Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 68931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
I fought against the betrothal, of course. No matter what Alexei said, I couldn’t meekly accept the situation and wait to see how it shakes out in the future. For three days straight, I cried and begged; for months afterward, I gave my parents the silent treatment. Time and time again, I told them I won’t do it and they can’t make me. None of it mattered. The contract stands, and even though Alexei isn’t in my life yet, I know he will be soon.
“There you are,” Risha yells, spotting me from the dance floor. She waves madly. “Come join us!”
I wave back. “I’m getting a drink first!”
Pushing through the crowds, I make my way to the refreshments station. There’s punch, naturally, but there’s also sparkling water, sparkling grape juice, kombucha, and every non-alcoholic cocktail you can imagine, prepared by an actual bartender.
When rich kids party, you can’t get by with something as basic as colored sugar water.
I get a glass of kombucha, because microbiome, and then I discreetly bum a joint off of a guy I know. In the past year, I’ve discovered that I like pot. It quiets the anxiety that always gnaws at my stomach these days.
I’m on my way to the bathroom to sneak in a quick smoke when a tall figure steps in front of me.
“Hey there.”
Ugh, this again. “Hey, Josh,” I say with an eyeroll.
I knew he’d be here—everybody expects him to be voted Prom King—but I was hoping he’d be too busy with his girlfriend to hit on me. But no. He’s found the time.
“You here with someone or by yourself?” he drawls, running a hand through his long-ish blond hair—undoubtedly to draw my attention to how smooth and shiny it is. His gaze travels over my body from the tips of my silver heels to the spaghetti straps holding up my Givenchy dress, and the look in his blue eyes makes me want to pull my bodice higher.
Gamely, I resist the urge. “I’m with my friends.”
“Oh, yeah?” He leans in, smirking. “How about I show you around?”
“No, thanks. I’ve got to drain the lady lizard.” There. If that doesn’t cool his ardor, I don’t know what will.
Before he can come up with a response, I step around him and beeline for the bathroom. It’s still early in the evening, so it’s not yet swarmed by all the girls surreptitiously adding alcohol to their virgin cocktails. I find an empty stall and light up, enjoying the acrid, grassy burn in my throat as the smoke travels deep into my lungs. Almost immediately, the anxious buzzing of my thoughts quiets down, the tension gripping my temples easing. Another drag, and my mind empties further. For a few blessed moments, I forget that the school year will be over soon and I’ll have to go home to Moscow, to my parents’ ever-escalating fights… that this summer, I’ll turn seventeen, one year closer to the age I dread and the man I fear.
What makes it worse is that I’m sure Alexei hasn’t given me or the stupid contract a moment’s thought since that day. I have neither seen him nor heard from him in almost two years, and he’s certainly made no attempt to get to know me. Which is good. Hopefully, he’s forgotten all about me by now, and when the time comes, he will tell our fathers to go fuck themselves.
I should find that thought reassuring—and I do—but sometimes, my imagination plays tricks on me. Sometimes, I could swear I feel his presence nearby, as if he were a ghost hovering over me, watching me. Worse yet, each time I’m tempted to say “yes” when a boy asks me out, I remember Dan’s ring, and a “no” leaves my lips instead.
Would Alexei know if I dated someone at my school? And if he did, would he care?
I’d like to think that he wouldn’t, but I can’t risk it.
I can’t be responsible for another person disappearing because of me.
A few more drags, and I’m done with the joint. My head feels both heavy and light, my thoughts disjointed in the way only pot or a lot of alcohol can achieve. I’m not a fan of the latter because of my father, but I like getting high. I like this feeling of not being all there.
Sometimes, when my parents’ fights get especially brutal, I wonder what it would be like to not be there at all.
Pushing open the door of the stall, I come out, wash my hands, and make sure my makeup is in place. Then I make my way to the dance floor, where I find Risha and Giles grinding against their respective crushes.
Of course. I should’ve known that this whole “come with us, we need company because we don’t have dates” business was just a ploy to get me here. They’re probably hoping that I’ll get a little drunk, a little high, and next thing you know, I’ll be making out with some football player in the back of his daddy’s limo.