Page 10 of One For my Enemy

“Right, sure,” Lev said, rolling his eyes as he took a sip of his whisky. “Clearly.”

She gave him a final parting glare and spun, heading towards a booth in the corner as the blond, Eric, trailed after her, continuing to insist on something as he went.

“Not your problem,” Lev muttered to himself, watching Eric’s hand reach out for Sasha’s arm again. “Not. Your. Problem,” he exhaled grumpily, shifting to take a seat at one of the available bar stools. He’d been told to blend in, after all, and it wasn’t like he was willing to get in a fight with a tipsy blond who clearly spent too much time on his hair.

The girl didn’t want his help. So be it.

Lev took another sip, glancing around again.

The bar was full of a variety of NYU students; unsurprising, as it wasn’t terribly far from campus. None of them looked particularly like the type to buy magical drugs, but that didn’t make it out of the question. Overhead, the speakers blared some nondescript rap music; maybe Drake, maybe J. Cole, impossible to tell at this volume. Lev waved a hand, turning the sound down slightly, and shifted his attention to two of the students standing at the bar, one of whom was wearing an NYU hoodie.

“—not totally useless,” one was saying. “I got some Adderall from him earlier this year. Studying for the LSAT’s a bitch, man.” He made a face, downing his glass as he signaled to the bartender for another. “Hate it.”

“Adderall, to study?” replied the one in the hoodie. “How early-to-mid 2000s of you, Anderson.”

“Devastating insult,” the other remarked drily. “And for the record, I’d call you by your last name, only I don’t know how the fuck to pronounce it. Hey,” he added, picking up the beer the bartender slid towards him, “so, should we check on Eric? I mean, Sasha’s right. We need to come up with a little bit more before we decide how to split up the roles.”

“Meh, Eric’s just being a drunk idiot,” said the hoodie. “Besides, I think Sasha left.”

“With him?”

“Maybe, I don’t know. I don’t see her, or Eric, either—”

“Not your business,” Lev grumbled to himself again, reminding himself that the comment about the Adderall was probably more relevant to his purposes.Blend in,he thought, forcing himself not to react. “Not your business, not your business, not your bus-”

“Oh, yeah, he’s going for it,” hoodie said, gesturing to the window where a blond head was bending towards a girl with long dark hair. “What a tool. I mean, I’d say read the room, but who knows. Maybe she’s into it.”

“Think we should check on her? She did have a couple drinks and, I don’t know. I don’t think she’s really the drinking type.”

Yes,Lev thought furiously.Yes, obviously you should check on her, come on—

“Nah, it’s fine,” hoodie said, shrugging. “She’s a big girl.”

“Goddamn it,” Lev swore, slamming the glass down on the bar and heading outside, groaning furiously as he went.

I. 8

(Precautionary Measures.)

“Letgoof me,” Sasha seethed again, turning her head away as Eric tried to coax her back. He was insisting (once again) on something like the importance of their project; or, less flatteringly, her inability to be reasonable. “I saidlet go—”

“Hey,” came the voice of the guy from inside the bar, the word emerging like a slap in the cold January air. “She said to let go, asshole. Does she sound like she’s joking?”

Sasha groaned internally, not bothering to turn around as Eric stiffened, annoyed. “Ignore him,” she informed Eric, before winding up and punching him hard in the nose, remembering at the last second not to tuck her thumb into her palm (something Marya had taught her when she was twelve, just as a precautionary measure) and splintering the bone of his face beneath her knuckles.

“There,” she said in the same moment that Eric doubled over, howling with pain. “Well, I’m going home. Email me whatever it is you want me to do for the project, I don’t care, I’m done with you. And as foryou,” she said, wobbling slightly and shaking out her fingers as she pivoted to face the dark-haired, lean-hipped, busybody so-and-so from the bar, “I said I could handle it.”

The guy from the bar had frozen, thunderstruck. “I suppose you can,” he mused, as Eric let out another groan, straightening with his hand pressed to the trail of blood dripping from his probably-broken nose.

“Come on, Sasha,” Eric grunted as she turned away, heading unsteadily down the block. “It’s starting to snow, you’re going to freeze out here. Let me get you a cab, at least,” he was calling after her, voice muffled into his palm, “or, I don’t know, let me take you home—”

“Oh, shut up, you asshat,” muttered the guy from the bar, his footsteps beating against the pavement as he hurried to catch up to her. “Hey, um, Sasha,” he called out, uncertain. “Just—look, at least give me your hand—”

“What?No,” Sasha snapped at him, pivoting to face him and then promptly swatting him away. “Look, I’m fine, okay? It’s just a couple of blocks to the subway.”

“Yeah, no,” the guy said firmly. “I’m walking you there. Have you seen you? You practically fell in the street just now—though, that left hookwasimpressive,” he added tangentially, looking as though he hadn’t previously wanted to admit it, but was powerless not to. “I really did not see that coming. Well played, honestly—”

“Well, how very noble of you,” Sasha informed him stiffly, “but listen, I didn’t want Eric touching me, and I definitely don’t wantyoutouching me, so you can just go, thanks—”

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