Don’t you dare touch her.
Take a step back, son.
Nicholai, don’t you have to help your mother with the dishes?
“I know; it’s not that I don’t trust you,” Nicky agreed. “It’s that I don’t trust my luck. If they find out somehow, if this place is wired or whatever . . . Ari, you know I can’t.”
It was gentle, but it was final. Subject closed. And while I understood him, I was also angry at him, because he was still levelheaded about us, whereas I was as logical as a truck tire where he was concerned. The bile in my throat rolled an inch forward toward my mouth. But I wasn’t that kind of girl. I prided myself in being exactly what Nicky wanted me to be. I watched action flicks and played wall ball and said dude at least fifteen times a day.
“Hey, we going down for a swim or what?” Nicky wrapped his fingers around a small crystal ball on the shelf behind me and pocketed it. He did that a lot, and I never minded. Maybe because I knew he’d never take something that was dear to me. “I practiced at the YMCA pool all year. Prepare to be crushed, silver-spooned girl.”
The sharp bite behind my eyes told me that I had three seconds, maybe five, before the tears began to fall.
“Dude.” I snorted. “Who’s being high now? I’m going to end you. Let me put my swimsuit on.”
“Meet you at the door in five.”
I turned around and walked away, closing my bedroom door behind me, then fished for my swimsuit in my drawer, nicking my thumb in the process. I was bleeding but couldn’t feel a thing.
I sucked on the blood, looking in the mirror and practicing my best, brightest smile.
That was my first lesson of adolescence.
Heartbreaks were dealt with discreetly. In the back alleys of your soul. On the outside, I was strong. But inside—I cracked.
After the swimming competition—in which Nicky indeed annihilated me—I avoided him the entire first week of summer break.
I did it casually. Made plans to go to Saks with some friends one day, went to the library on another. I even went as far as joining my mother and her boring friends for brunch.
But Nicky still came every day and had the determined, stoic expression of someone who wanted to make our friendship work. And each day, I came up with something else to do. Something that didn’t include him in my plans.
I knew I was punishing him for not kissing me, even if in a roundabout way. Ruslana made him help her around the house to keep him busy. She allowed him a few breaks each day, which he took on the living room balcony, which adjoined my bedroom terrace. Hopping between the balconies was doable but risky. The glass barrier was too tall, so you had to go over the rails and hang on the edge of the skyscraper for three feet until you made it to the other side.
One time during that first week, when Ruslana had taken out the trash and I’d just come back from another pointless outing to avoid him, Nicky hurried to the glass window between us, pressing his hands against it. I did the same, instantly drawn to him like a magnet.
“Are you punishing me?” he asked, no hint of anger in his voice.
I laughed incredulously. “Now, why would I do that?”
“You know exactly why.”
“Wow, Nicky. Inflated ego much?”
He studied me expressionlessly. I felt like the world’s biggest jerk. He tried another tactic. “Are we still friends?”
I gave him a pitying look I hated. The kind of look popular girls gave me at school when I said something nerdy or uncool. “It’s okay if I don’t want to spend all summer with you, you know.”
“Guess so.” He was watching me so closely I felt like he was undressing me of my lies, one item at a time. “But it looks like you don’t want to spend one minute with me.”
“I do. I’ll swim with you tomorrow. Oh, wait.” I snapped my fingers. “I promised Dad I would go to his office and help his secretaries to do some filing.”
“I’m losing to filing?” His eyes flared.
“Whatever, Nicky. It’s work experience. We should both be thinking about getting summer jobs next year, anyway. We’re getting too old for this.”
He narrowed his eyes, glancing between the railing and me. I shook my head. I didn’t want him to die. I mean, okay, maybe just a little, because he’d rejected me and it hurt, but I knew I wouldn’t survive if something happened to him.
“Don’t cross the barrier,” I warned. I had a feeling we were talking about much more than just the banisters.
He made a move, though. About to cross. I gasped.