Chapter 3

I warmed up at the movie theater, but by the time I walked home, taking my time with Vlad's acquaintances, I had managed to freeze all over again. So after I change, the first thing I do is go to the bathroom and take a hot shower.

If only I could always stand like this under hot streams of water, soaking up their warmth and letting peace fill my body. If I could lie down and curl up beneath them, I would. Instead, I wash the subtle makeup from my face, clean myself, and step out of the shower stall. Wrapping myself in a towel, I smooth a light cream over my neck and shoulders and comb out my long hair.

Wet, it looks ash-blond now, like my eyebrows and lashes, and my cheeks are unusually flushed from the hot water. No one sees me like this. But soon my hair will dry to its natural platinum, the blush will disappear, and all that will remain on my face are cool pink lips and large blue eyes. Bright and sharp as Antarctic ice.

Ruslan is right. Snow, nothing but snow. The kind of image you don't expect warmth from, because one look tells you that somewhere inside, in her heart, cold lives. A shard of ice, like in the fairy tale about the Snow Queen, that will never let me feel.

And it will never let me live, unless a miracle melts it one day.

A heart defect. That's why I'm always cold and always pale. That's why from childhood I avoided noisy groups and kept away from other children, instinctively choosing the safer path. "It's all right, sweetheart, people live with congenital conditions like this. There's excellent treatment and wonderful surgeons; they will make your heart beat like a Swiss watch! But you need proper treatment. And the sooner, the better!"

I learned about my diagnosis too late. By accident, when the pain under my chest wouldn't let me sleep for a long time and I finally decided to see a doctor. Back then my parents' marriage was falling apart, and Romka and I were terribly worried about them. But my brother escaped the family fights by going wild with his friends, while I stayed close and calmed both of them down. My parents weren't thinking about me then, and afterward I never managed to tell them.

But I could help myself, and I tried. And if I couldn't yet earn enough for surgery, which remained only a dream for now, I could at least earn enough for good treatment.

Then Vlad appeared in my life, and I gave myself a chance to try a relationship, even if there was no love and my heart didn't answer. But warmth from another person can warm you too, especially when you need it.

I couldn't even allow myself to think about a full-on emotional hurricane. That wasn't for me. I felt the presence of a fire capable of melting my shard (or more likely driving it deeper) in only one guy. But that guy wasn't able to warm me. He could only burn me to ash and keep going. I had no illusions there. He had been born to break hearts, and he wasn't shy about showing it.

I go back to my bedroom and put on lounge pants and a sweatshirt. I pin up my damp hair and carry my laptop to the kitchen. However I look at it, I'm starving, and I owe Romka dinner, so I'll have to work on the translation while making soup. I'm not capable of anything more right now.

The translation job is full of technical terms and footnotes, so I constantly have to check terminology in a specialized dictionary and clarify details so I don't make a mistake. But if I handle this trial assignment, I'll get a more serious order, with different pay. Which means I'll sleep more calmly and feel better.

As for Vlad, I'll have to talk to him. Romka is right. Lately there has been more and more of Vlad's desires in our relationship, and less and less of me. We gave our experiment a year to see whether friends could become a couple if one of them was deeply in love. And we really have grown closer. Serious plans have started slipping into Vlad's words... But have we managed to become truly close people?..

Very soon, we'll have to answer that question honestly not only to each other, but to ourselves.

I get up from the table and go to the stove. I check the small pot to see how the meat for the soup is cooking, thinking through a difficult word in the translation and its possible variants.

Beside me on the counter, the electric kettle boils and clicks off, and I take my cup down from the shelf. Dropping a tea bag into it, I pour in boiling water and add a spoonful of honey and a piece of ginger. Cup in hand, I turn back toward the table, intending to return to my laptop... and suddenly cry out when I find a tall dark-haired guy behind me.

And of course I pour boiling water all over him, splashing the entire cup of tea across his chest and stomach!

"Oh!"

"Motherfucker!"

It's Ruslan Marjanov, Romka's friend. A frequent guest in our home, although I try not to run into him. But I was sure my brother and I were alone today!

He swears through his teeth and jerks back, grabbing at his clothes.

"Damn it, Snow! Were you trying to make sure I never have kids? You almost boiled my junk! Or maybe you did... Ow, that hurts!"

God, why him, and why now? And who asked him to come so close?

"Of course it hurts, it's boiling water!" I exclaim, frightened. "Take off your T-shirt, quickly, before the fabric makes the burn worse!"

Ruslan obediently yanks off his T-shirt, and I rush to the sink and grab the kitchen towel from its holder. I soak it under cold water, wring it out, and return to him. Folding the towel in half, I carefully press it to his lean stomach, where the burn has already had time to redden against his dark skin.

"Snow, you didn't just burn me here. We need to check lower."

"Try unzipping your fly and see what happens! First I leave, then you unzip."

"Alis, what if you just cool it down with your hands? Trust me, that would work better. I know exactly what I need."

"What would work better is you going to the hospital, as soon as possible!"

"Over this little thing? Don't stress. It'll heal right up, like on a mutt. Ow!"

I flip the towel to the other side and press it to the injured skin again, genuinely scared now.

"And what if it doesn't? What if it leaves a scar?"

"So what?" he snorts carelessly. "You've already left one on my heart. There can be another!"

Only now do I lift my head to meet Marjanov's dark eyes, watching me from very close and very intently beneath his long bangs.

"Ruslan," I ask in surprise, "can you ever be serious, even for a second?"

Even while answering honestly, he manages to lift one corner of his mouth.

"I can. But why?"

"You scared me! What are you doing here at this hour? It's almost midnight, and this is definitely not a time for guests!"

But nothing can embarrass him, and Ruslan answers easily, as if this explains everything:

"I came to see what you were doing."

"Marjanov, are you kidding me? I'm asking why you're in our kitchen and not at home. And why you're looming behind my back!"

"I haven't seen you in three days. I just came to say hello. Hi, Alice."

Hello?

What can you even say to that? His eyes look straight at me, as if he isn't lying. If this guy ever grows up and gets more serious, I'll be very surprised.