Page 65 of You + Me – Against the World

I’ve waited seven days for this. And now I still have to wait another seven hours. It’s nothing, but at the same time it feels like forever.

23

My afternoon classes drag on and on and on, but eventually I arrive at the café, almost two hours early. After some bargaining, complaining, and disappointed pouting, Clémentine finally agreed not to tag along. Sitting there alone, I spend what feels like endless minutes watching the students enjoying their usual end-of-day routine: giant sodas, deep conversations, loud bursts of laughter.

I make myself as small as possible, my forehead resting against the window, my eyes fixed on the street where Vadim is due to appear any minute now. What will he be wearing? Will he look different? Will he be just as good looking, just as tall? Just as striking? It feels strangely like I’m meeting him all over again for the first time.

I’m so nervous about seeing him that I’ve already played the scene out a hundred times in my head. Should I stay seated or stand up? Keep quiet and let him speak or say something right away? But what? Keep my guard up or throw myself into his arms?

Of course, I know exactly what I’m dying to do. But I won’t do it. I’m terrified that he’ll throw himself into my arms though, and then mistake my reserve for detachment. I hate public displays of affection, especially those couples who have no inhibitions at all and make a huge spectacle of themselves. That’s not me. And I don’t really like the idea of throwing myself into his arms when I still don’t know why he got arrested. With everyone watching us, too…

Seriously, getting here two hours early wasn’t my best idea! I have way too much time to think.

I slump forward onto the table in front of me, my head between my arms, trying to block out the endless stream of questions. I stay like this for several long minutes, shut off from the world and the noise around me. Then, a hand gently settles on my head and starts stroking my hair. I recognize his scent before I even see him or hear his voice.

Vadim is here.

I snap out of my daze and slowly sit up as he slides into the booth beside me. His hand is on my face now, his thumb caressing my cheek.

“Were you sleeping?” he whispers. “Is that all I get after a week apart?”

His gray eyes are unreadable. Sad and disappointed or challenging?

Vadim smiles at me, and something clicks. Our two bodies draw closer, melting together, and we hold each other as tightly as we can. Curled up in his arms, my nose against his neck and my lips against his skin, I breathe him in, filling myself with his warmth, his energy, his very presence. But the few people staring at us make me feel uncomfortable. Why did he arrange to meet me at the Sunset?

“You went a little overboard with the Ciao Amore,” I say, slipping out of his embrace.

I immediately regret it.

“And you went a little overboard with Nicki Scott while I was gone, didn’t you? One week without me and you turn bratty?” he teases with a cocky smile.

“That girl gets so much crap from people even though she hasn’t done anything wrong. I have no idea why.”

“And why are we talking about her again?”

“Because you’ve barely spent a minute with me and you’re already annoyed by me,” I reply, hurt.

“Do you want me to leave, Alma?”

“Do you want me to cry, Vadim?”

“Why do I get the feeling you don’t actually want me here?” he asks, frowning.

“I’ve been waiting a week for this…” I sigh, in an attempt to defend myself.

“Then why are you being so hot and cold with me?”

I don’t know. Why am I pushing him away when he’s all that I want? Why am I so suspicious, so defensive, as if I need to make him pay for something? Have all the things people have been saying on campus somehow managed to worm their way into my thoughts?

“I didn’t imagine things going like this,” I admit, looking at him dejectedly. “And I’ve had plenty of time to picture it.”

“Okay, I know this must have been hard for you. I’m sorry. I missed you,” he says, taking my hand.

“Me too.”

Finally, I soften a little, but I still hide our intertwined hands under the table.

“What are you doing?”