From Lukov with Love

by Mariana Zapata

  Ivan’s lips moved. He blinked. He glanced up and then looked back down before shaking his head, his voice rising from a mutter. “You stubborn ass….”

  “Fuck off,” I whispered.

  Ivan hissed, “You fuck off. I’ll pay for your doctor’s visit and medication. Don’t be an idiot.”

  I closed my mouth and swallowed the ache in my throat and the painful stab in my chest at his choice of words. “I’m not an idiot. Call me whatever you want other than an idiot.”

  He either chose to ignore me or just didn’t care. “You’re an idiot, and we’re going to the doctor. Don’t let your pride get in the way of you getting better.”

  That’s how bad I felt that I didn’t even argue with him. He had a point, unfortunately. I just closed my eyes and said, “Fine. But I’ll pay you back.” I swallowed. “It might take me a year.”

  Ivan muttered something under his breath that didn’t sound very nice, but his palm stroked my hair some more, brushing through the strands like the last thing he wanted to do was hurt me. For once. It was nice.

  “They can see her at noon,” Coach Lee finally said. “We need to reduce her fever in the meantime. Did you give her a painkiller already?”

  “Yes,” the man whose thigh I had my head on replied.

  They whispered some other words to each other, words too low for me to care about while I was debating if I could offer to pay Ivan to keep running his fingers through my hair, when I felt a tap to my cheek. “Hmm?”

  “Time to get up,” Ivan whispered. “You need a shower.”

  Get up? “No, thank you.”

  There was a pause and then, “I’m not asking. Get up.”

  “I don’t want to get up,” I whined.

  “Okay,” he agreed too easily. “I’ll carry you in.”

  “No thanks.”

  His hand stroked over my head, then picked at the corner of the towel over my forehead and peeled it off, brushing his fingers over the skin there with those hands I knew so well that had never been so gentle before. His voice was low as he said, “I know you don’t want to, and I know you feel bad, but you need to get up, little hedgehog. You need to cool down.”

  I groaned and ignored his h-word.

  Ivan sighed, but his hand still petted my hair. “Come on. Get up for me.”

  “No.”

  There was a snicker and another stroke. “I wouldn’t have thought you were a baby when you got sick,” he said, sounding amused I thought but wasn’t sure because I was too busy trying to zone out how shitty I felt.

  “Uh-huh,” I agreed, because my mom had always said the same thing. What a crybaby. I didn’t get sick often. It wasn’t like I tried to milk attention… even if she would have given it to me. But she was always more worried about my sister than me having a little cold or cough, and I’d never cared.

  “Are you going to get up?” he asked, palming my forehead with a hiss I wasn’t so sick to not know it meant my skin was hot.

  “No,” I said again, rolling onto my side so that my cheek was pressed to his thigh and my nose was at his hip. His crotch was right there, but his dick could have been out and I wouldn’t have cared.

  “You’re not going to get up on your own?”

  “No.”

  There was a pause and a definite sound of amusement when he finally grated out, “If you insist.”

  I insisted. I really insisted, especially as another shiver racked through my entire body, my spine aching in that way it only did after a bad season and real illness. I wasn’t getting up.

  But Ivan had other plans.

  Plans that involved him sliding out from under me while I groaned in protest at the loss of the most uncomfortable pillow I’d ever laid my head on, but beggars can’t be choosers so I’d take that hard thigh any day. Those plans were then followed up by two arms sliding into the same spots they’d been in minutes before: supporting my shoulder blades and the underside of my knees. Then, he lifted me and started walking, each step solid and balanced.

  And I didn’t argue. Not even a little bit.

  It might shame me later that I didn’t even try and help him with my weight to ease the load; instead I just lay there like a kid being carried to bed after a long car ride, with my head resting against his shoulder while I shivered some more. I could have walked, of course I could have. But I didn’t fucking want to. Not when he was so willing to help me out.

  And just feeling his warm, hard body against me made me feel a little better.

  In no time at all, he opened a door I hadn’t noticed before, leading us into a bathroom. It wasn’t anything fancy, just a shower stall with a sink and toilet. Ivan squatted and slowly let me get to my feet, where a head rush made me dizzy.

  “You need a cold shower,” he said, stabilizing me with the arm around my shoulders.

  “Ugh,” I mumbled, closing my eyes. He was right. I knew from the rare times I’d seen other people with high fevers how dangerous it could be. I didn’t need to lose any more brain cells. Another shiver tore through my body, and that had Ivan letting go of me and stepping around to turn the handle on the shower.

  “Come on,” he urged.

  I tried lifting my arms but let them drop when they didn’t move much more than an inch away from my body. Fuck. I was more exhausted than I could ever remember being before.

  With a swallow, I opened my eyes again and thought, Fuck it. I’ll go in fully clothed. I had a change in my bag. Lee or Ivan could grab it for me. Doing my best impersonation of every single member of my family on Christmas, I stumbled forward, squinting my eyes because the bright overhead light was goddamn blinding.

  But two steps before just walking right into the stall with my socks still on, Ivan’s arm went up, parallel to the floor, and blocked me from going any further. “What are you doing?” he asked.

  I peeked at him. “Going in?”

  “You’re fully clothed.”

  “No energy to take my clothes off,” I said, sounding hoarse.

  I didn’t miss the way he rolled his eyes. “I’ll help you.”

  “Okay,” I whispered, not thinking twice about it. Why would I? He’d had his hands all over my body daily, had already seen me basically naked, seen me half-dressed, and in skintight clothes. We were past being self-conscious.

  He hesitated for a moment… and then smiled a little. He took a step to the side to stand in front of me, that funny, small smile on his face, and he reached for the bottom of my tank. And before either one of us could overthink it, he pulled it up over my head.

  Unlike some other girls I knew with little to no chests in figure skating, I always wore a sports bra. I liked the support. They didn’t need to be moving around the place when I was upside down, even if there was hardly anything that moved.

  And if Ivan was surprised that I wasn’t braless under my clothes, it didn’t show on his face.

  Then again, if he was, I barely had my eyes open so I might have missed it.

  But his hands continued their path down until he got to the top of my tights, and taking a knee, he stripped those down my legs. Just as I was about to try and toe my socks off, still down there, he picked up one of my legs with one hand, and with the other, pulled off the thin socks and bandages I’d put on that morning, dragging the flat of his thumb over the arch before lowering my foot and picking the other one up. He did the same to it, his eyes lingering on my toes if I was seeing correctly, and if I’d had the energy, I would have scrunched up my sparkle pink nail polished toes. The fact that he glanced up at me and smiled, kind of threw me off, but I didn’t let my thoughts linger there. My stomach gave a roll, and I just barely managed not to throw up the breakfast I’d forced down that morning.

  Ivan snickered as he gave my heel a squeeze and dropped my foot. “In you go, champ.”

  I was dead asleep when something—or someone—hit my forehead. Hard.

  Then that something—or someone—hit me three more times, one right after the other. It w
as the fact that there was a rhythm to it that had me snapping my eyes open.

  Someone was knocking on my forehead.

  And that someone was Ivan.

  Ivan who was leaning over me, his fist held just a couple inches away from my face. He was smirking. At me.

  “Wake up, Outbreak monkey. It’s time for your next Tylenol.”

  I blinked. Then I looked at the ceiling behind him, trying to remember what the hell was happening. It was then, as I was wondering that, that my head reminded me it was still hurting. Still hurting. I shivered, a reminder that I’d had a fever. More than likely still had one if the tremor that went through my body meant anything.

  I was sick. The doctor had said it was a virus. Ivan had driven me there, then afterward, taken me to the pharmacy, where I’d sat in the car, shaking from hot to cold, to buy a bottle of Tylenol because I couldn’t remember how much I had. Then, he’d taken me home. Home to an empty house because my mom and Ben were gone, enjoying the beach and doing fun shit I would love to do.

  Instead, I was in my room, under the covers, having my forehead used as a bongo drum by someone who was clearly enjoying it.

  “What time is it?” I asked, trying to scoot up toward the headboard while I blinked, just barely noticing how raspy and hoarse my voice sounded. It was even worse than it had been before.

  “Time for you to take your Tylenol,” he replied, shaking the fist he’d been using to knock on me.

  I groaned and tried to roll to my side so I could go back to sleep, but he grabbed my shoulder and moved me back to lay the way I’d been.

  “Two more and then you can go back to sleep,” he tried to compromise with me.

  “No.”

  Those glacier eyes stayed locked on me, his facial expression still a happier one than I ever would have bet on. His voice though, didn’t sound so playful. “Take the pills, Jasmine.”

  I closed my eyes and moaned at how much my back and shoulders ached. “No.”

  I could see the sigh he let out in his shoulders. “Take the damn pills. Your fever still hasn’t broken,” he ordered, still holding on to my shoulder because he knew damn well the second I got a chance, I’d try to roll over again. Ugh. Was I that predictable?

  “My throat hurts,” I whispered, using that against him.

  He sighed again, shaking his fist once more. “I’m not buying you children’s Tylenol. Take the pills.”

  I closed one eye and left the other one open as I whispered, “I don’t want to.”

  I’d swear on my life, Ivan flashed a smile so quick, it was there and then it was gone. Back to normal. Back to trying to boss me around for my own good. “You need them,” he reminded me.

  I just stared at him with my one eye.

  “No?”

  “No,” I said, just barely loud enough for him to hear.

  His jaw twitched, and his gaze narrowed. “Your mom warned me you’re a pain in the ass when you’re sick.”

  She would say exactly that, that didn’t surprise me. I was a whiney little bitch when I was sick. It was true. So I didn’t waste my words and throat on agreeing.

  What I did wonder was… when the hell had he talked to my mom?

  And just as soon as I wondered that, I decided I didn’t give a shit.

  Then it hit me. “I forgot to call—”

  “Your mom called your boss for you,” he cut me off. “Now take them.”

  “No.”

  “You want to play this game, we can play this game,” he replied easily, making me suddenly wonder if I was screwing up. He kept going. “You’re going to take them.”

  I swallowed and winced at the ache that answered that action.

  The blink he gave me put me on edge instantly. Then his words confirmed that tiny worry he’d given me. His voice was low as he said, “You’re going to take them, or I’m going to make you take them.”

  Ugh.

  “Bitch,” I whispered.

  He beamed at me, literally beamed, fully aware that we both knew his threat wasn’t in vain. Not at all. Not even a little bit. “You ready then?”

  I opened my mouth, shooting him the nastiest look I was capable of while basically looking like a baby bird, and watched as he moved his hand over my face and dropped the pills into my mouth a moment before handing over a glass of water. Three small sips later, I swallowed the medicine and handed the glass back over. He took it and set it on the nightstand, before turning to me from where he’d been sitting on the edge of my bed the whole time.

  “You feeling any better?” he asked.

  “Little,” I whispered, because I was. Just a little. My headache wasn’t as bad, and even though I knew I had a fever, I was pretty sure it had to have gone down some. At least that’s what I hoped. I had to get better as soon as possible. That I hadn’t forgotten.

  Ivan gave me a microscopic smile, his fingers coming back to touch my forehead with the backs of them, gentle, gentle, gentle. “Your fever has gone down. It was down to 102 when I checked it an hour ago.”

  He’d checked it an hour ago? God, I was out of it.

  Ivan flipped his hand over and touched my cheek with the tips of those cold fingers. “You want another wet towel for your head?”

  “No,” I answered before adding, “thank you.”

  That got me another little smile. “You want anything?”

  “To feel better.”

  “You’ll be better tomorrow,” he said.

  “I have to.”

  He rolled those bright blue eyes. “No, but you will,” he claimed, scooting his hip further into the bed. “There’s some soup for you downstairs.”

  I couldn’t stop the frown from coming onto my face. “You made it?”

  “Don’t look at me like I’m trying to poison you. If I wanted to, I would have done it already.” He grazed my forehead with the tip of his finger. “Your brother’s husband brought it over.”

  Now that time, I did smile, thinking of sweet, wonderful James. “He makes the best soup.”

  “It smelled good. He wanted to see you, but you were sleeping.”

  I pulled the top of the comforter up, my muscles protesting that movement alone, but somehow I got it to go up the two inches to reach my chin. “He’s the best.”

  That made him blink. “You think somebody’s the best?”

  “He is,” I said. “My mom is too. So is my sister, Ruby. My sister Tali when she isn’t having girl problems.” I thought about it and swallowed again. “Lee’s pretty cool. My brothers are too, I guess. Aaron’s great. He can be on the list too.”

  Ivan made a noise, then scooted even further into the bed. I watched him and slid to the side to give him more room, wondering what the hell he was doing. His hand landed on the spot over the covers where my elbow was tucked inside, and he asked, almost hesitating, which wasn’t at all like him, “And your dad?”

  That’s how crappy I felt that I couldn’t even get mad at the mention of my dad’s name. Or disappointed, which said something too. But I told him the truth. “Not to me.”

  I’d barely gotten the words out when his eyes sliced in my direction.

  But he didn’t ask why I thought that, and I was genuinely relieved. He was the last person I wanted to talk about. If not the last, then in the top three. Top four for sure.

  “Anyone else on the list?” he asked after an awkward second while I’d been thinking about my dad.

  “No.”

  I didn’t miss the casual look he slipped me before mentioning, “I’ve won two gold medals.”

  “You don’t say,” I muttered sarcastically, watching him continue to shift on my mattress until his right side faced me.

  “Yeah,” he answered just as sarcastically. “Not one. Two. A few world championships too.”

  “What does that have to do with anything?” I croaked, my throat demanding water, as he then began to scoot backward until his spine met up with the headboard, just like mine had.

  Ivan kicked his leg
s into the air, toeing off one fancy black leather boot after another, letting each thump to ground. “Some people think I’m the best.”

  “Who?” I snorted weakly as I watched him settle his legs onto the bed, crossing one ankle over the other, showing me the purple and pink striped socks he had on.

  He angled his upper body just enough so he could watch me with both eyes, chin to his T-shirt-covered chest. “Lots of people.”

  I gasped, immediately regretting it because it made my throat ache. “I mean… I guess you’re pretty cool too.”

  Those ebony eyebrows went up. “You guess?”

  “I guess. Your skating is pretty good. And you’ve been really nice to me today. Yesterday. I don’t even know what day it is,” I mumbled. “You can be on the list too, if you’re going to make it awkward.”

  “Don’t sound so excited.”

  I laughed, wincing as I did it, and eyed the long body beside mine, the fingers knit on his chest that had at some point been running through my hair while I’d been at my worst. And without thinking about it, I scooted closer to him, wanting the touching again, wanting affection, lining up our hips and making my legs rest against the sides of his even under the covers. I swallowed, knowing somewhere inside of me he wouldn’t tease me about wanting to be closer to him, and tipped my head to the side, resting it on his shoulder. We had been closer than this every hour of the day for the last two months. It didn’t mean anything, I told myself. It didn’t mean a single thing. And that’s what I was going to go with, regardless of the knowledge that I had never, ever done something like this with bitch-ass Paul.

  “You are the best,” I told him, sounding about as weak as I felt, “at pairs skating.”

  Something landed softly on my head as he snickered, and I figured he was resting his head or cheek on top of mine. “Thanks for making sure to clarify that.”

  I laughed some more, the sting totally worth it. “You’ve been a good friend to me so far, but I really only have your sister to compare you to.”

  “Hmm,” he sighed, shifting in his spot beside me, before slipping his arm over my shoulder unexpectedly. It wasn’t like I was going to complain. It was warm and heavy, and I liked the way it made me feel: cocooned. Safe. I liked it a lot. “That’s true.”