by Sophia Henry
“Come back out with me,” he coaxed, grabbing my arm. I shook my head, but he was strong, and his tug wrenched me away from the wall.
“I don’t think she wants to dance right now,” an accented male voice growled.
Jeremy dropped my arm. “What the fuck, man?”
“Maybe I do,” I told the voice. I knew the voice. I was trying to be a hard-ass.
“Then you dance with me,” Aleksandr commanded, encircling me in his arms. The song blasting through the speakers wasn’t slow, but I didn’t care. I immediately felt safe wrapped in his embrace, swaying to the music. Resting my head on his chest, I shivered in anticipation of breathing in his sweet scent of clove cigarettes and mountain-fresh soap again.
Instead, he reeked of stale beer, which annoyed me because he always drank vodka. I wanted to strip his smelly clothes off and push him into the shower. I wanted to scrub the muscular swell of his arms and the ripples of his chest and abdomen. I wanted to push him up against the cold tiled wall and taste his tongue as hot water pelted our skin.
“Are you okay, Audushka?” Aleksandr said against my ear.
I couldn’t hear him with the thump of the bass in the background. I shrugged against his chest, nestling deeper into his arms, enjoying the fantasy while I had the opportunity.
“I need to get you home,” Aleksandr whispered, warm breath tickling my neck. The same part of my brain that was having shower fantasies about him wanted me to cover his mouth with my own, but I couldn’t lift my head.
“Audushka?”
His voice sounded miles away. Why was he leaving me?
“Audushka!”
My chin thudded against my chest and my head rolled to the side, as strong limbs pushed me away from the warm mountain I’d been clutching. Suddenly the floor disappeared, and I was wheeled through the air, as if on a Ferris wheel. I held on tight to the pole in front of me, in case I was to fall off.
“Get your fucking hands off her!” someone yelled.
The pole I was holding staggered back a few steps before staggering forward. I felt the force of the pole hit something, but I didn’t feel any pain. It was the last thing I remember before everything went black.
Chapter 9
A forceful knock on my window woke me up, though I had no recollection of how I got into my bed or when I fell asleep in the first place. My head pounded and my mouth felt like I’d eaten the stuffing out of a Pillow Pet. I pulled the covers over my head, convinced that the wind had caused the noise I’d heard, until the heavy rap started again. My hands shook as I continued to hide, curling my fingers around my blanket.
If you ignore things they go away, I reminded myself. Then I laughed, because ignoring everything was my family’s pathetic mantra. Ignoring an issue had never worked before, but I hoped tonight would be an exception. Soon the rap turned to scratching and fumbling as someone tried to open the window.
“Auden,” a voice called in a loud whisper from outside. “Hey, Aud!”
Awesome. Whoever it was knew my name. I lay still for a moment, deciding if it was a positive or a negative sign. Just go away, I silently willed the stranger.
“Audushka, open the window. It’s fucking freezing!”
My heart sped up as I threw the blanket off and kicked my feet until it lay in a pile of fleece on the floor. I stumbled out of bed and pulled up the shade to find Aleksandr jumping up and down, rubbing his hands together.
“What are you doing?” I asked, after unlocking the latch on the window and shoving it upward. Though I knew my bed head was untamable, pushing the hair away from my face made me feel better.
Aleksandr clutched the windowsill and attempted to propel himself through the opening but failed and fell back to the ground. Literally fell. Not that the drop was far.
“I needed to see you,” he said while brushing dirt off his butt. “I couldn’t wait.”
I glanced at the clock: 3:06 a.m. “You couldn’t wait until I get to the arena later?”
“No. I could not.” He hoisted himself up again. His knuckles changed from pink to white as he gripped the window, and his feet scratched against the house like he was scaling a flat rock wall.
Grabbing ahold of his biceps, I jerked him inside, unapologetic about causing his graceless face-plant onto my floor. Served him right. I poked my head outside before sliding the window shut. A person jumping in through the window of a house at three a.m. might be a normal occurrence in many parts of Detroit, but we still had a few good neighbors who would be alarmed.
“Is this what you sleep in?” Aleksandr reached for the hem of my pink plaid boxer shorts, which I’d paired with a vintage Sergei Fedorov T-shirt. His eyes weren’t focused. Was how I looked at three a.m. so repulsive?
“You expected lingerie?” I asked. What the hell was he doing here?
“No, it’s perfect.” He smiled. His fingers missed the hem of my boxers and grazed my bare calf.
“Holy!” I jumped when his Popsicle fingers touched me. “Get up, would you? What’s your deal?” I faked agitation, but excitement would have been the best word to describe my feelings. It wasn’t like guys snuck into my bedroom all the time. Or ever.
Collapsing onto my bed, I leaned over and snatched my blanket from the floor before whipping it over my shoulders and snuggling into it. The temperature of my room must’ve dropped ten degrees when the arctic winds swirled in through the window.
Aleksandr crawled to my bed and climbed in next to me. Suddenly aware of my cold and braless state, I pulled the blanket tighter around my shoulders.
“You look perfect,” he slurred, closing his eyes and leaning toward my face. When I scooted back, his face fell into my lap, which wasn’t the kind of kiss I wanted either. I inched back again, and banged his head with my knee.
“Fuck.” He rubbed his chin.
“Sorry.” I reached out to touch his face, as if my palm, like a mother’s kiss, could take away the sting. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.”
He caught my hand and pulled me toward him, wrapping me in his arms and pressing his lips to mine. When I didn’t pull away, he pushed me onto my back and crawled over me, pinning me down. As he lowered himself onto me, the metal zipper of his leather jacket touched the bare skin of my stomach where my shirt had ridden up, and a tremor shook my whole body. I continued kissing him until something hard under his jacket jabbed my rib cage.
“Sasha.” I shoved him back. “What is up with you?”
“I needed to make sure you were okay,” he said, caressing my side from under my arm down to my hip and back up again. Then he leaned down and pressed his lips to my collarbone.
“We shouldn’t do this.” This time his mouth caused the shiver coursing through my veins rather than the cold. Something jabbed me in the ribs again. “What the hell is in your jacket?”
Aleksandr sat up, dug into his coat, and removed a half-empty bottle of vodka. Then he unscrewed the cap and took a long pull before offering it to me. I shook my head.
“Forgot I brought this.” He screwed the cap back on the bottle. “I love when I am Sasha to you.”
Aleksandr seized my lips again, his tongue plunging into my mouth to explore. Then he caught my lower lip with his teeth and tugged. While he kissed me, Aleksandr squeezed my hips as if my love handles could save him from drowning. Despite my intention to keep things platonic between us, I got lost in his touch. His fingers slipped under my shirt, and his calloused thumbs skimmed the skin of my stomach. When his hands crept under the waistband of my boxers, I jumped like a mischievous cat squirted with water.
Aleksandr pulled his hands out and jerked his head up. “What’s wrong?”
“Did you think we were going to have sex because you got drunk and climbed in my window?”
“We don’t have to have sex, Audushka. There are other things,” he said, placing his fingers where they’d been a magnificent moment ago on my waistband. His lips curved into a sexy smile, causing the skin around his eyes
to wrinkle. “Unless you want to?”
Hell yes, was the truthful answer, but I wouldn’t admit that in the position we were in. Or ever.
“What are you doing here?” I asked instead.
“I wanted to make sure you were okay,” he repeated, releasing my boxers and rolling onto his back, fumbling to remove his coat. After a few sloppy yanks at the sleeves, he finally tugged off the jacket and threw it to the end of the bed.
Had I missed something?
I didn’t get a chance to ask because I heard my grandparents’ bed creak, and I sat upright. Startled, Aleksandr sat up, too, scanning the room for an invisible attacker.
Shoot. Don’t come down to use the bathroom, I willed whichever grandparent was stirring. It wouldn’t have surprised me if one of them had heard the window incident because they weren’t very sound sleepers.
I placed my fingers over Aleksandr’s mouth to keep him from speaking, and sat sculpture-still on the bed while I listened for more noises. After a few minutes of silence above us, I chalked it up to someone rolling over rather than getting out. When I lowered my hand, Aleksandr clotheslined me at the waist, taking me down to a lying position.
I giggled though I still couldn’t relax. My mind was all over the place. “Sasha, how did you get here?”
“Jeep is outside.” He closed his eyes and patted the bed in search of something. When he found my hand, he laced his fingers through mine. “I think.”
“You think?” I asked, pulling my hand away. I didn’t want to continue this Twilight Zone experience.
“I might have driven. I was home, then I was climbing through your window.”
“Are you joking?” I bolted upright.
“I don’t know,” he said, opening his eyes in confusion. “I might be.”
I jumped out of bed and rushed into the living room. Pushing up on my tiptoes, I craned my neck to see out the tiny window in the front door. His Jeep wasn’t on the road. It wasn’t in the driveway either. At least he hadn’t driven. How the hell had he gotten here? And how was he getting home?
Somewhat relieved, I turned to return to my room and ran smack into Aleksandr.
And he was almost naked.
Evidently, the treacherous five-step journey from my bedroom to the living room was more than Aleksandr’s clothes could handle. His discarded T-shirt lay a few steps behind him and his jeans pooled around his feet. The hard planes of his chest and defined stomach muscles took my breath away. His tattoos, which I’d noticed during shirtless interviews with the media but never had the opportunity to see in depth, were amazing. Intricate Cyrillic script spanned the length of both his sides; bold, haunting, beautiful. Maybe I’d ask him about them on a day when we aren’t at each other’s throats, or in a situation like this, which I still couldn’t explain.
Pushing aside questions about his tattoos, I rubbed my face with my hands to regain a semblance of composure.
That’s when he decided to drop his boxer briefs.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” I hissed, using one of my grandma’s favorite expressions.
I stood in front of him, mouth agape because I’d never seen a naked man in real life. Near-nude men filled the Pilots locker room while I translated, but strategically placed towels always covered any indecent parts. I’d seen photos of models wearing their pants so low you could see the V of their pelvic bones and the “happy trail,” but I’d never seen where the trail led. Sure, textbooks from health class had drawings of male parts and how they functioned, but a scientific drawing didn’t prepare me for seeing the real thing. It wasn’t that intimidating, but then, it wasn’t “ready for battle.”
Don’t look, Auden. Do not look.
“Sasha, my grandparents are upstairs,” I whispered. “You need to get dressed.”
“No. I need to take a piss,” he responded, scratching his head.
Hoping Aleksandr would understand the universal sign for shhhh, I put a finger to my lips. Then I took his hand and led him to the bathroom, stooping to scoop up his clothes on the way. I stood outside the door and let him complete his business. When he stumbled out, I placed my hands on his back and directed him toward my room. His muscles rippled under my palms as he walked.
Thankfully, Aleksandr had the decency to slip on the boxer briefs I stuffed into his hands before he climbed into my bed and passed out. Cold.
I scanned my room for the next best sleeping option: dresser, desk, or floor. I sure as hell wasn’t going to be the one on the floor.
I grabbed one of Aleksandr’s arms and tried to pull him out. When he didn’t budge, I remembered from reading the Pilots media guide that I was tugging on two hundred pounds of dead weight.
I took a step back from the bed, crossing my arms over my chest as I strategized. Then I snapped my fingers and climbed over him. I tried to push him out, but quickly realized I had the same problem as pulling. I thought about leaning against the wall for leverage and pushing him out with my feet. Not a good idea because of the noise his body hitting the floor would make.
I sighed in defeat and, because I had no other option, shimmied under the covers. I snuggled up to him, laying my head on his chest since his massive body took up my entire twin-sized bed. His steady heartbeat was my personal lullaby. The rhythm of my head rising and falling with his shallow breaths rocked me to sleep. Was it possible to feel the peace inside him transfer into me? I reached out and brushed my hand through the Mohawk I loved so much.
When I heard another creak from upstairs, I froze.
When I heard footsteps, I bolted upright.
I shook Aleksandr’s shoulder a few times. He was dead to the world. “Oh, come on!” I was worried because my grandparents had a tendency to check on me during the night. It was either still a habit from when I was a kid, or they wanted to know if I’d made it home from the bar.
I shook Aleksandr again, harder this time. No response. My heart raced as I contemplated what I should do next. Pull the covers over him and run to the closet? Climb on top of him to give the illusion of only one bump? Time was running out with each heavy footstep pounding the stairs.
I yanked the blanket over Aleksandr’s head and slung my arm and leg across his body, so it looked like I was hugging a big body pillow. I didn’t own a body pillow, but whatever grandparent looked in on me wouldn’t know that.
Sure enough, I heard a scrape against the shaggy red rug in front of my door. There was no light on in the hallway, so I had complete darkness going for me. I squeezed my eyes shut, which wouldn’t make me invisible but made me feel better. I wouldn’t be surprised if whoever stood there could hear my heart as it bumped hard against my chest, attempting to escape. I held my breath until the door shut again, then let it out slowly. I stayed motionless until I heard the toilet flush, the faucet turn on and off, and heavy steps plod up the stairs. I’m not sure if I moved until I heard the familiar creak indicating that someone had gotten back into bed.
This sucked. All the kids in high school who bragged about how exciting it was to sneak people into their rooms were big fat liars. Who could handle the pressure? It wasn’t fun. It wasn’t rebellious. It wasn’t even worth it. It’s not like I would do anything with Aleksandr in my bedroom while my grandparents were upstairs.
Although he was naked at one point. And we had been making out. Some people might consider that “doing something.”
I took the covers off Aleksandr’s head, hoping I hadn’t suffocated him. Nope. Still breathing. I took a deep breath and pushed my body against his, hugging his back. It felt awkward, and I wasn’t sure I could sleep that way, so I turned around, my back against his, and curled up. Then I felt bad.
What was my problem? He wouldn’t be mad if he woke up and I had my back to him. And why should I care if he did wake up angry? Let him be pissed. Screw him for knocking on my window at three in the morning, drunk.
I yanked my pillow out from under his head and flipped it to the cool side before I nestled into it.
&nb
sp; Awesome.
After several attempts to elbow and ninja kick myself out of the gigantic garlic press trying to squeeze me through its tiny holes, I gave up, too weak to stop it from clamping down and mincing me. Suddenly, my whole body shook, and garlic juice sprayed over my neck.
My eyes flew open, and I realized it was muscular human arms squeezing the life out of me, not a personified garlic press (thank goodness). At some point while we slept, Aleksandr must have rolled over and put his arms around me. The vise grip might not have bothered me while I was asleep, but now I found it restricting—and annoying.
Who the hell dreams of being squeezed to death by a giant garlic press? I’d hate to hear what an interpretation of that said about my mental health.
“What the fuck?” Aleksandr said through a yawn.
“Nice language.” My voice must have brought him to the reality of where he was, because his eyes widened and he bolted upright.
“Oh, hey,” he said, looking down at me. Then he smiled and laughed a little as he surveyed my room. Avoiding me.
“Morning,” I replied. I had to admit, as cool as I was trying to be, I wondered if he felt as awkward as I did. What if he never wanted to be here at all? Maybe coming over was just a stupid idea that sounded good at the peak of his drunkenness. He wasn’t speaking, which supported my conclusion that he was not excited about where he woke up.
I needed to stop caring. Now.
“You’re hot first thing in the morning.” Aleksandr leaned over, pressing his soft lips to mine.
Holy crap. I did not see that coming. Scrambling to leave: yes. Kissing me: no.
“Are you still drunk?” I asked when he pulled back.
He chuckled, his body shaking the bed. “Probably, but I would’ve done that anyway.”
“Well, you shouldn’t have done that. Doing something drunk is one thing. Doing it sober, totally different.”