He blinked at me as if the name didn’t even register.
Something hit the door behind me, and both Cat and I jumped.
“Excellent,” he muttered, brushing past me. “The newspaper’s here. Now I have something worthwhile to do.”
My eyes squeezed shut a moment as I regained my composure. Alexi still had a mother—unlike Pietr, Max, Cat, Annabelle Lee, and I—and he didn’t bother with her. Regardless of the mistake she’d made in giving him up, it seemed somehow wrong to me that he’d just ignore her now that he knew. Couldn’t he forgive her? To me, it seemed that, after everything, there was little that was unforgiveable.
Feet dragging, my hand trailed along the top of the smooth wooden banister as I headed upstairs. My feet in slow motion, I reached the top of the staircase.
Pietr’s bedroom door wasn’t even open.
It was as if he had forgotten I was coming. As if I wasn’t as welcome as I had hoped.
I wandered to his bedroom door, giving more attention than ever before to the knickknacks and pictures that helped fill the space between the Rusakovas’ rooms that lined the top of the stairs.
My socks crackled, crawling with sparks, static popping between my feet and the slender rug. Electricity. That’s what I wanted to feel between Pietr and me again—that’s what we seemed to be missing.
But how did I get it back?
I reached out to touch his doorknob and saw the electricity arch and leap free a moment before it shocked me.
“Yow,” I whispered, looking at my fingertip.
But more importantly than how I got electricity back in our relationship was how I could do it and not get zapped.
Slowly I turned the knob and pushed the door open, again finding Pietr stooped over his studies, every bit the perfect student.
On a snow day.
My mind rebelled at the idea. A snow day. There was something verging on the sacred about such days and the way one spent them. Snow days were meant to be enjoyed—they were gifts Mother Nature gave students to bolster us against the oppressive crush of too many worksheets and projects and days without sunlight. A snow day should never melt away in a fit of studying.
I cleared my throat.
He turned to look at me, his expression of intense concentration sliding into a gentle smile. “You’re here already?”
Even at such simple words, my heart faltered.
He glanced at a clock, and a frown line folded the distance between his eyebrows. “Of course,” he said with a sigh. “You’re right on time.”
I decided I was also right on time to change the subject. “So. What are you doing?” I asked, trying to keep the note of reprimand from my voice.
I failed.
He arched an eyebrow, and his smile broadened. “Studying.”
“It’s a snow day.”
“Precisely. It’s like a bonus day to get organized and get extra studying in,” he explained proudly. “I may even Skype with Smith later and review some notes from a few classes.…”
Words bubbled out of my mouth awkwardly. “I’m sorry, Pietr. I won’t tolerate this. I’ve dealt with you dating my sometimes best friend, learning you’re a werewolf, your nearly selling your soul to the Mafia, but this … Oddly, wasting a snow day with studying is where I choose to draw the line.”
“What?” He tilted his head, quirking an eyebrow at me. “This is where you draw your line?”
I grabbed him by the wrist and tugged. “Ugh,” I protested when he didn’t budge. “What did you have for breakfast—lead?”
“So many things are made in China today … it’s possible.…”
“Shut up, Pietr. And stand up.”
He obeyed hesitantly, standing and towering over me, a distinctly amused look lighting his eyes. “And now what?”
“Now get your boots and your coat and we’ll take real advantage of this amazing day.” I cleared my throat and specified. “This amazing snow day.”
“Fine,” he conceded.
“Where’s Max?”
“In his room, I guess.”
“Dear god—not studying?” But the thought of Max studying on a snow day was absurd. The thought of Max studying at all … “Sleeping in?”
“Of course.”
I snorted. We walked up to his room and I banged on the door, announcing: “Up and at ’em—we’re going to have a snowball fight to beat all snowball fights.”
Max’s door opened a crack and he peered out, disheveled and bleary-eyed, his hair a mess of soft rioting curls. “Jessie.” He opened the door wider to stand boldly in only—
“Heyyy,” I said, ignoring how Max looked in just boxers as he scrubbed a hand across his broad bare chest, ruffling a bit of dark hair. The only other thing he had on was the shorter-length chain he’d worn as a choker—a chain made out of the same material Pietr’s had been. And with only one purpose to its construction.
“Still wearing the necklace?”
He blinked and rolled the links under his index finger, his lips sliding in thought. “Da. I’ve gotten used to it,” he added a little quickly, watching me. He yawned and leaned forward in the doorway, his hands on the top of the doorjamb, his powerful arms above his head. “You mentioned a snowball fight?” His lips slipped into a grin.
“Absolutely.”
“I’ll be there,” he grumbled, smacking a hand solidly against the door’s frame. “Kicking ass is a great way to start the day.”
“Kicking ass?” I asked.
He nodded. “I’m coming for you,” he said to Pietr with a nod and a dangerous glint in his eyes.
Cat climbed the stairs out of curiosity. “Jessie—pravda—really? A snowball fight?”
“Yeah—come on, Cat.… It’ll be fun,” I guaranteed. “Max intends to kick everyone’s ass,” I added as incentive.
“He does, does he?” Her demeanor changed a few degrees, a touch of the sibling rivalry I often saw sparking in Annabelle Lee’s eyes lighting in Cat’s. “Perhaps I should help teach him a lesson in humility?”
“Max and humility…” I rolled the offer around in my head. “Huh. Do those two words even work together grammatically in a sentence?”
But she slipped past us and into her room to change into warmer clothes and join in the upcoming fray.