With a sigh, I reluctantly left the couch and threw back on my dress from last night. When I reached the front door, I paused. After some deliberation, I sent Dmitri a text letting him know I’d be back later.
When I arrived in Central Park, Natalya eyed my rumpled dress underneath the jacket I’d ‘borrowed’ from Dmitri’s closet. Thankfully, she didn’t comment on the fact that I was wearing a sequined dress in the middle of the afternoon. Granted, she probably assumed I’d just finished a mission.
My spine scraped up against the wooden bench, already missing the comfort of Dmitri’s couch. When he eventually kicked me out later, it was going to be hell going back to my old apartment.
“Why’d you want to meet?” Natalya asked, her eyes flickering over my dress again.
I swallowed at the reminder of Roman, and my saliva tasted like pennies. What I was about to tell her was something I’d never spoken about. I’d tucked it deep within my psyche, far away from my waking thoughts.
At my silence, Natalya’s microbladed eyebrows drew together. I took a steadying breath, knowing that I needed to speak of the one night I never wanted to revisit. An ache stirred in my chest, and I imagined it would last far beyond this conversation. Despite the pain of reopening these wounds, I knew if I could save her from experiencing the same hurt I had then it was worth it.
“Are you seeing Roman Komarov?” I asked.
His name tasted like blood in my mouth. Or maybe that was the result of me biting the soft flesh of my cheek.
Natalya looked a bit taken aback, and I hoped that I’d read this all wrong. But after a moment her eyes lit up, and my insides twitched.
“I forget you saw us together,” she said. “And you were withDmitri Novikov. From his lack of reaction to me, it appears you took my advice.”
She elbowed me playfully, but it felt like a gun slapping me in the side.
“We’re just partnered up for some missions,” I said quietly. Even though it’d developed to far more than that, now was not the time to unwind that.
“Sure you are. Normally, I’d threaten to take him from you anyway.” She laughed, but I wasn’t sure if she was joking. “But I actually like Roman.”
Her eyes brightened as she spoke his name, and bile swirled towards my throat.
“He-” I tried to speak, but with the way she was looking with stars in her eyes, it felt like my tongue was three sizes too large. My mouth too unwieldy to open my thoughts to her.
“He what?” she said with a frown.
I swallowed, and I knew I had to force the words out before I vomited on her Jimmy Choos. “Roman’s not a good guy.”
“What are you talking about?”
Images flashed in front of my eyes. The way he’d waited for me to come out of an en-suite bathroom at a party. The way he’d ambushed me before I could even process what he was doing, twisting his arms around me while I stared at him in shock.
How I’d shook my head, but in my shock the words refused to leave my throat. How Roman’s arm had felt like an iron unbreakable grip. How I couldn’t believe this was happening to me. This wasn’tsupposed to be happening.
Then his hands were all over my body, and it didn’t feel like my body anymore. And when I was finally,finallyable to speak, to whisper, he’d ignored me.
No, he’d only stopped when he’d ripped my pants down my legs, and my underwear along with it. Roman had stared down at the period blood pooling on my pad, and the disgust on his face made me feel like this was my fault. That I was the disgusting one.
He’d left me quivering on the bed, unpenetrated physically. But my mind….
I tried to piece the images into words, but as I spoke them out loud for the first time, they threatened to engulf me. For a moment, Natalya’s eyes widened, and I hoped she understood. Hoped that this was worth it.
When I reached the end, her nose scrunched up like she smelled something rotten. In my vulnerable state, it was almost like watching Roman’s face when he’d pulled down my pants and revealed my period blood.
“What’s the big deal?” she said.
I choked down my breath, trying to keep myself from vomiting onto the dying grass at my feet. Part of me wanted to lower myself down onto it, and let the cool overwhelm me.
“He-he touched me, and he would’ve-”
“You always act all innocent. But let me guess, you were wearing a slutty outfit likethat, and were giving him the eyes all evening.” Her tone was harsh, and her expression even harsher. “Then when he actually follows through on what you’ve been silently begging him to do, you freak out.”
I shrunk into the bench, feeling like there was no barrier between my body and the rest of the world, like the contents of my chest were moments away from leaking down my dress. I gritted my teeth as those same questions I’d asked myself every night for months darted across my mind.
