Quarantine Romance: Multicultural Romance During a Pandemic

by L. P. Guleva

  “I thought you lived alone.”

  “I did, but I had to find a way to keep paying rent. I met this girl while I was searching for toilet paper. She lost her job too, so we decided to move in together and save on rent.”

  “Where did you move to?”

  What would be the best lie? No, a half-truth. I had to be at least half honest with my own mother. “We found a house in Ohio. It’s very cheap, but we had to clean it out and fix a few things.” Like the roof. And the porch. Matt had learned the hard way not to leave his kettlebells there.

  “That’s nice. At least you’re not all alone. Complete isolation is how people lose their minds.”

  “Yeah, Mom, I know.”

  "Although having everyone back together can be unhealthy too. Remember Elvira? She went to Russia to make money. Well, she's back home because she lost her job and couldn't pay rent. Her family didn't have enough money before and now they have to take care of her too."

  I cringed. Elvira used to send money to her family. Now they had a problem helping her out? Now she was a burden? I needed to cut this short. “Oh, people just came to pick up the dumpster. I have to go.”

  I hung up and took a deep breath. This wasn’t a complete disaster. My family wasn’t even that conservative. I didn’t need to worry that much.

  Like hell. Gulya didn't run away from home just for the lolz. What would happen if she went home now? She had helped us all out a lot in the few months since we reconnected, but would my parents call her a burden? Ungrateful? Disrespectful? And she was pregnant out of wedlock too.

  Play it safe. Always.

  Matt walked into the living room, looking as good as a shirtless man after an intense workout could.

  “How did it go?” he asked.

  “I slipped up and said that I have a roommate, except you’re a girl now.”

  He plopped on the couch next to me, smelling way too sexy for someone this sweaty. “What happens if they find out?”

  “They won’t.” Hopefully.

  “But what if they do?”

  I moved closer, letting his arm fall on my shoulder. “I don’t know. They love me. I know they do, but sometimes, parents do things out of love.”

  He quirked his eyebrow in question. I didn’t want to think about the answer.

  “You know how mothers sometimes get worried that their children are single and start setting them up on dates with some girl they met in a supermarket? It’s like that, but instead of setting up a date, they go for the kill.”

  “Good thing you’re not single. Girls in supermarkets can be irresistible.”

  I smiled, some of the tension floating away. “Yeah. But then they can start thinking that dating is a waste of time and go for the kill anyway.”

  “You can’t say no?”

  There was that. “I can.” Not without consequences, but I could.

  “What’s wrong, then?” His thumb brushed my shoulder. Back and forth. Back and forth.

  “It’s not socially acceptable.”

  “Screw social crap. It’s your life. You get to be the one to live it.”

  Yeah. There was that too. Besides, I was in another country. Who would stop me? Except myself.

  “I’m an idiot,” I said.

  “No you’re not.”

  “You’re rubbing off on me.”

  He chuckled. “Are you saying that I’m an idiot?”

  “No. It’s your existential, psychological stuff that’s rubbing off on me.” I was at the wheel, deciding what I could and couldn’t do. Or who I could and couldn’t do.

  I put both hands on Matt’s gloriously naked chest and pressed my lips to his. He pulled me closer as his tongue swiped over mine. Matt’s hands found their way under my shirt but stayed on my back.

  He wouldn’t make the next move unless I made it obvious, so I took my stupid tee off. Matt let out a low growl and kissed his way down, pausing only when he reached the edge of my bra.

  “Don’t stop,” I said.

  He looked up and gave me his devastating smile. “Not planning to, but we should take it to the bedroom.”

  He got off the couch and picked me up. With his lips finding new trails to blaze on my skin, he carried me to his bedroom, then carefully lowered me on the bed.

  “Damn, gorgeous.” Matt took his time to look at me before he pulled out a strip of condoms and threw them on the bed.

  “Your pants. Lose them.”

  Matt obliged, stripping underwear as well as his sweats. His cock sprung free and bounced once, twice, three times.

  “Are you doing that on purpose?” I asked.

  “Maybe.”

  I laughed and pulled him by the arm. Matt rested his weight on his elbows as he kissed my neck and chest, then slowly peeled the bra off. His hot lips covered my nipple while his tongue drew tiny circles around it.

  With one hand, he fumbled with my jeans. The zipper refused to budge. Matt shifted his full attention to the evil contraption.

  “Don’t take this the wrong way, because your ass looks great in pants, but why couldn’t you wear a dress today?”

  “Sorry.” I looked at the stupid zipper. Right there, between its teeth, was the ribbon from my underwear.

  Matt finally yanked it hard enough to open. “You should be. What do you think it is, the twenty-first century? Of course, you’re not allowed to wear pants.” He pulled my jeans and underwear off.

  “Is that what we’re doing now? What century are we role-playing?”

  Matt gave me a tiny kiss. “No role-playing. I like the here and now.”

  Our lips met. Our tongues danced. I pulled him closer as if it would help us become one.

  Matt pushed his hand between us until his fingers found my clit. One slow circle after another, he brought me to the peak.

  “Wait.” I grabbed his wrist. “I want you inside me when I come.”

  He let go of me for long enough to put the condom on, then got back to covering my neck and chest in kisses. The tip of his cock teased my folds, sliding over them. I angled my hips to try to get it in.

  With one long, smooth stroke, Matt filled me. I wrapped my legs around him and took him deeper.

  Our breaths merged. Our rhythms synched. Our bodies became one.

  Thrust after thrust, I rose higher, like a climb up the mountain. Finally, I got to the top and jumped. Every muscle in my body pulsed with pleasure. Lights flickered in and out behind my closed lids. Matt kissed below my ear as his cock stilled and the world stopped spinning.

  “You smell nice.” Why that would be the first thing out of my mouth, I had no idea, but it was true. Whatever he was using smelled like evergreens and crisp morning air. I wanted to wake up and fall asleep with this scent cocooning me.

  “Must be my new body wash. I’ll get more.” He rolled over and tucked me into his side, just the way I liked it.

  Chapter 18

  Matt

  NOW, I DEFINITELY DIDN’T WANT Zamira out of my bed. Why did we finish cleaning out our bedrooms? The dumbest thing I had ever done.

  “Can I blackmail you?” I asked.

  “I don’t think that’s how blackmail works.”

  “You’re right. I don’t even have anything to threaten you with.” I pulled away enough to take in the full view. Damn, my girl was hot. “I like having you in my bed. Can we make this a regular nightly thing?”

  “The bed or the sex?”

  Both. “The bed, but I won’t say no to sex either.”

  “What about my room? I cleaned it out and everything.” She snuggled closer and buried her nose in my neck.

  “It can be your office. You’ll need space to work on the masks and store everything.”

  “Alright.”

  Yeah? Just like that? That was too easy. “I’m not gonna withhold sex if you don’t agree.”

  She chuckled and gave me a kiss. “You were right. We fit like puzzle pieces. You’re the perfect outie to my inie.”

  “That was corny
, and I love it. I’d like to add that you’re also my anchor in a stormy sea.”

  “You’re my sun, and I’m your ray of light,” Zamira added. “You’re my fish, and I’m your eye. You’re my sauna, and I’m your bucket of water.”

  “Fish? Really?”

  Zamira laughed. “Yeah. That’s from a song. It just keeps going like that too. You’re my hand, and I’m your finger. Nineties in the former USSR territories produced the best songs.”

  “That’s perfectly cringy, and I love it almost as much as your puzzle pieces analogy.” I looked over the perfect package that came with the perfect mind. How did I get this lucky? “I love you.”

  Zamira stared up at me. Crap. I probably shouldn’t have said that. Too soon. Right? Or not?

  “I mean it. It’s not just my dick talking.” Definitely wrong timing. “Hey, I got an idea, why don’t I teach you to drive today?”

  “We need to shower first.” She slipped out of bed and ran to her room.

  My big mouth finally did it. Everything had been going so well. Why did I have to screw it up?

  I got out of bed, realizing I still had a condom on my deflated cock. A shower did sound like a good plan. Would’ve been better if I was taking it with Zamira, though.

  Nope. Not crashing her shower. She probably wanted time to think.

  I grabbed clean clothes and washed up as fast as I could, then went to the kitchen to make us both sandwiches. What did Zamira like? Damn it, I should remember her favorite foods better. Definitely veggies and some meat.

  Alright, so tomatoes, cucumbers, onions, and chicken. I had seen her eat each of these. And she always put sour cream or mayo on her food. And she almost always drank tea.

  Zamira walked into the kitchen, her flushed skin highlighted by the blue dress. “Is one of those for me? Because I’m starving.”

  “Yeah. This one.” I put the plate with her sandwich in front of her, then made her tea and myself a cup of coffee.

  “I’m sorry I ran out like that,” she said.

  “Nah. I always sucked with the timing.”

  She shook her head. “It’s my fault. I feel like I used you, which I didn’t.” She sighed and put her sandwich down without taking a single bite. “And now I’m making no sense. I was just thinking that every decision I make is my own. Even if I let someone influence it, I’m the one who allows them to influence me.”

  “You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself.”

  “I’m just being honest with myself. I wanted to have sex with you, but I allowed my culture to stop me. But then I felt like I used you to give my culture the middle finger, which is crazy because that’s not at all what I was doing. I just wanted to do what I wanted.” She made a face, then took a sip of her tea. “I sound like a crazy person.”

  “So, we’re good?”

  “Yes.” She finally bit into the sandwich. “This is good. I never met anyone in the states who puts cucumbers on sandwiches.”

  “You always have them in your salad.”

  Zamira nodded. “So, you meant it? That you love me, I mean. It’s fine if you didn’t.”

  “I meant it.” And thought it was obvious, but I clearly sucked at thinking.

  Zamira went back to eating. Slowly. Silently. Was she trying to kill me? She had to say something.

  “So, where are we going to do this driving thing?” she asked.

  “We can start in front of the house, just so you get the hang of it.” I handed her my keys.

  “I don’t even know why I’m here.” She took the keys and went outside.

  I followed. “Are you planning on bailing as soon as you learn how to drive?”

  “No. It’s just not like me to pick up and go without thinking everything over and planning every detail. You really are rubbing off on me.”

  “Sorry.” I hopped in the passenger seat and waited for Zamira to start the car.

  “You should be. It’s because I trust you. I don’t even know why I do, but I do.”

  “Must be my voice. Put your foot on the brake and shift into drive. Don’t use gas yet. Just see if the car starts rolling and then you can slowly get her going.”

  She did as I told her. “Voice, huh?”

  “Yeah. I read about this study about how women react to men’s voices. Deep ones inspire trust, and squeaky ones don’t.”

  “I don’t think it’s just your voice.” She turned the wheel one way, then the other. “I don’t know where I’m going with this.”

  “Kinda straight but in a zig-zag?”

  Zamira let out a nervous laugh. “I mean, with my speech. I like being with you. It feels right, but I also don’t want to throw the L word around unless I know I mean it, but I don’t even know what I feel half the time.”

  “I wasn’t just throwing it around.”

  “I know.” She stopped the car and turned toward me. “It was in your eyes. Maybe that’s why I trust you. Your eyes show everything you really feel.”

  “Yeah? Can we make out and forget about this whole thing then?”

  “No.” But she leaned over and gave me a kiss. “I just want to figure out if I love you or if this is just a crush.”

  “Hey, you can have a crush on me too. I don’t mind.”

  She kissed me again, letting our lips linger for a few seconds before pulling away.

  “Can I keep using you for sex?” she asked. “And your bed is more comfortable than mine.”

  “Definitely.”

  Chapter 19

  Zamira

  THE SUNLIGHT ILLUMINATED THE FOAM head that wore a blond wig and the mask. I took a dozen pictures, hoping that something would look good enough.

  Matt hugged me from behind, then showed me a pair of glasses he was holding. “Put these on the mannequin. I promise you, it’ll help your sales.”

  “Thanks.” I formed the wire on the mask to fit around the nose and perched the glasses on. “This is nerve-wracking. I always just wanted a regular job. What do I know about sales?”

  “That’s what you got me for, right? We’re a team.”

  I gave him a kiss, then took a bunch more pictures. “We need to do some food shopping. Our produce and meat are almost out.”

  “Thank you. I’ve been trying to find a reason to get out of the house. Wanna go with me?” He looked like a puppy that was offered a treat.

  “Sorry, I need to finish working on this. Besides, the fewer people are out, the better, right?” I gave him another kiss before letting him go get his wallet.

  A few minutes later, he drove away, leaving me to post all of this somewhere it would sell. Amazon, eBay, and Etsy were the obvious choices. Or at least they had been obvious to Matt when we had brainstormed ideas.

  I clicked each site and posted a few masks. Maybe I could drop it in the for sale section on Craigslist. Where else? My brain drew a blank.

  Three hours just to post everything. And nothing even sold yet.

  “It takes time for people to start buying,” I mumbled to myself. I couldn’t expect sales to start rolling in the moment I posted my stupid masks, especially when there already were hundreds, if not thousands, of people selling the same thing. And they started before me. They had reviews. This wasn’t gonna work.

  My email pinged with a notification, displaying the giant address from Craigslist. I opened and scanned the words.

  I saw your Mononoke mask for sale and figured I should ask. I mean, no guts, no glory, right? Can you put the mask in your panties and keep it there for three days? I’ll buy it for $50 from you if you do that.

  Delete. And then I deleted the ad. I wasn’t posting it on Craigslist ever again.

  Matt’s car pulled up into the driveway. Judging by the number of bags he pulled out of the trunk, we were set for a few weeks. And then the plush toy came out.

  “Hey, gorgeous. Help me put it away?”

  “What is that?”

  “You didn’t like those real alpacas, so I figured this would work better. We need a hou
se mascot.” He grinned from ear to ear. “Or just a pet in general.”

  “Couldn’t you get a dog or something?” Why did we even need a mascot or a pet?

  “This one won’t shit in the house. We won’t need to buy food for it either. The way the economy is going, we need to save money.”

  “A pet rock would’ve been cheaper.” I grabbed a few bags with groceries, feeling more productive than I had all day. Those masks were a waste of time.

  “You okay?” Matt asked.

  “Yes. I just need a real job. This whole mask business isn’t going to work. Who needs my stupid tee recycling with no reviews when there’re a bunch of sellers already?”

  Matt put the canned goods in the cupboards. “Everyone needs masks now, and you’re offering something unique.”

  We put the rest of it away, filling the fridge and the freezer. The meat shortages made it look like a vegetarian paradise with way too much spinach and corn. One pork shoulder, one package of ground beef, and one chicken somehow had to last us a few weeks.

  “I got a surprise for you.” Matt picked up the last bag and beckoned me to follow him outside.

  We walked through the overgrown wooded side of our property to the pond. The clear water sparkled in the sun. The wooden bench with peeled paint sat on the bank.

  “You cleaned it out,” I said. “Looks beautiful.”

  “Not as beautiful as you, love.” He winked at me, then pulled out a bag with live fish. “Wanna do the honors?”

  “You think they’ll survive there.”

  He nodded and handed me the four tiny fish. “Put it in the water, so the temperature slowly evens out before you release them.”

  Careful not to slip, I crouched by the pond and put the bag in a shaded patch. “How long do we wait?”

  Matt shrugged and opened the bag with food. “Long enough to eat.”

  “What is this?” Everything was packed like Chinese food, but the contents looked completely different. And there was a cake.