by Jen Davis
The sentence is filled with emotions I can’t even begin to unravel. But for the first time since I had met Valentin Nikolaev, I don’t hate him so much.
Not when I can hear the pain in his voice.
I turn on the seat and lay my head on my arms, looking out. The city flies by us. “Maybe. But my mom always said that it’s harder to be mean than to be kind. And I believe it.”
***
When we get off, I start getting excited. I tug on Valentin’s shirt, jumping up and down. “I’ve never been around the city alone!” And we’re only in the train station. I can’t imagine what it’s going to be like to walk through the streets. My heart beats faster.
Valentin laughs, looking down at me. “Yes, I know.” He doesn’t seem to mind that I’m tugging at him like a toddler.
I look around at the platform, which is crowded. “Whoa!” I point at a guy playing the guitar and a woman singing next to him. “That’s so cool!”
“Kitten—”
But I don’t hear what he has to say because I jog up to the couple. There are several people watching them, but most people walk by. They all have headphones in their ears or are typing away on their phones. I shake my head, a little sad. It is their loss.
I examine the beautiful musicians. The woman is in her late twenties. She has a pixie cut with bright red dyed hair and her face is dark tan, a beautiful shine of melanin. I smile, thinking of Mell. Her eyes are closed as she sings, her beautiful voice filling the air.
The strums of the guitar flows through the air. I watch them both wide-eyed as the man joins in. He looks like a Matthew. He looks at the woman with a face filled with a complete and utter love.
He looks at her like she’s his world, like she’s the most perfect thing he’s ever seen, like even though they’re singing on a platform in New York City, and no one’s stopping to hear, it’s enough. It’s enough because Cecile is with him.
I feel Valentin behind me. “Kitten.” His voice is low in my ear.
I lay back on his chest, exhaling with a smile. It feels like the most natural thing in this moment. “Aren’t they just so beautiful?”
I hear him chuckle.
I turn around and look up at him. “What? They are. Look at them.” I beam when Cecile opens her eyes and turns to him. When she sings, it’s to him. Like he’s the only validation she needs for her breathtaking voice.
The one thing that comes to my mind is a Fault in Our Stars reference.
The beautiful couple is beautiful.
I grip Valentin’s hand, forcing him to look. “Look. They look so perfect, don’t they?” I laugh giddily. “Matthew is totally whipped!”
Valentin turns to look at me with a gentle smile. “Matthew?”
I wave it away. “Yeah, yeah. She’s Cecile and he’s Matthew. They’re in love.” I inhale deeply, and spin around yelling, “They’re in love!”
No one thinks what I’m doing is weird. No one looks at me strangely. Another train stops and a crowd of people walk out.
Valentin grips my waist and pulls me toward the wall. He pins me against a corner. And as the train whips by us, the roar fills our ears. The sound of people talking on their phones, footsteps walking, and the faraway strum of Mathew’s guitar surrounds us.
And in that moment, I look up at him and I feel so free. I feel completely free. My eyes are bright and I wrap my arms around his neck, whispering. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you—”
He presses his lips softly against mine and my words are swallowed by the kiss.
And this time, I kiss him back.
Chapter 27
Caterina
I can feel his shock. The way his hand slackens around my waist as if his body has been stilled by what I have done. I have no idea what I am doing and think nothing of the consequences. I just want to do what feels so, so good.
He tastes like magic, like stars in the sky, like exploding fireworks and his lips feel so soft, yet hard and demanding at the same time. My heart pounds against my chest, against his. He is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced, and deep in my bones, I know I will never experience it again. I don’t know if that is good or bad, but I don’t want to think about it.
There are only two of us, two teenagers, in the city that never sleeps, with Cecile’s voice a soundtrack to our moment.
In that moment, I wish and hope upon a star, not for the first time, but most definitely the most potent, that I am a normal teenager. That he is a normal teenager.
That we have no scheme up our sleeves ready to hurl at each other the first chance we get.
Valentin lifts his hand ever so gently up, his hands memorizing my body like he is painting on a canvas. Finally, he trails up my neck and grips my face gently in both of his hands. By this point, our lips are only barely touching. I want more. More of him, more of him. His lips, which are incredibly soft and full dominate my own.
He tilts my face and deepens the kiss. The shock must have worn off because he is controlling again. But I don’t mind.
Every nerve in my body tingles and I grip his hand through my fingers. Whatever he is doing with his touch has jolted my body into another land. “You taste so fucking sweet, Kitten.”
Even though he is intense, he is taking it slowly. This time is different than the others. This time, he let me learn him in ways he hadn’t when he stole my first kiss or touched my virgin body in that room.
My subconscious cringes. Virgin body? What century are you from—
Shut up!
I can feel people pushing past us, the bustling noise getting even louder. By now, Cecile’s voice is floating in the background.
Valentin presses up against me even closer and I gasp, nerves riding a shockwave all down my spine. Cushioning my head against the wall, he dominates my body just with a kiss. I don’t realize that we haven’t come up for oxygen until Valentin pushes me away slightly.
My body, without asking my brain first, reaches for him again. I blink, eyes wide and find him watching me with his lips curled at the edges. “Easy now, Kitten.”
I blush and turn away. The reality of what I have done is sinking in.
Why had I done that?
Because you’re dumb.
You’re right.
I berate myself for the small action even more than I do for starting the kiss in the first place.
When had I become so attentive and accusing of my actions?
“Hey, you have nothing to be embarrassed about.” Valentin’s grip on my chin tightens and he turns me, forcing me to face him. My heart is in my throat. I gulp and look away, at anything but those dark, captivating eyes that I hate.
He tilts my face up and says in a low voice, “Hey…hey…look at me.”
“Caterina. Now.”
His name passing my lips shocks me as much as the firm and demanding tone of his words. My eyes snap up to his, obeying without a second’s hesitation.
He looks pleased. “Good.”
His eyes turn soft as he takes in my face. He opens his mouth to say something but closes it again. And suddenly, I have to break the thick silence between us. I hate being examined like this, as if I am revealing something I haven’t given consent to.
My eyebrows pull in and I glare up at him. I demand, “What?” probably a little too defensively, but I don’t care. I just want him to stop looking at me like that.
His lips lift into a grin. “The claws have come out.”
I roll my eyes and move to push his hands away from my face. “Okay, I’m done. “
But his hand grips me still.
“I’m not.” His voice is a low rumble.
His thumb brushes the edge of my bottom lip gently, as if with a feather. Without thinking, I instinctively lick my lips to get the intruder’s touch away from me.
But I have forgotten his thumb is still there. My tongue swipes across his thumb. I hear his sharp inhale. Even in the dark light of the station, I can physically see his body tense. His eyes glaze
darkly.
Suddenly, he looks away, dropping his hand as if I have burned him. He turns away, his movement slow and languid as if he has just gotten bored of me. I flush, feeling embarrassed.
He throws back, “We should probably get going.” His voice is thick and low.
My eyes flash across the station and I see a train arriving, the full force of it drowning out most of the noise. I jog behind Valentin, yelling, “But we didn’t go to the restaurant yet!”
He doesn’t turn back, like I’m not worth his full attention anymore. He starts joining the crowd to stand in the platform. “This is enough exploring for today. We’ll go tomorrow.” I barely hear his voice over the crowd’s noise.
He is weaving through the crowd and I am losing sight of him. “Okay, okay! Stop walking so fast!”
I look back at where Cecile and Matthew should be, but the crowd has swallowed them. I want to leave some money in their bag but I am already losing sight of Valentin. Growing frustrated, I yell out, “Valentin!”
I can see people giving me side glances, but quickly turn back to their phones after a moment. I am crushed into the crowd of people and am pushed into the train.
For a moment, I can’t breathe. I grip the nearest metal pole and shut my eyes.
Breathe, breathe, breathe.
You’re okay.
You’re not in the water.
You’re fine.
They’re gone.
Breath, Caterina. You’re okay. You’re safe.
I whimper, “Where are you?” To who, I don’t know. Maybe to the oxygen which has seemed to have escaped my body.
Mostly to Valentin who has deserted me.
***
Mell spots something is different about me right as I walk into the locker rooms. Thankfully, Pool is over so we are starting Basketball. Not that I like sports much, but anything that doesn’t involve water, I am fine with. I had actually managed to get out of Pool for a whole week because of “feminine reasons.”
Mell slips into her tank top and quickly sheds her pants. “You look like you’ve seen a whole new world, K.”
A smile lights up my face. “That’s because I have.” I turn around and shove my bag into my locker.
Her eyes widen. “You had sex?”
At that exact moment, Cassandra passes us with her herd of giggling followers. Her eyes say everything. Not just rage, but also hatred and something else I can’t pinpoint.
After they pass, I slam my locker shut and shove Mell, hissing, “Dude, they heard you. And now they think I…with Valentin…” My face twists in disgust. “Ugh!”
But Mell is watching the door as they leave.
My eyebrows furrow. “What?”
She shakes her head as if trying to shake off something. “Nothing. I just…” She turns to me with a grim face. “None of them said anything.”
“So? Isn’t that good?”
All she said was, “Hm.”
Slipping on her shorts, she closes her own locker and starts walking. I catch up to her. “It’s good! That means they’re leaving me alone. Maybe that bathroom stuff finally quieted them down. I mean, it wasn’t even really that big of a deal because it wasn’t like Valentin left her for me. He said that he just didn’t…” I realize I am rambling. I don’t even believe my own words.
Mell holds the door open for me with her foot. Her voice is strangely low and thoughtful. “Silence from a giggling and gossiping herd is never a good sign.”
***
When my ride arrives, I immediately see that Dad isn’t there. Only Mom.
Awesome! Maybe he is finally going to stop coming every day.
I slip in, dropping my bag on the seat next to me, “Hey, Mom!”
“Hey, baby.” She gives me a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “How was school today?”
“Pretty good, actually!” I smile, thinking about what had happened this afternoon. Although it had gotten sour in the end, Valentin had done the most amazing thing by taking me out.
“I’m glad. Did anything happen at school?”
“No, not really.” I hide my smile.
Mom drives out of the parking spot. “Seatbelt.”
I obey, quickly buckling up.
And suddenly, I realize…She’s quiet.
Mom is never silent.
Mom talks.
That’s what she does.
She pesters and talks and worries and fusses and laughs and gives advice.
She is never silent.
I groan silently, my head falling back on the car seat.
I catch her raised eyebrow from the rearview mirror. “What?”
I sigh. “What did I do now?”
She looks innocent. “What do you mean?”
“Mom.”
“Cat.”
I roll my eyes. “I know you’re mad at me, so please just say it. Don’t do this, Mom.”
“Do what?”
“Drag it out.”
“Drag what out, Kitty?” The sick sweetness in her voice hurts.
I throw my hands up, “I don’t know! I did something. So, do the Mom thing and get mad and freak out and ground me or something, anything, anything, but your silence.” I know I am almost begging now, but it really is horrible.
When Mom decides to give you a silent treatment, you practically feel like clawing your skin off. It bothers every single breath you take.
I see a flash of amusement in her eyes, but it is quickly wiped away with a serious face. “Fine. Why didn’t you tell me you have been having trouble at school?”
Instantly, I think about what had happened today. My heart beats against my chest a mile a minute. She doesn’t know about Valentin, does she?
No, she couldn’t.
He is good. He is good. He would have wiped any tracks from my parents, especially if he knows things about my family that even if I don’t.
I settle in my seat, forcing myself to look calm. “Because I’m not?”
“The school just notified me today that you dropped your Latin class.”
“Oh, about that.” I wring my hands in my lap. “Uh, I—”
Mom’s eyes flash dangerously. She slams the car to a stop at a red light. She swivels her head. “Don’t you dare lie to me, Caterina Giovanni.”
I back away. “Okay, okay, I wasn’t even going to! I dropped my Latin class because…” I look up at the car ceiling as if willing the answer to appear there. I have been practicing the lie that Valentin had told me to tell, but it is getting stuck in my throat. I am getting a lot better at lying, but it still hurts.
I swallow hard and blurt, “I have a lot on my plate and I didn’t want to admit it because I thought I could handle it and I didn’t want to tell you because you asked me over and over if my schedule was good and I said yes but…” I turn to the window, so I don’t have to look into my mother’s eyes as I flat out lie to her.
I can hear her voice soften as she says, “Oh, baby, I didn’t know.”
“It’s not your fault, Mom, really. I just…I’m sorry.”
“No, no. I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry. I should have noticed, I should have…” She seems pained.
My heart clenches. This is why I hate lying. Mom is a very emotional person and she feels everything deeply. She will blame herself for this, no matter how many times I’ll tell it isn’t her fault.
Tears prickle in my eyes. I hate, hate, hate hurting Mom. Hate it.
That is one thing me and Dad have in common. Worse than her anger is her sadness.
When I was little, she sometimes went through these periods of “sad days,” as I used to call them. During those days, only Dad would tuck me in at night and I would only see Dad’s face during breakfast and I wouldn’t be allowed to visit her in her room and when I did pass her by in the halls, her eyes would be so…empty. As I had grown up, those periods got farther and farther apart until I could barely remember the last time it had happened.
I shake off the dark memory and watch as t
he houses in our neighborhood come into view. I don’t want to do anything to Mom that would bring her back to those days.
Why did I decide to do this stupid deal with him?
Why didn’t I tell my parents the first day he had threatened me?
Why can’t I bring all of this to a stop?
The gates to our home swing open and Mom drives in. When she finally stops the car and turns around to say something, I shake my head.
“Mom, please, please, it’s really not your fault.” I unbuckle my seatbelt and slide forward. Taking her hands in my mine, I look at her in her eyes. “It’s not that big of a deal anyways. I know way too many languages, and this way I can focus on my other classes. A lot of kids are doing it.”
The lies threaten to choke me.
You deserve it.
Her face softens to a vulnerable look. “I just—I didn’t know you were stressed out enough to drop a class.” She shakes her head, her eyes downcast. “Next time you have to—”
“I’ll tell you. I promise.” I lean forward and hug her tightly, whispering into her hair, “I promise, Mommy.” I inhale her scent and feel like crying again. She smells like sweet jasmine and home and comfort. I hate hurting her like this, even though this isn’t a big deal.
She hugs me back hard, her arms a warm cocoon of love. “I love you so much, baby. You know you’re my everything, right?”
I could hear everything in those words. Everything she must have went through to get me here, to get me safe, to get me in a world where I had everything I could ever want. Maybe one day she would tell me that story.
But for now, I let her hold me. I let her hold me without complaining about being too big for hugs like this and having too much homework, and being too busy, and whining: Mom, can you please get out of my room. I just lay against her chest and let her hold me.
And because I can’t help but lighten the moment, I try making a joke, my voice thick with emotion. “You really love me, Mom? Even more than the babies you’re carrying? Are you really sure?”
She gasps out a laugh. “You little rascal.”