Page 20 of The Fire Beneath the Frost

Vera and I slipped into an easy rhythm, talking about the fool who dropped an entire bolt of wool into the gear assembly last week.Dimitri said little, just chewed his food, drank his tea, and watched—his gaze flicking between us like he wasn’t sure where to land.

Was he annoyed?Or… intrigued?

Or—my heart skipped—was he jealous of Vera?

A ridiculous thought.Dangerous, too.But it thrilled me.

Maybe Vera was right.Maybe he was one of us.

Then she stood up abruptly and reached into her coat pocket.“Oh!I nearly forgot.”

She pulled out two small, off-white slips of paper and set them on the table in front of me.

“Surprise.”

I squinted at them.Movie tickets.

She smiled.“Mira got them from the ballet.For that movie, Kin-dza-dza!Ever seen it?”

“No, but I’ve heard of it!”I picked them up.“It’s that weird sci-fi satire, right?A violinist ends up on another planet and everyone talks in this one-word language, and pants are a class symbol—?”

“Exactly.Sounds ridiculous.”

“Which is why I’ll probably love it.”

She grinned.“Well, I can’t go.I have to stay late tonight, then there’s a Party meeting.”She wrinkled her nose.“But you should go.Take a friend.”

She winked at me, then kissed my cheek again and floated off like she hadn’t just dropped a live grenade in my lap.

I watched her go, blinking, brain sputtering.

She saw us together.She saw how I laughed, how he looked at me, how I looked at him—and now she was practically gift-wrapping him.

Or maybe I was reading too much into it.Maybe she really didn’t care.

But the look she’d given me earlier… and the wink now…

I turned slowly back to Dimitri.He was watching me.Eyes calm.Waiting.

“Do you know about the movie?”I asked, heart racing.

He shook his head.“I don’t really follow that kind of thing.”

“Oh, you’d like it,” I blurted.Too quickly.“It’s a cult film, satire.It makes fun of the system without making fun of the system, if you know what I mean.They couldn’t say anything outright, so they set it on a desert planet where everyone wears bells on their pants to show class.It’s totally absurdist and low budget, and there’s this violinist who ends up stranded because of a teleportation mistake—it’s funny, but kind of sad, too.”

Dimitri didn’t interrupt.Just kept looking at me.His fingers had gone still on the rim of his tea glass.

God, he was beautiful when he listened.Like the entire room dropped away, and I was the only one speaking his language.The music swelled—hopeful, questioning, delicate.

I swallowed, my throat dry.My courage fraying at the edges.

“Anyway,” I said, glancing down at the tickets in my hands.“You could… come with me.If you wanted.”

There was a pause.

Then Dimitri said, voice soft, almost careful, “You’re inviting me?”

My stomach did a complicated little waltz.“Yes,” I said.“I mean.If you want to.It’s probably nonsense, but at least it’s not green wool.”

---