Page 10

STEFANOS

OMG you have an annoying roommate too? Mine is so rude. I try and be nice to him, but he just… idk, it’s like I can’t do anything right. Maybe I just need to give him some space? Anyway, I’m good. I got my stuff from my ex’s and now I’m trying to make a fresh start.

Did you read any good books lately?

I think Alexei’s left early again when I wake up and find the kitchen and living room empty, so I don’t even try to be quiet. But when he comes out of his room, rubbing his eyes like a bear with a sore head, I almost jump out of my skin.

“Sorry, I didn’t know you were still here.”

I ready myself for the onslaught, but he just grunts and gestures towards the coffee machine.

“Oh yeah, I made coffee.”

He actually lets me pour him one. I hand it to him, and he takes a sip without saying anything. It’s not until he sits down and takes his second sip that he becomes verbal.

“Thanks, not a morning person, sorry.”

Not a morning person? Not a mid-day or afternoon or evening or night person either. Well, at least he said sorry. That’s a start.

“It’s okay.”

I leave a space between us before sitting down. Everything I do seems to annoy him, and the closer I am to him, the more annoying I am if the look on his face is anything to go by. I’m starting to think I smell bad or something.

The silence drags on for so long I have to fill it, even if it does annoy him.

“So what are your plans for the day?”

“Practice, class, library, you?”

“Same… I mean, not hockey practice, but, you know.”

He puts his coffee down and I expect him to get up and walk away or go and make a smoothie or whatever it is hockey players do in the morning, but he stays sitting there.

“Where’s your parents’ restaurant at?”

It takes me a beat to answer. “It’s in Queens.”

“Let me guess, Astoria right?”

“Yeah, how did you-”

“All the best Greek joints are in Astoria, everyone knows that.”

I narrow my eyes. “Are you from Queens?”

“Brooklyn.”

“Ooh, we’re getting all West Side Story up in here.”

He frowns at me like I’m the biggest idiot in the world.

“Just kidding.”

“No I know it’s just…” he shakes his head. “You do know that Queens V Brooklyn has nothing to with… never mind.”

I’m not about to get into an argument about West Side Story with him, so I change the subject. “Whereabouts in Brooklyn are you from?”

“Do you know Brighton Beach?”

“No, but I’ve heard of it. Coney Island way right?”

“Sure, yeah.”

“What are you gonna do when you finish college? Go and play in the NHL or whatever?”

Something flashes across his face and I wish I hadn’t opened my big stupid mouth. But he recovers quickly.

“No, actually, I’m doing a finance degree, I’m looking for work placements in banks after graduation.”

“You wanna go work in a bank?”

“Nobody wants to work in a bank.” He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Surely someone wants to work in a bank?”

He just death stares me.

“I guess it pays better than hockey?” I thought professional sports were one of the best paying professions in the world, but what do I know?

“It pays better than minor league hockey, yeah.”

Ah, okay, raw nerve, sore spot, got it.

“Well… I’m sure it’ll be exciting, working in the city. You can be one of those guys in the Armani suits who walk past wafting Tom Ford cologne everywhere they go, you know? Talking on their cellphones about business deals and-”

“Everybody hates those guys.”

“Yeah, but only because they’re jealous of how rich they are. Imagine being so rich that people wanna punch you?”

He lets out a breath of a laugh through his nose. “I guess.”

He gets up to rinse his coffee cup out and I try not to look at the way his ass looks in his sleep shorts.

“I’m gonna put the blender on now, is that okay?”

“Sure, it’s your apartment.”

“No.” He turns to face me. “It’s our apartment.”

Oh. Why do I feel all warm at that? It is our apartment, I’m paying rent. But still, the ice king just thawed a little.

“I’m going over to the music department now to practice my violin, so I’ll see you later maybe?”

He’s already distracted, peeling a banana to put in the blender, so he just grunts in response. But before I reach my room, he calls me back.

“I forgot, my teammate wanted me to ask you if Alice is single.”

“Alice?”

“Yeah.” That’s what I said dumb-ass, his face says. “Has she got a boyfriend? Or a… whatever.”

“A girlfriend?”

He blushes and turns back to the blender.

“Um, yeah.”

“No, she doesn’t have a boyfriend, or a girlfriend. She’s straight.”

He rips into a bag of spinach. “So will you ask her if she’d be into going out with a hockey player? He’s a good guy. He won’t mess her around or anything. I wouldn’t have asked you if he was an asshole.”

I think about Alice describing hockey players as thugs who run around bashing each other into things and shouting protein! It’s hard to keep the smile off my face when I tell him, “sure, I’ll ask.”

“Thanks. His name’s Mischa, Mischa Pawlowski”

Alice is waiting for me outside the music building. A fine sheen of frost covering the grass around her boots. The end of her nose is rosy from the cold and I’m struck again by how beautiful she is.

I ask her if she managed to get that trumpet part she was struggling with for the Brahms piece and I listen until she starts getting technical about trumpet tones and mouthpieces, and then she’s lost me.

“So!?” She says when she’s finished.

“So what?”

“How is it? Living with Captain America?”

I roll my eyes. “He is not Captain America. He’s way too moody and…” I can’t think of any other way in which he’s not like Captain America.

“Maybe he’s just shy,” she teases, reminding me of my lame excuses for Dorian’s rudeness. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring that asshole up.”

“It’s fine.”

Alice’s boots crunch over the frost and I wish I’d worn sturdier shoes than my Converse. I can already feel the moisture seeping into the canvas and making my socks wet.

“Has he tried to contact you since you got your stuff?”

“I don’t know, I blocked his number remember?”

“But he hasn’t tried to get to you through any of your friends?”

My heart sinks. He hasn’t. And neither have any of our ‘friends’ contacted me to see if I’m okay either. Not even Eve.

“No, maybe they’re all just trying to stay out of it.”

Alice loops her arm through mine and gives me a squeeze.

“Fuck them, you don’t need those rich assholes. You’ve got me.”

“Alice, your parents are corporate lawyers.”

“So you can have one rich asshole friend, you don’t need any more.”

“Oh my God, I almost forgot.” I stop dead, bringing Alice up with me.

“What?”

“Alexei wanted me to ask you out for one of his friends.”

She blows a raspberry. “Yeah right, like who?”

The name has completely escaped me. I was probably too busy trying not to stare at Alexei’s biceps in his t-shirt while he talked.

“He had like a Polish or a Russian name or something,” I snap my fingers. “Mischa I think?”

Her head snaps back and her eyebrows shoot up. “Mikhail “Mischa” Pawlowski? From the hockey team?”

“Yeah, that’s him.”

She’s definitely gone red now. “Are you sure?”

“I’m positive. He said Mischa asked him to ask me if you were single because he wants to ask you out, and that he’s not an asshole, otherwise he wouldn’t have asked.”

The – excitement? I think – has faded from Alice’s face as she steps back in beside me and picks up our walk. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t have to-”

“I mean, I’ve seen him playing hockey, he’s really good, and I did think he looked up into the stands an unusual amount but, oh god, has he only ever seen me in my band clothes? Do you think he has like a fetish for that sort of thing? Like a music nerd fetish? Is that a thing?”

“Alice, stop, you’re spiraling.”

She lets out a big breath. “You’re right. Okay, I’ll go if you go.”

“You’ll go where if I go?”

“On a date, with Mischa Pawlowski.”

A laugh splutters out of me. “Alice, I can’t go on your date with you, you’re 21-years old, it’ll be weird.”

“No it won’t, not if it’s a double date.”

“Who are we double dating with?”

“Alexei.”

I stop dead again. “Alexei isn’t into men.”

“He doesn’t have to be. It can be a friendly date between you two and a romantic date between me and Mischa.” Her lips quirk up at that last part.

“I didn’t know you had a crush on a hockey player. I thought they were all balls of testosterone going around shouting ‘protein!’”

“Neither did I until you just told me he has a crush on me. Now I kind of like the idea.”

She stops in front of me and starts tugging my arm. “Steffy, please! When do I ever ask you for anything? And it might be fun.”

I do not want to go on a date-not-really-date with a hockey player/my roommate who seems to strongly dislike me, but then, I’m betting neither does he. There’s a very easy way to get out of this without making Alice mad at me.

“I’ll go if Alexei agrees to it.”

“Yay! Thank you, you’re the best.” She starts kissing my face and I feel kinda guilty, knowing Alexei is obviously going to say no.

“Sure I’ll go.”

“What!?”

Alexei was home when I got back to the apartment, sitting at the kitchen table with a stack of books and a pot of coffee. And I did not expect him to say yes to this thing.

“I said I’ll go, I’ll just let Mischa know. And it’ll have to be through the week or a Sunday because we’ve got back-to-back games against Quinnipiac this weekend.”

“Oh um… okay.”

“It’s just chaperoning their date right?” he asks, looking up like he’s missed something.

Chaperoning? Okay, I’ll go with that. “Yeah.”

“So, you take one for the team.”

Wow, charming.

“Great, I’ll let Alice know.”

“Cool, and ask her where she wants to go, Mischa’s hopeless at that shit.”

“You know she’ll probably force us to go and listen to heavy metal music.”

He shrugs, still distracted by all the work he has laid out in front of him and jittery from what looks like his third cup of coffee.

I spend the rest of the night in a very one-sided conversation with Alice about date venues and potential outfits and if I think this guy I’ve never seen is cute. I end up saying yes, because if the whole hockey team looks anything like Alexei, then the guy could probably be immortalized in marble.