“Learned a long time ago. Gradually got better,” he says with a shrug. Then, he turns and dishes out some scrambled eggs and three crispy pieces of bacon onto my plate.
“Are you not eating?” I question as he sets down a smaller plate, which contains two pieces of freshly buttered toast, next to the bigger one.
“Already ate. I’ve been awake for hours.”
I frown. I know I’m intruding in his personal space, and I’m sure babysitting me last night and this morning wasn’t on his agenda. “Ican just take all of this to go and get out of your hair,” I offer, starting to stand.
He raises a dark brow and points at my chair. “Sit,” he demands. Then, his finger moves around the table and points at items in order as he says, “Food, juice, aspirin. Now.”
I take my seat and can’t stop the stupid smile that’s spreading across my lips. “Yes, sir,” I blurt out.
Dimitri’s eyes darken a bit as he stares at me, and I watch as his tongue darts out to lick his bottom lip.
Damn, does he like when I call him sir?
He crosses his arms in front of his chest, his fitted, black shirt putting in some work to not split at the seams as his long sleeves stretch to accommodate all of his muscles. “I’ll take you home after you’ve eaten,” he says.
I give him a nod in agreement. And then, I pick up my fork and say, “I should text Darby. Let her know I’m still alive.”
“Already done,” he says. “I texted her this morning.”
Of course he did.I’d like to say I’m angry about it, but I’m not. It makes me feel better knowing that my best friend doesn’t think I’m lying dead in a ditch somewhere. I know how much Darby worries. And so, with that out of the way, I load up some eggs on my fork and put them in my mouth. And, to my surprise, they’re fluffy, delicious and seasoned just right. “Wow,” I moan out loud after I’m done chewing and swallowing. “I don’t know if it’s because I’m hungover, but these are the best eggs I’ve ever had.”
“I’m sure it’s just the hangover,” he says with a grin. “I said I know how to cook. Not that I’m any good at it.”
But when I pick up a piece of perfectly fried bacon, I know he’s full of crap. He’s a great cook and way too humble about it. Every time I try to cook bacon, it comes out looking burnt beyond recognition.
While I eat, my mind starts rewinding over everything that happened last night. Many things were said. I thought maybeI would forget some of them, but that’s simply not the case. I remember everything. Especially the part about why Dimitri pushed me in the pool. He said Corbin had tried drugging me. I vaguely remember that night when it comes to the party and my then boyfriend. I do remember Corbin very earnestly trying to get me to drink and that I did not like the taste of it.
Dimitri tried everything to get me to put that drink down; finally resorting to pushing me in the pool. Back then, I had thought he was just being cruel and wanting me to be the laughing stock of the school. But knowing the truth behind it now, it makes me rethink everything.
Was Dimitri ever truly a bully? Sure, he made my life miserable at times, but was it because he was just trying to protect me? And then I have to wonder…what else hasn’t he told me?
The worst part is I can remember the first day of school after the party. Dimitri was sporting a black eye. He clearly got in trouble with his father for being at the party. He took a beating just so he could ultimately save me that night, and I never thanked him for it. Instead, I treated him terribly because I thought he had done something awful to me first.
I stop eating, suddenly feeling ill. The juice and aspirin churns in my stomach as I stare up at Dimitri. He’s leaning against the cupboards, watching me.
When he sees my mood change, he straightens his back. “Something wrong with the food?” Dimitri asks, breaking through my inner turmoil.
“No, it’s not that,” I say, swallowing hard past the lump forming in my throat. “I just…I remember what you said last night about the party back in high school.”
He frowns. “I shouldn’t have said anything,” he mutters.
“No, I’m glad you told me. I was too naïve back then. Maybe I am now too,” I say quietly. Tears blur my vision as I stare up at him. “Your father didn’t want you going to the party, did he?”
His frown deepens. “No, he did not.”
“Did he hurt you?”
He doesn’t answer me, but he doesn’t have to. I can see it written all over his face.
“Dimitri,” I start, but he doesn’t let me finish.
“It’s in the past now, Savina.” He points to his eye. “See? No more bruises. I’m completely healed.”
Yeah, maybe on the outside, I think to myself. But I know Dimitri has a lot of inner scars he’ll probably never let me see. And those will never truly go away.
I climb out of my seat and go to him. He stiffens as I approach him, unsure of what to do or say, but nothing needs to be done or said. I merely wrap my arms around him, press my head to his chest, listening to his heartbeat as I whisper, “Thank you. For that night. For everything.”
