by Kitty Parker
Massively freaked out, I whipped around and gave the offending male a glare.
He leered at me suggestively.
Just as I was getting ready to tell him off and/or shove him, he was forcibly removed from my presence by none other than Mischa Ivanov, hot Russian extraordinaire.
"Sorry about him," he greeted me, shouting to be heard over the thundering music. "He is a random townie who always crashes these fraternity parties."
I smiled at him warmly. "Thanks, Mischa. Are you in this frat, too?"
He chuckled, as though the very idea of him being in a frat were completely absurd. "No, no. My roommate from last year is. He always invites me to the parties."
"Oh, alright," I replied, nodding. "These are my friends, Elizabeth and Elena." I indicated said friends before gesturing to Mischa. "Guys, this is Mischa. He's in my bio class."
He shook their hands. "I am very pleased to meet you both."
"I love your accent," Elizabeth commented. "Where're you from?"
"Russia," he answered. "Can you really tell?"
She shrugged. "You don't use contractions."
"Ah, I see. I will have to learn, then." He turned to me. "Anyway…Evie, will you do me the honor of dancing with me?"
I grinned at his adorable politeness. I was a sucker for that sort of thing. "Sure."
Returning my grin and taking my hand, he led me a short distance away from my friends and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close to him, though not so close that it was creepy. He was significantly taller than I was, but he bent his knees a bit to accommodate me.
"This is your first year, yes?" he inquired.
I nodded. "Yeah. You?"
"It is my second," he replied.
I grinned. "So you already know the ropes."
"You could say that," he chuckled. "Do you like it here so far?"
"Oh yes, very much," I answered. "I've liked all my classes so far, the campus is beautiful, and the people are all really nice."
His blue eyes twinkled. "Am I nice?"
"You are very nice," I affirmed.
"Is that a good thing?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Well," I began. "I think it is. I like nice boys."
"Choroshey. Good."
With that, he gently pulled me closer to him and I wrapped my arms around his neck. He didn't exactly turn me into a puddle of goo or anything, but I couldn't deny that his lovely, toned body felt incredibly good against mine, not to mention the fact that he was an excellent dancer.
"Ti takaya krasivaya," he whispered, his mouth hovering close to my ear.
I had no idea what that meant, of course, but the feeling of his breath against my neck sent a shiver down my spine. Who knew that Russian could be so…enticing?
When the song we were dancing to ended, Mischa pulled back and smiled at me. "Would you like to go get a drink?" he asked.
I agreed, noticing how thirsty I was, and the two of us made our way off the dance floor, past the drunken Beirut players, and into the kitchen. I was relatively unimpressed by the array of drinks set out along the counter. The only brands of beer present were the sort that my father and I referred to as "weasel piss," and the keg was undoubtedly filled with something similar.
Opting for a diet coke, I watched as Mischa fixed himself a rather interesting mixed drink. Opening the fridge, he extracted a jug of apple cider and poured it into a cup until it was about three-fourths full. He then dug around in a nearby cabinet until he located a bottle of brandy, which he used to fill the remaining fourth of his cup.
He chuckled at the weird look I was giving him. "I call it 'yabloko-brandy'," he informed me. "Yabloko is 'apple' in Russian."
"Apple-brandy," I repeated. "Very creative. I wouldn't have thought those would go together."
He shrugged. "Experimenting is fun."
Clutching our drinks, we headed out into the back yard. A number of people were lounging about in lawn chairs, chatting and laughing with friends, while others were running around on the grass doing God-knows-what and making one hell of a racket. Mischa and I meandered over to the back of the lot to take in the view of Cascadilla Creek Gorge, which ran right behind the house.
"I will always love how beautiful Ithaca is," he commented, gazing upstream toward one of the city's many waterfalls.
I, on the other hand, looked directly across the creek toward a small, four-storey building that jutted out into the gorge. "See that house, there?" I asked my companion.
Noting the direction of my pointing finger, he nodded.
I smiled wistfully. "My dad lived there for a couple of years when he was in college. Rented out the third floor with a couple of friends."
Mischa seemed interested. "Really? Your father went to Cornell?"
"Waaaaay back in the day," I replied. "He was so excited when I told him I got in. When we came up to visit last spring, he showed me that house and told me that he and his friends used to have snowball fights with the Lambda Chi Alpha boys from across the gorge."
"And your mother?" Mischa inquired. "She went to Cornell as well?"
"Actually, she went to Ithaca College, over on the other hill," I explained. "She spent a lot of time with friends over here, though, so they knew each other."
The story of how my parents met was actually a pretty interesting one. When he was a senior, my dad had been president of a theatre group called the Savoyards that put on Gilbert and Sullivan operettas. It was open to people from Ithaca College and the town as well, and my mom, who'd been a junior at Ithaca College, had seen an advertisement for auditions and decided to check it out. She'd gone over to one of the rooms in Willard Straight Hall, where the try-outs were being held, and my dad was the one who'd opened the door for her when she knocked. The rest was history.
My mother had always told me that the Cornell campus was a great setting for romance. Apparently, if a couple walked around the entire perimeter of Beebe Lake holding hands, they were destined to become engaged, at least according to Cornell legend. It had worked for my parents, anyway.
Mischa snapped me out of my musings by suggesting we go back inside. We got a bit sidetracked, however, when I noticed a familiar figure slouched over one of the outdoor tables, beer in hand.
"Annabelle?" I called, jogging to her side.
She raised her head. "Evie! Hidi-ho, neighborinoooooo," she slurred, quoting Ned Flanders.
"How many drinks have you had?" I inquired.
She ignored me. "Who's the hottie you've got there?"
I blushed slightly, but Mischa laughed it off, though he seemed somewhat bashful at the compliment. "I am sure you do not mean me."
"Uh-huh, I do," Annabelle insisted.
Mischa grinned. "I am Mischa Ivanov. Pleased to meet you."
She waved enthusiastically. "Hi, hottie! Nice to meet you - hic - too!" She went to take another swig of her beer, but I snatched it out of her grasp.
"No more of that for you," I stated firmly, downing the bottle to prevent her from drinking it. In spite of Annabelle's loud romantic trysts, she was a sweet girl and I really didn't want her to die of alcohol poisoning.
She giggled, apparently not too miffed by the loss of her drink. "I liiiiike this frat," she announced. "I wanna come here more often. It'sfuuuuun."
"I think it's about time for you to head home," I informed her. "I'm going to go round up my friends. Mischa, could you-?"
He nodded, anticipating my request. "I will stay with her until you come back."
I smiled at him gratefully. "Thanks."
"Not at all, Tsipotchka."
Assuming this was a Russian endearment of some sort and feeling rather special about it, I headed back into the house. I had only just passed through the kitchen when an arm slung itself around my shoulders, preventing me from going further.
"Eeeeevie," Lars slurred, his breath reeking of beer. "How's it goin'?"
I sighed, starting to get rather sick of drunk people. "I'm alright."
&nbs
p; "Gooood," he replied, grabbing my right hand with his and shaking it. "Sooooo, what doooorm are you in?"
"Um, the Mews."
He shook my hand again. "Awesome. What's your maaaaaajor?"
What was this, twenty questions? "I don't know, economics, maybe?"
Once again, he gave my hand a hardy shake.
Desperate to get away from the crazy hand-shaking frat boy, I looked around the room for help. Thankfully, I caught the eye of a certain redhead, who had been pouring himself a drink in the kitchen. "Help!" I mouthed.
Tully ambled casually over to where I stood and observed my predicament with an amused grin.
"What's your favorite claaaaaaass?" Lars continued.
"Er, macroeconomics, I guess."
He shook my hand a fourth time.
"Tully!" I hissed. "A little help, maybe?"
My friend merely chuckled as Lars, still with his arm around me, started swaying blissfully to the music that was blaring in the background. "Nope. This is way too entertaining."
I glared at him.
He smiled innocently.
I started racking my brain for a way to get Lars off of me. Seizing upon a sudden burst of inspiration, I poked the intoxicated boy in the side. "Hey Lars, look! A topless girl!"
He took the bait. "Where?!" he exclaimed, looking around wildly.
"Out there in the yard!"
Removing his arm from my shoulders, he stumbled drunkenly out the back door.
Breathing a sigh of relief, I fixed my so-called friend with a nasty glare. "Thank you so much for your help, Tully."
"You're welcome!" he replied brightly.
I planted my hands on my hips. "I'm thinking that apologies and/or groveling are in order."
"How about I dance with you instead?" he suggested. "You know I do a mean jitterbug."
I thought about it. "Fine, but if a drunk person's ever hanging on you, don't come crying to me!"
Rolling his eyes, Tully grabbed my hand and pulled me into the living room and onto the dance floor. The song Hips Don't Lie had just come on, bringing back some unpleasant memories of a dance I'd gone to as a sophomore where a really sketchy guy had hit on me nonstop. I wrinkled my nose at the thought before Tully turned around to face me.
As was customary, he wrapped his arms around my waist while I placed mine around his neck. Although I no longer had romantic feelings for him, I could feel the old physical attraction sparking up again as he started to move against me, and with it came the past. The good and the bad battled it out in my head, creating a dizzying mish-mosh of memories.
…I'll be right here when you wake up… …God, Evie! I can't believe I actually cared about you!…
…I really only make you watch horror movies because I love watching you squirm…
…None of this is good enough for you anymore, is it, Evangeline Kaiser?…
…I'll never let anybody hurt you…
…I think that you're a back-stabbing, overachieving, condescending, pretentious BITCH!…
I willed myself to stop dwelling on it, to move on as I'd promised both myself and Tully, but it was impossible to do with his hands on my back, his dark red hair tickling my fingertips, our bodies pressed together. I needed to get away.
"Oh!" I exclaimed, suddenly remembering the reason I'd come inside in the first place and finding it to be the perfect excuse to stop dancing. "I almost forgot: we have to get everyone together and get out of here."
Tully's face contorted into an expression of confusion. "Why?"
"Annabelle's out back and she's totally sloshed," I explained. "We need to take her back to the dorm."
He removed his arms from around my waist. "Who's Annabelle?"
"My neighbor." I peered around the room in search of my friends. Seeing Amory, I caught his eye and waved him over. With him came Elena and Elizabeth.
"What's going on, Evie?" he inquired once he'd pushed his way through the crowd.
"We have to take Annabelle home," I clarified.
Elena groaned. "Oh no, what'd she do?"
"She's knackered."
"So you're going to take her home?" Amory shook his head with an amused grin. "You're too nice for your own good, sometimes, Evie."
"Well, excuse her for not being a sadist," Elizabeth snapped. "I think it speaks very highly of Evie that she's willing to help someone out like that. She's like the Good Samaritan. Stop being a Levite!"
Amory blinked. "Did you just somehow insult me using a Biblical reference?"
"You just got Biblically owned, dude," Tully chuckled.
Amory shot him a look. "Whatever. Let's just go."
"Annabelle's out back," I informed him.
He led the way out through the kitchen, obviously peeved.
I hung back to chat with Elizabeth. "Nice insult."
She reddened slightly. "I have no idea where that came from. Just slipped out, I guess."
"It was pretty hilarious, though," I pointed out. "And it did shut him up."
"It's not like I use Biblical insults on regular basis."
I chuckled. "Amory just brings out that side of you, eh?"
She shrugged. "He gets to me. He's a jerk."
"He's really not that bad, you know," I sighed, shoving open the back door. "I wish everyone could see the side of him that I see."
"Well, if he ever showed it, I'd see it."
Our little conversation came to a halt as we reached Annabelle, still sitting at her table. She was laughing like mad and had taken to poking a rather helpless-looking Mischa with the pointy toes of her stilettos.
"Poke," she giggled. "Poke. Poke."
"Hey, Annabelle," I greeted her, sending Mischa an apologetic look. "How about we take you home, hm?"
"But Mischa's fuuuuuuun," she whined.
"I think Mischa's had enough 'fun' for one night," I chuckled, mouthing a 'thank you' to my Russian friend. He smiled at me warmly and nodded his head.
"Come on, sweetie," Elena chimed in, moving to rest a hand on our neighbor's shoulders. "It's time to go back to the Mews."
She pouted. "I dun wannaaaaa!"
"Too bad," Amory grumbled.
Elizabeth smacked him upside the head. "Be nice!"
He glared at her.
"We'll give you some chocolate if you come with us," Elena offered, attempting to coax Annabelle out of her chair.
"That makes you sound like a sketchy kidnapper or something," I commented, keeping my voice low.
Annabelle, however, was sucked in by the bribe. Her eyes lit up at the mention of chocolaty goodness "Okay!" she chirped, leaping to her feet and nearly falling flat on her face. Tully caught her just in time.
"We're going to need to help her walk," he noted.
Nodding, Elizabeth looped one of her arms around her shoulders, letting Elena take the other.
Saying our goodbyes to Mischa, our little group headed off. I sighed, knowing that the walk would be a long one. Lambda Chi Alpha was way the heck down by Cascadilla Creek Gorge, at the south end of campus. The Mews, along with all the other freshman dorms, was up on North Campus, a good fifteen minute walk away - twenty, really, considering that we were schlepping a giggling drunk along with us. I contemplated catching one of the TCAT busses that ran around the city, but decided against it; there was no way the driver wouldn't notice that Annabelle was smashed, and I really didn't want to land her in trouble for underage drinking.
"Hey, Evie," Tully whispered in my ear as we walked along, holding me back a bit from the group. "Even though Annabelle's drunk, she seems nice. You know if she's single?" His inquiry sounded as sincere as could be, and his eyes spoke of genuine curiosity.
I snorted with laughter. "Well, I don't know if I'd say that. Sure, she's not in a relationship, but she does have, uh…relations."
He raised an eyebrow, not catching my drift.
"Let's just say she's not the relationship type," I elaborated. "And as far as I know, you're not a one-night-stand kind of guy."<
br />
Then again, my brain informed me. He might have changed. You haven't seen him in four years, you know.
I squirmed uncomfortably, willing my errant brain to kindly shut the fuck up.
Tully's green eyes lit up with realization. "Oh… That's too bad, then. Oh well, plenty of other fish in the sea, right?"
I nodded in agreement. "There are over thirteen thousand undergraduates, after all. Makes for a great dating pool, don't you think?"
"Definitely."
"Wheeeee!" Annabelle exclaimed, kicking her feet up in the air.
I chuckled. Drunk people could be annoying, but they certainly were amusing.
* * *
The following Tuesday evening found me sitting in front of my laptop, staring at a completely blank word document, completely clueless as to what I should write. Although I had my bio lab the next day, my first class in the morning was a seminar on the works of Goethe… in German. While it was true that I'd been studying the language for over four years and was more or less fluent, I really had no idea how to go about writing an essay on religious imagery in Faust. The paper wasn't due until that Friday, but I'd wanted to get a jump on it.
Well, so much for that.
I nearly jumped out of my skin as my phone began to vibrate on my desk, emitting the opening strains of Baby Got Back by Sir Mix-a-Lot (Elizabeth had set it as my ringtone when I wasn't paying attention, and I hadn't gotten around to changing it).
"I like big butts and I cannot lie,
You other brothers can't deny,
When a girl walks in with an itty-bitty waist
And a round thing in your face you get-"
I hastily answered, blushing as Elena tittered loudly from her bed. "Hello?"
The voice on the other end sounded somewhat distressed. "Evie?"
"Mom?" I inquired, not having expected her to call.
"How are you, sweetie?" she replied.
I furrowed my brow, waving to Elena and leaving the room for a more private location. "I'm alright. What's going on? You sound upset."
She sighed loudly. "It's your brother."
I immediately panicked. My ten year-old brother was the most precious thing to me in the entire world, and it was safe to say that I was incredibly protective of him. I wasn't overbearing, of course; I let him have his fun. If anyone ever tried to hurt him, though, I'd go completely berserk. My family loyalty was strong in general, but it was especially prevalent when Jamie was concerned.