Page 29 of You + Me – Against the World

Clemy_juicy: OK, but after that you’ve gotta tell me everything!

A new chat window opens and blinks on my screen. My heart beats in sync with the blinking.

Arcadius: You can access the internet, so they haven’t put you in a convent:)

Alma_from_paris: Not yet. But I’m not allowed to go out all weekend. And for the rest of the week, I’m only allowed to leave the house for classes.

Arcadius: OK.

Alma_from_paris: Just OK?

Arcadius: Yeah. That’s life.

What’s he playing at?

Alma_from_paris: I don’t know who you are, Arcadius, but I want to chat with Vadim Arcadi. The one from last night.

Arcadius: What do you want me to say, Alma?

Alma_from_paris: That you miss me already? That you were worried about me? That you’re wondering how we’ll be able to see each other before seven endless days have passed?

Arcadius: We’ll see each other in class on Monday, Alma from Paris.

I can suddenly picture the cocky look on his face. As if he’s above everything. Above me.

Alma_from_paris: And that’s enough for you?

Arcadius: No, I can’t wait to see Timothy Wallace either. And your brother. They’ll keep us in line.

Arcadius: Oh, and Abrams. I’d forgotten about him.

I can’t help but smile. Maybe he’s not so indifferent after all.

Alma_from_paris: I’ll talk to Tim on Monday.

Arcadius: You didn’t promise me anything.

My stupid heart clenches.

Alma_from_paris: And you didn’t promise me anything either, is that what you mean?

Arcadius: That’s not what I said.

Alma_from_paris: You hinted at it so strongly that I can already imagine you putting another little tally mark on your list of conquests and thinking about your next prey.

Arcadius: Then you haven’t understood a thing. You still don’t know who I am.

Alma_from_paris: Tell me…

Arcadius: No, I don’t come with an instruction manual.

Alma_from_paris: Vadim, this isn’t a game anymore! Do you know what I risked so I could be with you? What last night means to me?

My eyes mist over.

He doesn’t answer me. He must be preparing the perfect comeback—the one that will either make me fall for him even more or destroy me and give him his freedom back. The final stage of his trap. The trap I fell into like the biggest fool of all.

I hate myself.