Page 47 of You + Me – Against the World

“Alma, stop. That’s exactly what I wanted to avoid. I’ve never asked anyone for anything, never accepted money that I hadn’t earned. I do just fine on my own, and I don’t want to owe anyone anything.

Anyone.

“Vadim?”

“Yes?”

“I’m not really just anyone, am I?”

He looks away, and I guess I won’t get an answer to that question. My heart tightens a little.

“I don’t want anything to happen to you. What if you get caught?”

“I won’t,” he says quietly. “No one has any interest in this getting out—not them, and not me.”

“You’re so sure of yourself.”

“Do I have a choice? Alma, I know you don’t really approve, but I’m not hurting anyone. I use the only thing I know how to do: think. I do assignments for people who need them, and I earn a little cash. No one goes to prison for that!”

I try not to fall into the trap, but it’s already closing around me.

The trap’s name is Vadim Arcadi.

I’m moved by his story, his past, his courage, his freedom, his devotion to the few people he holds dear. By his sharp, brilliant mind that he doesn’t ever boast about. At college, barely anyone has any idea he’s capable of getting excellent grades without breaking a sweat. He could have become a petty criminal to make money—a thief, or a drug dealer. Instead, he uses his intelligence to help out his buddy.

If this were the plot of a movie, I’d already be sobbing in the dark in front of the screen. I’m that sentimental. If this were a movie, I wouldn’t be afraid. I’d follow him to the end of the world. I’d support him. He’d protect me. He would be my Clyde, and I would be his Bonnie.

If this weren’t real life…

His puts his hand gently on mine, and the tender gesture takes me by surprise.

“What are you thinking about, Alma?”

“Nothing. Well, I’m thinking about everything you just told me.”

“I can’t stop your little head from worrying, but Alma… it would kill me to have you pity me.” He breathes these words so softly, I barely catch them. But I can see in his eyes that he isn’t lying. “I don’t have much, but I still have my pride.”

“Vadim…”

“I’ll never accept your money or the Lancasters’,” he insists. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t order another dessert—get the most expensive one on the menu! They have the best cheesecakes here.”

His cocky little smile earns a groan from me.

“Let’s share then. I’m not very hungry anymore.”

“Okay, but be warned, I don’t plan on spoon-feeding you like all those cringy couples who think they’re being romantic.”

“I actually found this dinner pretty romantic. I was thinking of telling Felix that you spent an hour pouring your heart out to me while stroking my hand.”

He laughs, then fixes his gaze on me in that way that leaves me flustered. The butterflies stir in my stomach.

“I’m not stroking your hand, I’m warming it. It’s not my fault you’re cold all the time.”

That smile…

“It’s not my fault if you’re a touchy-feely, tender guy who just won’t admit it.”

“That’s the Alma Lancaster effect. Nothing can be done about it.”