He opens the front door and gestures for me to step out. It’s a gray morning with a light drizzle falling. I hate rain, and when it comes, I wish it would rain hard and get it over with, then move on, but some of these gray days seem to melt into whole weeks, especially this time of year.
Lev opens the passenger door, and I get in. This time, I don’t wait for him to strap me in but do it myself.
He glances over at me when he settles into the driver’s seat and nods his approval, then starts the car, and we begin the tense drive to my house.
“I really can take the bus,” I try again when his phone dings with a text message that he quickly glances at before setting it facedown on the console.
“I’m sure you can, but you won’t.” He keeps his gaze straight out the window.
I look straight ahead too, gritting my teeth. “I don’t like feeling like a burden. I’m capable of taking care of myself.” I pause. “And you clearly have somewhere else you’d rather be,” I add a moment later.
He snorts, and I glance over to see him give a shake of his head as he shifts his gaze to me, a smile or a sneer on his face.
“You’re not a burden. I just have some shit I have to take care of.” He schools his features, and it’s silent again for a long moment. “Who’s Joshua?” he asks again, taking me by surprise.
Our eyes meet for a split second, and in that instant, I see Lev like he was last night.
I turn to look out my window as I tug my scarf closer even though it’s warm in the car.
“You called out his name in your sleep.”
Shit.
“Twice.”
He slows the car as we hit rush-hour traffic.
Taking a deep breath, I slip my hand beneath my shirt sleeve and rub the skin there. I turn back to find Lev’s eyes on me.
“Just a friend I used to know.”
“Past tense?”
I haven’t talked about Joshua in two years. I haven’t said his name out loud to anyone, not even to myself. I don’t remember the dream, but I can guess what it was. And it’d be more in the category of nightmare.
A weight settles across my chest like a strap being tightened around me. My jaw tightens too, and I feel my face harden. My eyes go cold.
“He’s dead. So yeah, past tense. As past tense as you can get.”
He studies me, but I can’t read if he’s surprised or what.
Traffic crawls, and I watch the light change from yellow to red. Someone honks their horn, and Lev opens his mouth to say something or maybe to ask me another question about Joshua when he’s being kind of a dick after last night, but I don’t wait to find out. Instead, as soon as the car comes to a stop, I simultaneously push the button to unlatch my seat belt and open the door. I have one leg out, and before he can say a word, I turn to him.
“It’ll be faster if I walk from here. I know a shortcut.”
“Hey.” He reaches over, and I just slip out before he can grab my arm.
I lean down as the light turns green, and the car behind us honks its horn. “Thanks for dinner and the ride.” I slam the door shut and sprint through three lanes of traffic, not looking back until I’m on the sidewalk and ducking around a corner and out of sight.
I stop there, hugging my jacket to myself. The zipper’s broken so I can’t close it, but I take cover from the rain that seems to have picked up as soon as I got out of the car under the overhang of a closed shop. I take in big gulps of air and scrub my face with my hands as my heart races.
My head hurts. Probably the wine and lack of sleep. I push off the wall. There’s no shortcut, but there is a bus. Although it’s not a direct route, so it’ll take me a good forty-five minutes to get home. I need to get moving so I duck my head against the rain and start doing just that because it’s what I do. I go on. I survive.
Last night was amazing.
Last night, I felt something I never thought I’d feel. I’m going to chalk that up to not having had sex in too long. And sex with Lev, well, I’ll miss that because I know I won’t see him again, and even as I try to shut my brain up, I know it’s more than that. I liked him. It’s stupid, but I did. And maybe what’s pathetic about it is that it wasn’t just the sex or that he looks like he does or any of that. It’s that he seemed genuine and nice. Like he really cared about me.
“Fuck.”
I shake my head and snort. I’m an idiot.
I liked him because he was nice to me. Pathetic.
Wiping what I want to say is rain from my eyes, I dig my phone out of my purse and text Nina.
Me: Hey. You there?
Nothing. But I’m not surprised. It’s early, and Nina doesn’t do mornings.
Me: You knew the guy at the club the other night. Lev Antonov. Who is he?
I hit send and tuck the phone into my back pocket just as the bus turns the corner. I run the last half-block to make it. But just before I get to the stop, I see the little black Audi turn the same corner the bus just turned and I stand, my mouth falling open as Lev easily overtakes the slower bus and pulls up in front of the shelter.
He opens the driver’s side door and gets out, and he looks pissed off.
The bus honks its horn as it approaches the stop, making me jump, but Lev ignores it. We’re only a few feet apart, and rain is coming down in sheets now, soaking us both as we stare at each other.
“Get in,” Lev orders.
I open my mouth, gesture to the bus, but before I can utter a word, he stalks around the car, takes my arm, and forces me to the Audi.
“I said get the fuck in,” he repeats, voice icing my spine as he deposits me roughly into the passenger seat.
As if suspecting I might try to make a run for it, he clicks the lock on the door as he makes his way around to the driver’s side, the bus a hulking, angry shadow behind us as a soaking wet Lev gets in behind the wheel and shifts into gear. He speeds off so fast, I scream when we swerve on the slippery road.
I don’t expect him to actually stop at the stop sign, but he does and turns to me. I know why a moment later when he angrily draws the belt across my lap and clicks it into place.
“I told you I’d take you home,” he says through gritted teeth.
I press my back into the seat. He’s so close, I feel his breath on my face, smell his smell that still does something to me.
A moment later, he’s speeding to my house, seeming to know every street and every alley. The car moves fast, swerving around the slower vehicles and pissing off more people than I can count.
I reach into my purse and wrap my hand around the pepper spray, and when we get to my apartment building, I’m not sure what to do.
He parks the car at the curb, not in a parking space but just right there. I clear my throat, hand still around that canister as I reach with the other to open my door. My heart is racing, has been during the entire time of this second drive.
But before I can open my door, he’s out and around the car and opens my door for me. He wraps a hand around my arm to pull me out.
“I’m coming,” I try as I stumble out, my purse falling off my lap, my wallet and keys spilling to the ground.
He doesn’t look at those things though. His gaze is on the pepper spray. When he meets my eyes, which I’m sure are like those of a deer in headlights, he just snorts, shakes his head and closes his giant hand around my wrist, then releases my arm to use that hand to pry the pepper spray from me.