Then he said:“No more questions.”
YOM
?????: [In Russian]: You told her what?!?!
Yom clenchedhis jaw at his cousin Pavel’s message as he made his way across campus from morning practice to the only class he shared with Lydia. Even though Pavel was well out of his parents’ house and currently one of the starting defensemen for his father’s team, the Indiana Polar, he’d taken time out of his busy schedule to text Yom. Ostensibly to thank Yom for providing his family with a new dog—not to replace, but to supplement their departed Back Up in their hearts.
However, Pavel’s thank you had fast turned into a string of prying questions about Lydia. And this last one hit with a load of judgment.
Yom texted back an answer anyway, also in Russian.
ME: I added NO MORE QUESTIONS to her Anything List.
He then defended himself with…
ME: It is easier this way.
Pavel’s answer came back irritatingly fast.
?????: Easier for whom??? This is some peak Rustanov cow excrement. I am thinking that you’re confusing her so much that things will become even more awkward between you and your Library Girl.
Chyort, had Cheslav really told every single member of the American-based side of their family that he used to call her that?
Yom left Pavel on Read rather than admit that his cousin was probably correct about his actions increasing the already formidable amount of awkwardness between him and Lydia. Also, what else could he say? There wasn’t an easy way to explain why he was doing this. His new plan barely made sense to himself.
So instead, he dropped his phone into his pocket and picked up his pace, only to slow when he spotted Lydia waiting outside the front entrance of the building for their seminar class.
He’d had morning practice, and Lydia’s first class wasn’t until 10, so Rina had driven her to school. He’d expected her to wait inside, but there she was, hunched over against the winter wind in her yellow swing coat, with her hands stuffed in her pockets. Yom did not believe in hobbies, but if he painted, he would have called her portrait “Freezing Cold Library Girl in Bright Yellow Coat.”
“Hi!” She greeted him with a cute little wave of her gloved hand when he stopped in front of her.
“Why are you out here waiting for me?” Yom snapped, unable to keep the irritation out of his voice.
Her face fell. “Oh, Rina said it was okay to wait out here for you. Did I accidentally break a rule by trying not to break the rule about you walking me to my first class of the day?”
“No, once again, there is a misunderstanding between us,” Yom informed her, realizing she’d mistaken the reason for his severe tone. “You are cold. I am not wanting that.”
“Oh.” She visibly relaxed with a little laugh. “You’re right. I probably should have waited inside the doors.”
She tucked her arm through his and burrowed her face into his jacket sleeve as they turned to walk up the building’s concrete stairs. “Or at least kept that scarf you loaned me. It was so nice and toasty.”
Yom found himself relaxing, too, as they walked up the stone stairs into the old—but warm—building. Also, making a note to himself to give her back the scarf she’d left hanging in the entrance hallway.
The speech he gave yesterday must have worked. There were murmurs when they entered hand in hand, but no one said anything under their breath to Lydia, like the last time they were in this classroom together.
Lydia, for her part, happily participated in another discussion aboutDawnby Octavia Butler, having clearly done the reading for today’s seminar. And he successfully managed not to openly stare at her lit-up face as she shared her thoughts on awakening in a remade world, which served both as an escape from a racist hierarchy and as a new form of eugenic discrimination for the Black main character.
Okay, he successfully managednot to get caughtstaring at her.
So it felt to Yom like a win even before Professor Quinn called out to Lydia right as she dismissed the class. “Ms. Carrington, a moment, please.”
Lydia grimaced. “Oh no, I forgot about her needing to approve whether I was allowed to stay in her seminar.”
“I’ll wait for you in the hall,” he answered, unperturbed. “Then we will go to eat lunch together.”
She nodded wordlessly before walking away to have another discussion with Professor Quinn, with the tight shoulders of someone facing a firing squad.
Yom wasn’t surprised, though, when she emerged from the seminar room a few minutes later with a wide grin.
