For a person claiming no one’s allowed in his space, setting up a whole mini living room feels like…more. Especially someone not considered a friend, by his calculations.
Lost in thought, I nearly walk into the figure waiting by the top of the stairs. Vanessa saws her bottom lip as she glances from me to the basement door. “Visiting?” One brow arches.
After witnessing Lev and the others, it seems like there’s a divide between them, a part of himself he secrets away, and admitting his kindness feels like breaching the front he puts on. So, I fib.
“Planning for our trip into the city tomorrow.”
She makes a noise of acknowledgement before twisting in the direction of her office. “Your brother wants to video chat, if you wouldn’t mind following.”
The call goes well; we talk about the Vitale situation being complicated with no updates—which is lie. After a while, his responses shorten, and his attention remains on Vanessa, so I tie up the conversation and leave them alone.
Lev takes the offered paper cup, his fingers brushing mine. “You know, you don’t have to buy me coffee. It’s your money.”
“Technically, it’s Z’s. Besides, you started this.”
“You wanted coffee that day but didn’t get any for whatever reason, so I made it happen. Why deny something yourself something when it’s achievable?”
His words linger, a few other desires popping into my head, but reaching the building for my first lab distracts me. He falls into step behind me, like he did in Rome, except everything is different now. I want to tell him he could walk beside me, but considering his anti-friends stance before gifting me a makeshift living room, who knows how he’ll take it.
Down the science hallway, I hover by the first door to our left, waiting for him to catch up. When he does, he angles himself against the wall and pulls out his phone with a simple and brief, “Enjoy class.”
“You’re not coming in?”
“No point. Before, we were on the lookout for Vitale, but here’s different.”
Disappointment settles deep in my gut. It’s silly, really, because him sitting in the back of the room versus out here makes no difference.
“Alright. Well…text if you need anything.” Stupid comment, but it’s all I got.
Inside the lab, I introduce myself to the professor, and he calls over his teaching assistant, a third-year student named Daniil. He’s got a friendly smile, bright eyes framed by thinglasses, and messy blond hair. He’s lanky, nothing like my bodyguard outside.
“Your accent,” he starts after introducing myself. “Where are you from?”
“Italy.”
He snaps his fingers. “Ah, I’m a moron for not picking that up. What brings you to Moscow?”
I hesitate, trying to piece together a story that makes sense. Vanessa didn’t give me a cover. “Um, trying new countries. I have friends here who talked it up.”
“That’s cool. Come.” He waves me to a nearby table. “Let’s get you set up.”
Lev kicks off the wall when I exit the lab. “Good class?”
“It was fine. The prof had me working with his assistant for most of it, to catch up. The curriculum in Rome was slightly different.”
“That’s good,” he murmurs, walking to the nearest garbage can to toss his now-empty cup. He steps aside, expecting me to lead the way.
At the same time, a body collides into mine, throwing me backwards. The girl mutters a quick,“Izvini!”, which I presume to be an apology based on her tone, and takes off into the crowd.
Large hands cup my hips, fingers branding the skin where my shirt and jeans meet. Lev straightens me before his touch drops. From the beginning to end, his hands were on me for a matter of seconds—and it isn’t the first time he’s touched me, thinking of the party from hell—but my skin is permanently marked by it, nonetheless. As I twist to thank him, his gaze sucksme back to yesterday, when he spotted me with that soldier, the kind of look that sparks every nerve in my body to life.
“You okay?” His tone is low, packed with meaning.
“Sì, grazie.”Ducking my head and hiding behind my hair, I say nothing more. It wouldn’t matter anyway, because knowing Lev, he’ll use this situation to avoid me again—and I’ve come to hate when he does that. Better to keep my inside thoughts inside.
As I walk, Lev remains beside me, his hand hovering by my lower back—not quite touching but telling everyone else to stay away.
Maybe I was wrong about his escape routes.
