to kiss him, softly weaving my hands around his neck. He takes my waist and guides me to the wall while his tongue strokes mine.

Too many times he’s brought my body pleasure against my will, but this time I can’t say he’s even trying.

There’s nothing sexual about the way he kisses me.

Nothing hurried. It’s an end to a first date make out, and it just occurs to me in this moment that that’s exactly what he tried to make this night. A date. Our first date.

I ruined it with my self-consciousness.

But then again, I didn’t. This is better than polite conversation and a candle-lit burnt dinner. This is real.

Not lust. Not a dirty fantasy. But real.

Finally, I know what to say.

I break away from him, my arms still snug around his neck.

“I’ve never felt closer to anyone in my life,” I whisper, inhaling cologne special for this occasion. “I’ve never felt more understood… You’re a fantasy, Arseni, but not in the way you fear.”

You’re the man of my dreams.

The chaos that broke up my rigid life.

The haven I can lie with.

The freeing of my soul.

“I care about your past,” I add, my voice still pillowy soft. “I care about everything you are and everything you’ve ever been, but I care about your future even more.”

“I care about yours too.”

“I know.” I nod, my eyes stinging. “That’s why you’re going to let me go.”

His gaze breaks away from me as he tucks my hair behind my ears.

My eyes close as he kisses me, his hands smoothing down my body to rest on my hips. I don’t interrupt the kiss again. Neither of us say a word as we slowly undress each other, handling each article of clothing with care.

I whisper his name as he fucks me against the wall, and he peppers kisses to my neck. When I come, he squeezes me like my pleasure is his. When he comes, I do the same.

Afterward, he takes me upstairs and lays me in his bed, snuggling his front against my back.

The light is off, and my energy is spent.

I can feel myself falling asleep, and he must be able to sense it too.

Because the words he whispers as he strokes my hair are so full, so agonized like an admittance of some sort, that I’m certain he isn’t saying them for me to hear. I’m certain he thinks I’m asleep.

“ I love you .”