Page 52 of Unrecognizable Player

“I know this one.” He leans over and turns the dial on the stereo. “It’s the one non-heavy metal song Alice likes.”

“I still can’t believe she likes that stuff.”

“Why not? Because she’s a tiny Korean girl who plays in the marching band she can’t like heavy metal music?”

“No… I didn’t mean it like that, I just meant because she doesn’t dress like a goth.”

“Relax, I know what you meant.”

He flashes me a smile in the rear-view while Billie Eillish singsBirds of a Feather.

I drop Stef at home before giving the car back to Brown and head over to the library to squeeze in some work on my next finance assignment.

It’s only once I’m alone in the car with Stef’s smell lingering that I start to spiral. I’ve never gotten this close to a guy in real life before. A gay guy. A gay guy I definitely find attractive. A gay guy I think is hot as fuck.

I can’t focuson my assignment, and when I get back home, Stef’s sitting on the couch in his stupid sexy sweats, watching another house flipping show.Where does he find them all?I try to make an excuse and go straight to my room, but he’s focused on the screen and starts talking to me anyway.

“I’m going to the restaurant tomorrow at dinner time, so if you wanna smash some plates, you should drop by, there’s a 50/50 chance my dad has a stack sitting around.”

Say no. Just say no thank you. Tell him you’re busy…

“Are you gonna be there?”He just said that, idiot.

“Yep. Gonna play some music for the customers.”

“Okay, I’ll be there.”

“Great, Baba has some donations for your volunteer thing too.”

“How do you know about that?”

“Alice told me. You guys are volunteering at the refugee center right? You need food and clothes donations and you and Mischa translate for refugees when they go to get legal advice and stuff.”

He’s looking at me now like I’m actually a good person. Just because I do the bare minimum and use what I know and what I have to alleviate a tiny bit of the suffering people are going through in the world right now.

“It’s not a big deal. Most of them don’t really wanna speak Russian, so it’s mostly Mischa doing all the work. I can barely understand Ukrainian.”

He shrugs. “I still think it’s really cool that you’re helping out.”

I shrug. “We have to do volunteer stuff with the hockey team anyway.”

“Yeah, but, you chose that, and it sounds like you volunteer there all the time.”

“Not all the time. My babulya does though – my grandma. And anyway, they need us.”

He gives me this look, like I hung the moon, or like I’m brave or some shit, and I can’t stand it. If only he knew how chicken-shit I really am. How much I hide every single day.

“Look, just because my family are Russian, it doesn’t mean we condone what Putin’s doing right now.” I snap.

There you go, that look of admiration has slipped into one of hurt and confusion. “I know I-”

“Goodnight Steffy.”Fuck!

13

STEFANOS

From the second I get off the subway, I’m home. The sound of the railway bridge clattering overhead, the smell of exhaust fumes, tzatziki and roasting meat from the Souvlaki King van. The whoosh of washing machines as I pass the laundromat on 31stStreet. Little houses squished between construction sites building high-rise apartment blocks. The old ladies out sweeping their stoops.

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