Camila stands straighter. “It’s called empathy,” she says, sidestepping the boyfriend insult. “Something that was removed from you at birth.”
“I can empathize with people. But I choose not to because I’m the only sane person in this godforsaken country. Seriously, why should I feel bad that Thora didn’t get laid? She probably saved herself from an STD and a broken heart.” Dear God—I didn’t even think about STDs. I cringe.
“John,” Camila snaps.
He lets out a breath and rolls his eyes. “I’m just making conversation.”
“Nikolai doesn’t seem like he sleeps around a lot,” I mention. Though I’m not certain about this. Katya never talks about his previous relationships. He’s a full-on mystery there, and I feel like it’s stepping out of bounds if I even ask.
“See,” Camila says, pointing a finger at John.
“Whatever,” he mumbles. “I need another drink.” He slides his cousin the empty beer bottle, and she retrieves him a new one.
“Thora James!”
I whip my head and notice Timo approaching, his face bathed in green, red and blue from three stacked necklaces. He’s added silver glitter on his bare chest and cheeks to his usual attire: no shirt, leather jacket, and dangling cross earring. He looks like part of the club folk.
John curses under his breath the minute Timo nears. He can’t keep his mouth shut though. “The under-twenty-one club is down the street,” he tells him. “It has a big giraffe and R-Us at the end.” He gives Timo a dry look before taking a swig of beer.
Timo only smiles more. “The over-ninety club is also down the street. It’s where all these headstones are, old man. Can’t miss it.” Then he rotates to me, and he lets out a long whistle, scrutinizing me from head to toe. “Thora James, turning it on tonight.”
I’m actually dressed up this time—not in sneakers or my Phantom costume. Camila lent me a tight black dress that zips in the back and lifts up my boobs. I keep tugging the hem since it rides up as I sit on the barstool, appearing shorter.
“Better than the sweats?!” I have to shout over the loud bass.
“Most definitely!” he yells back. “My brother is going to love it!”
My stomach clenches. “That’s…” not what I planned. My voice drowns in the music. Okay, don’t fool yourself, Thora. If I can’t be honest with myself, then I am fucked.
I knew Nikolai would be here tonight, as he is every Saturday.
And yeah, I wanted to look my best. I wanted to draw a reaction from him—the kind that electrocutes my nerves and tingles my skin.
Tingles.
I’m talking about tingles in association with a guy. I internally groan. Shay would call me ridiculous. But I don’t even want to take the wish back. I’m only human.
John slices through what would’ve been an awkward moment from my open-mouthed, stupefied-self. He zeroes in on Timo again. “This area…” He motions around us. “…is for people who can legally order at the bar.” He shoos him away with the swat of his hand.
Timo’s blinding, magnetic smile never fades. “In another life, you were a fat old police officer addicted to donuts.”
Camila spits out her water from behind me, and the spray dampens my neck. “I’m sorry!” she says between fits of laughter. “That’s just…”
My laugh begins at the sight of hers, and she shakes her head, her stomach heaving with humor. She has to hold herself upright.
“I can’t…” She flashes her palm like she has to step away, heading to another couple who wave her down.
I reach over the bar for a little square napkin and pat my neck, my hair in an edgy French braid. (Camila did it for me.)
“Your cousin likes me.” Timo cocks his head at John.
“She likes everyone. This comes from a place of love when I say that she has the worst sense of judgment. For everything, really. Including people.”
“Hey,” I say. “She likes me.”
“And you’re sharing a bedroom with a Kotova,” he rebuts. “That kind of puts your quality at the bottom of the barrel.”
“I’m sleeping on the couch,” I emphasize.
“Wait,” Timo cuts in with a confused look. “You don’t sleep in Nik’s bed?”
What is with everyone and this? I’m not abnormal. “I…” I trail off as his frown deepens.
“Do you not like him or something?” He scratches the back of his head, more downtrodden than usual. He didn’t phrase the question as: does Nikolai not like you or something? As if it was all my choice to sleep on the couch.
“I mean, he’s just training me.” Those are Nikolai’s words too. He’s said them to me before.
Timo looks just as perplexed as I feel. “I thought he liked you.”
I rock back, my heart convulsing. It’s like someone fisted my internal organs. “What gave you that idea?” I think I want it to be true.
I shouldn’t.
He’s just training you, Thora. Stay concentrated.
Goals. I have goals.
John stares at the ceiling like this conversation is killing him.
“You’re living with him,” Timo says. “Duh, Thora James.”
I don’t feel like I’m so oblivious. I just think we’re all more confused than they’d have us believe.
John suddenly stands and nears Timo, only an inch taller than him. “What is this?” Clutching his beer, he gestures to the three glow necklaces.
“I’m single, complicated and taken,” Timo replies with a burgeoning smile.
John looks to me. “He’s a liar.” Then to Timo. “Seriously, you’re a liar.”
“Or I’m just a mystery, old man.”
John swiftly snaps off the red and green glow necklaces, leaving Timo with only blue. “Look at that, I solved your pathetic mystery.”
Timo licks his bottom lip and laughs. “You want me to be single, John?” This took a turn. I stare between them, my eyes pinging back and forth with intrigue.
John puts the beer to his lips. “I’m out of your league, Timo.”
“If you say so.”
“TAT! TAT! TAT!” The room yells over the pumping music, and my heart double skips. John groans at the commotion, but his feet carry him closer to the spectacle.
Timo clasps my hand, tugging me along. I’ve somehow slid deeper into the Kotova circle. He slings his arm around my shoulder and follows John Ruiz. “He’s a walking contradiction,” Timo says, amused. His eyes lower to John’s ass, squeezed in a pair of dark-colored jeans.
I just ogled John’s butt. I scrunch my face. That was not on my to-do list tonight.
I don’t have to ask Timo to clarify his statement. John is cynical, pessimistic, claiming to be drama-free, but he seeks it out and thrives on watching it. He’s also popular enough that three people scoot over, awarding us the closest view.
Timo wedges between John and me, his other arm swooping around John’s shoulders. I’m shocked when John doesn’t push him off.
My gaze casually drifts to the open circle, where the crowds have parted for Nikolai. And the minute I see another girl in it, my whole face tightens. Nikolai leads the twenty-something brunette to the lone chair, his hand on the small of her back.
His hand on the small of her back.