Page 84 of Breaking Away

The answer is obvious to me. “Post your photography somewhere. Start there.”

“I’m being serious,” she exclaims.

“So am I. That’s what you should do.” Her work is beyond brilliant.

Her eyes go razor-thin. “Are you really giving me advice? Fine, Lokhov. To play better, get closer to your team. Invite them over for dinner.Start there.”

When I don’t answer, she cackles. It’s clear she doesn’t think I’ll do it. Turning on her heel, she walks out onto the terrace.The sun streams down on her, making the edges of her hair look caught on fire. The dress she’s wearing spreads outward from her waist, moving in the wind.

I follow her, my blood pumping harder. “I’ll do it.”

She swings around, mouth dropping open. “What?”

I give her the ghost of a smirk. “Let’s see who makes the most progress. I’ll listen to your advice about teamwork as long as you listen to mine about posting your photography.”

Her pacing starts again. “Why would I do that? What would the winner even get?”

To touch you again.

Just one more time, Princess, so I can convince myself it didn’t matter. That there’s no reason for me to lie awake at night, hard, knowing you’re sleeping a few doors down from me.

I shove my hand through my hair. “How about a dare?”

“What are the rules?”

“No rules.”

“What are the limitations?”

“No limitations.”

It’s freedom to do absolutely anything. I shouldn’t offer this. Every minute of my day is scheduled, managed, and brutally optimized. There should be no variation in what I eat, how I exercise, how many hours I sleep, and the number of workouts my cock gets when I jerk off.

Until her.

She’s the variation I can’t control. I need to walk away before it’s too late. Instead, I walk towards her. “Do we have a deal, Basra?”

Her mouth purses.

“Unless you’re afraid,” I wonder casually.

She bristles. “Not even. Fine. Let’s do it.”

We shake on it.

Our bet is made.

35

KAVI

Tyler is messaging me again.

He’s asking me what friend I’m staying with and how long I’ll be in Vancouver for. I answered him a fake name, saying two to three weeks, only so he would stop texting.

He hasn’t stopped.

Since then, I’ve muted his chat, but I can’t get it out of my head. It’s loud even when it’s quiet. It reminds me why I’m here and how I shouldn’t relax. That this time in my life isn’t permanent. If I don’t figure out how to provide for myself, I’ll run out of time and have nowhere to go again.

---