Page 9

The rain hadn’t let up all day. I remembered the sound of it, how it clattered against the tin roof of our crappy little apartment like it was trying to punch holes through it.

I was curled up on the couch with a blanket that smelled faintly of too many years of use, halfway through a mug of instant coffee that didn’t even pretend to be good.

Someone knocked on the door.

Rapid, urgent short raps. I even remembered frowning, setting the mug down on the stained coffee table, and tiptoeing to the door. No one ever came by unannounced to our apartment.

Mama didn’t even have friends like that….

When I opened it, the world outside was a burst of grey and water, but Katya was crystal clear.

She was soaked through, her hoodie hanging limp and heavy around her shoulders, dark hair plastered to her face. Her arms were wrapped tightly around herself like she was holding her own body together. But it was her eyes that got me. They were red, swollen, and teary.

“Kat? What are you doing here? Come, come inside. How did you even get here?”

“I kinda snuck out. The bodyguards don’t know, and they’ll get in so much trouble when he finds….” She paused. “But I don’t care. I—I couldn’t sleep.” Her voice cracked. “The house…it was empty, and I felt alone. Really lonely.”

I pulled her in without another word. The door slammed shut behind us, muffling the roar of the storm, but Katya was still shaking like it was storming inside her.

We sat on the couch, and I wrapped that old blanket around both of us. I started to ask about her family. I had always been curious about why she never talked about her parents, despite never lacking anything. But the distance in her gaze made me stop poking.

After a few minutes, she started to talk anyway.

“My mom died,” she whispered, not looking at me. “Giving birth to me.”

It felt as though all the air had been sucked out of the room.

“And my papa…he left when I was ten. Just disappeared like I meant nothing.”

That was all she said before her voice broke, and I didn’t realize I was holding her until my shoulder felt damp with her tears.

She didn’t cry loudly, but the shaking intensified, as if each sob was an aftershock of something deeper. I didn’t say anything. What do you say to that? I just held her, letting her know she wasn’t alone tonight.

After a long while, when the rain outside had calmed down and I had gotten her one of my extra PJs, she pulled back just enough to look at me.

“You know,” she said, her lips trembling into a fragile smile, “sometimes, I think I’m only half a person…but when I’m with you, it’s like the other half shows up, too. I’m lucky to have you, Elena.”

I had no words to say, so all I could do was hold her tighter.

***

Damien, you are electric.

Seriously ?

As a smart, intelligent woman, that was the best shot I could come up with, likening a complete stranger to intense voltage and sparks of bolts?

I was so out of the game, I hadn’t even made an attempt to learn how to play.

God, how naive could a person be?

I groaned, rubbing my temple while glaring at the reflections of tall bright buildings and city lights rolling through the glass windows as the Lyft went further downtown.

But that was just it, wasn’t it?

After quirky interactions that lasted for less than an hour and recklessly letting myself go in his strong, muscular arms, nothing about him felt alien—not his firm bow lips, his hard body pressed on mine, or his fierce touch.

The fire radiating from him burned me, incinerated every inch of my reservations until my soul was bare before him to do as he pleased.

I threw a quick glance at the rear-view mirror to make sure the driver had his eyes on the road and slowly snuck my thumb to my lips, the same thumb he’d wrapped with the warmth of his tongue. And till now, the pressure of his lips and teeth had lingered on my skin.

A rise of goosebumps awakened on my flesh, and I shuddered.

Growing up, I’d had my fair share of rom-coms from novels and movies; I’d read and watched sexual acts that went darker than Fifty Shades of Grey. However, what happened in the books and movies remained there.

That was until Damien and his shocking aura appeared from nowhere, literally pulling me off my feet and whisking me away like chaff in the wind. He was the strangest and yet most sensual thing I’d ever experienced firsthand.

“Ma’am, we’re here.”

The driver’s brittle voice forced me to refocus, and that was when I saw that the reflections of city lights were gone, and outside stood the sturdy structure of my apartment building.

I cinched my blazer tighter, swiped on Venmo to send the tip, stumbled out of the car, and went up to the apartment, swaying slightly.

Whether it was as a result of the influence of the alcohol or being drunk by the Damien effect, I couldn’t decipher.

Kicking off my shoes, I closed the door quietly behind me and slid the jingling bunch of keys into my purse.

Nana and Jaz were already fast asleep, but they’d left some mac and cheese leftovers in the microwave.

A smile touched my lips. They could be out in the cold and starving, with only one loaf of bread to survive, but they would always keep a slice for me and rip a strip from the blanket, if it meant I could be shielded from the cold, too.

I took out the leftovers from the microwave. It smelled good, but I craved a full cup of steamy, creamy coffee to clear my head.

I grabbed a cup, some ground coffee from the cabinet, and milk, and set the water on the stove, but didn’t move away from the counter.

My fingernails dug into the marble edge as memories of the night flashed through my mind in palpitating beats, all of them including the hunky man with alluring ocean-blue eyes and the moments we’d shared.

First, it was the gravelly sound of his voice breathing in my ear when he slammed me against the door, and then the sharp sting of his nails marking my thighs.

Heat crept up my neck, and I rubbed it down, twisting my head to the side when I remembered how perfectly we molded into each other against that door.

Then more flashes came when he blurted out a question about my age, asked me to cover up, and proudly announced that he was not the man for me. Or maybe what he meant was that I was not the woman for him. Either way, he was rude, overly confident, and arrogant. And it irked me.

I sighed.

If I could, I would pinch myself from the immense shame I felt after freely granting him access to trample on my vulnerability and, worse, how I couldn’t shut off my brain from replaying his handsomeness.

The moment I saw his entire figure under the light, one look should have been enough to convince me that Damien was far beyond my league in every way .

The faint lines etched between his forehead and his masterful kissing skills told of his life’s experience being, maybe ten to twelve years ahead of mine. And where physical looks were concerned, his attractiveness came hard, like the Russian that freely flowed off his tongue.

It was far more advanced than Peter Pan’s cuteness, and now I was left to manage my crush on a creation that even a taller version of Henry Cavill couldn’t compete with.

Broad, powerful shoulders. Firm, defined muscles. Short, dark hair reminiscent of classic medieval times. And intriguing tattoos that sparked my curiosity.

The man was literally every woman’s wet dream.

If we’d risked having another kiss session, the heavens knew keeping my virginity would have been the least of my concerns seconds later.

I wanted to tell somebody about him. Somebody who was preferably Katya, but I hadn’t seen her before I left the Gipsy and assumed she went home with the cute man from the bar. It wasn’t Katya’s style to follow strangers home, but she seemed to be really into him, so the thought wasn’t far-fetched.

On the stove, the kettle whistled, and I started brewing the coffee when a rapt knock startled me. It was past midnight, and I never entertained visitors at odd hours. With the crazy crime stories that flew around the city, who would?

Swiftly, I grabbed a spatula and padded toward the door, standing at arm’s length to open it.

Katya breezed inside, trudging to the sofa with almost no regard for me by the door. I had never seen her look so disheveled and upset before. The Katya I knew was a warrior. She was resilient, feisty, and never a blubbering, sobbing mess.

That was not the case now. She was shaking like a leaf and crying hysterically. Two streams of black mascara smudged her cheeks, and her hair seemed to have housed birds for a short while. Seeing her like this left me feeling utterly helpless.

She hiccupped and buried her face in her hands. “Lena, I…I need you.”

I rushed to her side and hugged her to my chest, soothing her.

“Hey, hey…shh, come here. Kat, what’s wrong? What happened? Was it….” I swallowed. I didn’t want to, but my mind had already begun conjuring the worst possible scenarios that could have thrown her in such a devastated state.

“Was it that man from the bar? Did he do something to you?” I whispered.

I was no lawyer, but I was sure Kat had an army of them that would rise up to defend her if something terrible happened. And if all the help I could offer were to scratch someone’s eyes out, then I would do it in a heartbeat for her.

Kat shook her head, and I released a brief sigh of relief. No lawyers, court, or threats of prison. Great.

“No…no, it wasn’t.” Katya raised her face and looked at me, her eyes red and bubbles of snot running down her nose.

I reached for the Kleenex on the centerpiece and handed the box to her while she talked.

“It was him.” She paused, blowing her nose. “It was my father. He’s back.”

She burst into another round of tears, and I did the only thing I could: I held her tight and tried to comfort her, although I knew nothing I did in this moment could take her pain away.

“For more than eleven years, Lena, I haven’t seen him, and then he chose to show up in the place I least expected. Can you imagine? The club, while I was dancing with Liam!”

If that dance had continued like anything I imagined after I left the two of them alone, then the sight of a father watching his daughter immorally grind against a stranger was certainly not the ideal welcome-home gift he expected.

I shook off the cringeworthy feeling and focused on comforting my friend.

“I don’t know what to do. I’m not sure how to handle this. I thought I’d be fine if I ever saw again, but it’s like all the anger I kept bottled in came rushing back to the surface. I’m so hurt and confused….”

Almost everyone close to Kat was aware of the complicated relationship she had with her father, but she withheld details when it came to discussions about him.

It had been that way since high school, so I didn’t know the background story behind their fractured relationship, but knew enough to notice the contented resentment she had toward him.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered into her hair, holding her tighter and stroking her back. “I’m so sorry.”

The rest of the night was spent hugging and softly talking Katya to sleep.

She lay on my lap, and there was a subtle ache in my chest as I watched her chest rise and fall slowly.

This was due not only to her hurt but also to the realization that I hadn’t been grateful enough for having Jaz and Nana to support me through my mother’s illness.

Katya’s mom was gone. She was the only child. And her father, who should have been her superhero, was the same person causing her such heartache.

Telling her about Damien could wait for another week until she’d come to terms with her father being back in the city. Now was not the time to think about me or my problems.

I brushed unruly dark strands away from her face and sniffled back tears I hadn’t realized I was holding.

Maybe I didn’t have the world at my feet yet, and maybe it would take a while before I got liver donors and sponsors for my mother. But right now, all I could think about was the joy coursing through me.

The joy that Katya had me to help her through hard times like these.

“Goodnight, Kat.” I smiled at her sleeping form. “I’m so glad we’re friends.”