“There’s no way Bane’s gonna drink that.” Beck chortled from behind me, and I imagined him blowing his stupid, long brown hair away. Stupid because I had long hair, too, but at least I kept mine in a bun.
It was only then—with Beck behind me and Gail lined up with me, but not anywhere near Jesse—that I noticed that I was blocking people from Jesse. It had become second nature to me at this point.
See a person that’s not me ? put myself between him/her and Snowflake ? make sure he/she doesn’t get anywhere near her until we are out of the room.
Jesse started the blender and I watched in disgust as every single thing we had in stock swirled together into a smoothie from hell. Once she was done, she made a show of biting her lower lip, leaning forward, plucking a large slushie cup from the pyramid of cups and pouring the smoothie into it, as the entire room watched her with awe mixed with disbelief. I guessed she was oblivious to the fact that everyone was watching her. Or maybe she knew, and for a moment there, she was the Jesse prior to what had happened to her. Confident and feisty and a lot of fucking fun. She slid the cup across the counter and tilted her head sideways, batting her eyelashes.
“Here, Mr. Protsenko. I truly hope this will be to your satisfaction and will result in my employment.”
Silence. A guy at the far end of the room stood up from his chair and slapped his table repeatedly, shouting, “Drink. Drink. Drink. Drink.”
Seconds later, everyone was standing, balling their fists, urging me on to down that fucking nightmare of a smoothie. Take it from someone who’d visited Russia often enough to remember the small details—this shit could only happen in America. The way people unite to see someone do something completely stupid is uplifting, if not downright inspirational. Hell, Jackass made millions off that concept.
“You’re funny,” I said flatly.
“And you’re stalling.” She grinned.
Hot. Fucking. Damn.
But, really—was that my thank you for dragging her ass back to civilization? At the same time, I couldn’t ignore how fun it was to finally be challenged, and, yes, even ridiculed. Beck drummed the counter, and Gail clapped her hands excitedly, woo-hoo-ing like an extra in a nineties high school movie. Jesse’s eyes clung to my face, so I picked up the cup, my eyes locked on hers as it touched my lips.
“You’re going to regret it,” I hissed into the brown foam on my lips.
“So are you,” she whispered, her eyes holding mine.
I downed the whole disgusting thing without breathing through my nose once.
People burst into applause, like kernels of popcorn exploding in a microwave bag, and Jesse laughed so hard she had to brace herself against the counter. I pretended to launch at her, and she pretended to run, her shoulder brushing mine. Instead of flinching or running, she just straightened back up, wiped a happy tear off her face, and smiled at the brownish-greenish foam that clung to my upper lip.
“You’re hired,” I growled into her face.
For a second, it looked like she might just wipe the foam off with her thumb.
For a second, it looked like old Jesse would bulldoze her way into the room.
But in reality, she turned around and moved away, calling for Shadow.
That was fine by me, because even though I didn’t get the old Jesse, I’d still managed to do something monumental that day.
I’d killed The Untouchable. And for the first time in a long time, her sky wasn’t going to fall.
THAT NIGHT, I SKIPPED MY usual nighttime jog.
My head was reeling from the day. From Shadow’s upcoming blood work results. The new job. From kissing Bane on the cheek.
Habits and repetition were the only things that kept me from throwing myself off a cliff, and I still needed a physical outlet, so I went to the outside pool for a quick swim. I did a few laps then stopped in the middle of the pool, floating facedown with my arms stretched and eyes wide. I held my breath, my lungs burning with the last, deep breath I’d taken.
The only lights visible were reflecting on the water from the outdoor lamps. It looked and felt like I was floating in the atmosphere, with nothing to anchor me back home. It reminded me of the days after The Incident, when I’d contemplated suicide. I wasn’t sure how serious I’d been—deep down, the concept still seemed so crazy, but sometimes in the dead of the night, when it was really quiet, I waited for the tears to come out, and all I felt was emptiness.
I didn’t feel so empty now. Scared, yes, and very unsure. But there was excitement there, too. Roman ‘Bane’ Protsenko was a paid escort. But funnily enough, that took the pressure off. We weren’t a boy and a girl. We were two lonely, fucked-up souls. It made wanting Bane in my life acceptable. I wanted him to fix me.