Viktor(21)
She slams her lips shut, her eyes darting back and forth from the door to me. I can tell she’s looking for the answer, but I’m not sure if this one’s going to be the truth.
I sigh. “I promise I won’t get mad.”
“Yeah, right. You were pissed off when I didn’t wanna have breakfast with you.”
“Because you were rude.”
She glares at me. “No, you were rude.”
I shrug. “Fine, we were both rude.”
“I’m not gonna give you any more ammo either.”
“I’m not looking for ammo.”
“Then why are you asking what I was doing in here? You fucking know what I was doing in here. You just want me to admit it, but I won’t. I won’t give in to you, Viktor. I don’t give a damn how hard I have to fight, how hard I have to fake it, but I will get out of here, and you will let me out thinking it was your own fucking idea.”
She’s cute. Her little tirade has me smirking. I never fucking smirk. “Are you done?”
She rolls her eyes at me. “Let me go.”
“No.” My grip on her wrist grows tighter.
“Okay, fine, hold my hand the rest of the day.” Like a kid, she sits down on the floor and looks up at me with a raised brow.
“Alexis … you really are something.”
She narrows her eyes at me but doesn’t respond.
“Hmm … I like that name.”
“That’s why you asked for it when I danced for you, wasn’t it?” she says, looking me straight in the eyes. “You like me.”
I lick my lips. “I like what you do to me.”
“Is that why you want me here?”
“Maybe,” I say, turning my head away. “But I don’t want it when it’s just a means to an end.”
She starts drawing circles in the carpet. “You’re really something too, you know?”
I muffle a laugh. “Thanks. I’ll take it as a compliment.”
I release her wrist, and she looks at me for a second before she smiles. I smile back. Yet she doesn’t get up and leave. She stays, and it surprises me.
“How old are you?” I ask.
“Eighteen. You?”
“Twenty-Eight.”
Her eyes widen. “Wow …”
“Don’t call me old.” I narrow my eyes at her.
“I didn’t.” She holds up her hands.
“Good. What’s your last name?”
Her brows draw together. “Why do you wanna know?”
“If you’re gonna stay here, I might as well get to know you. Mine’s Melikov. Apparently, it’s an old name, and I’m fucking royalty.”
She laughs. “You? Royalty? Yeah, right.”
“I know, right? Melikov sounds more like a fucking semi-automatic brand than royalty. I prefer my version.”
“Hmpf. Well, at least you know your last name. Have any family?”
“Not that I know of. Or that they even fucking care that I exist.”
“So you’re an orphan, huh?” she asks.
“Street rat,” I say, shrugging like it doesn’t mean anything, but it does.
Silence hangs in the air for a few seconds, and she turns her head away. “Kidd.”
“Kidd what?”
“Well, that’s it. My last name.”
“Oh.” I smile. “Cute.”
She makes a face at me. “It’s not cute. It’s supposed to be tough.”
“Right,” I muse. “Supposed to be? So you made it up?”
Her cheeks turn red, so I guess I’ve hit the mark. “Before I even had a name, people used to call me Kid.”
“Wait, what? You didn’t have a name?” I lean forward.
“Not really,” she says, making it sound like it’s nothing strange, but it is. “But I wanted something real, something people could actually call me, so I named myself Alexis. Alexis Kidd.”
“Wow … you named yourself? Where are your parents?” I ask, sarcastically adding, “Were they as great as mine?”
For a moment, she stops drawing patterns in the carpet and focuses on me instead, but her face is completely blank. “It’s complicated.”
“So? Tell me,” I say. “I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you, so we might as well talk.”
“Right … well, when you put it that way …” Her eyes briefly dart away and then back to me. “No.”
I sigh. “C’mon. Tell me.”
“No. Not until you tell me why you hid behind the curtains and why you wear that mask.” She points at my face, and suddenly, I’m hyperaware of the mask on my face. Moments like these, when I realize I’m wearing it, are rare because I’m so used to it. It’s like people with glasses; only, mine is a complete mask.