He squinted at the purple carrel, then back at Lydia, who had placed an expensive set of GoNoTo headphones over her ears as if she had already blocked out his existence—as if she didn’t even know him.
She thought him a thing that could easily be avoided if she kept her head down and stuck to the library.
That was fine, Yom decided as he turned and headed toward the building’s front doors.
Lydia didn’t realize what it meant to cross a Rustanov. To make one your enemy. Yet.
But soon... He balled one fist at his side as he strode out of the library. A predator on the hunt. Soon, she’d understand just how badly she fucked up when she’d used her wiles to turn him into a besotted fool.
He’d make sure of it.
Lydia
Of course,I didn’t get any work done that night.
I did my best to act like I didn’t care one way or another about Artyom Rustanov’s presence in the library. But it was kind of hard to appear unbothered when I could feel his heavy, hateful gaze on me.
My hands shook as I put on my headphones, and even bringing out a six-inch plastic Gemidgee Dog Shelter ruler didn’t help me follow along with the book’s narrative. The words swam worse than usual as I tried to escape into the post-apocalyptic world ofDawn, the first book in Octavia Butler’s Lilith’s Brood series.
And my stomach continued to roil. Even after he left.
I struggled for nearly an hour before giving up and heading back to the off-campus bungalow I shared with my best friend, Trish. Ironically, it was located on the public side of the campus stadium, where the Gemidgee Yolks men’s and women’s teams were currently finishing up their seasons.
I had to walk underneath the stadium’s newest billboard, which featured a larger-than-life mid-action shot of Yom Rustanov infull white-and-gold hockey gear next to the words HOME OF YOM RUSTANOV. Except someone had crossed out his first name with bright gold paint and replaced it with the word YUM.
It wasn’t the first time I’d seen this nickname applied to him. Sophomore year, I’d overheard Trish and the rest of the Rainbow Alliance Club planning who to invite to stand up in the Ally Float for the Gemidgee Pride Parade, and one of the guys had called out, “Ooh, add Yum Rustanov to the list for sure, for sure!”
And there’d been those giggling nursing students in my junior year Interprofessional Collaboration in Healthcare Systems course, talking about how if Yum Rustanov looked their way, their boyfriends would just have to understand why they cheated because he was “the ultimate campus hall pass.”
On the billboard, Artyom Rustanov’s intense gaze was focused straight ahead in a way that promised violence to all challengers.
In other words, he looked the exact opposite of the kind guy who’d kissed me so softly in Berlin.
Sorrow and regret tugged at my heart as I looked up at the billboard. What would those nursing students think if I told them the whole, sordid story about running from my once-in-a-lifetime chance to lose my virginity to the campus hockey god?
But it hadn’t just been about that. That night, in the softness of his touch and the warmth of his words, I’d felt a connection with the human beneath the hard exterior. For a moment, it had seemed like he truly saw me—not the awkward girl in the stupid dress or the one who’d fallen into his lap, but someone who mattered.
And that hurt the most—not missing out on him physically, but losing whatever had sparked between us before I ran. Because I hadn’t remotely deserved the gift he’d tried to give me.
The buzz of my phone interrupted my thoughts, an electronic voice chiming over that Swedish singer Trish loved, lamenting that her crush would never be hers.
“Message from Mom Carrington: Darling, what do you mean you can’t attend Paul’s birthday party? This has been on the calendar for months! I’ve already booked your suite at the Chicago Benton Grand!”
Leaving the billboard behind with a sigh, I paused the synth-pop I’d much rather be listening to in order to send my mom a new voice text that completely left out my real reason for canceling my trip: “I know! I know! I’m so sorry, Mom. But I’m, like, already drowning in school work and other obligations….”
That part wasn’t a lie at all.
My first official day of school was nonstop. An 8 am Animal Behavior seminar followed by an all-day field practicum with Gemidgee Pawsible, who had me assist with back-to-back Back-to-School events with their menagerie of therapy animals. Way better than listening to the computer read off therapy visit requests, for sure. But I was already dragging by the time I showed up for my late-afternoon volunteer shift at the Gemidgee Animal Shelter.
“Are you still okay for tomorrow’s special assignment?” Val, the supervisor I’d been working with since I started volunteering at the shelter my first year, eyed me worriedly. “You look tired. Maybe we can get Brigid to take over the Puppy Mama Project.”
“I am tired, but I promise I’ll be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed tomorrow,” I answered. “Besides, I’ve done all the prep work, and the project’s too important. I wouldn’t want to put this on Brigid at the last minute.”
Valerie let out an audible sigh of relief. “Oh good, because the truth is, there’s no one I trust with this operation but you. I can’t even get Brigid to show up to work on time, and she’s an actual paid employee.”
The Puppy Mama Project was no joking matter, but I found myself laughing along with Val before I got to work, tending to the animals in the back. I then explained the process of adopting a cat to a walk-in visitor and once again told Mrs. Isaacson, a retiree who had decided to live out her years as the dictionary definition of a crazy cat lady, that we’d have to do a home check before we could let her adoptanothercat—or as she called the older tabby she wanted to take home, another “precious baby.”
Of course, she wasn’t happy about me telling her that, and eventually, Val had to escort her out while assuring her we’d find a home for the precious baby we couldn’t let her adopt.
