leaned forward and rested my elbows on the small table. “Did you know he’s having a concert up in Mansfield next weekend? None of my friends want to go. They said his music is for old people.” I frowned.
Sergei laughed. “Yeah, I don’t know anyone interested in going either.”
“I wonder if there are tickets left. Maybe we could go together.”
He stared at me over his cup, and I shifted backward in my seat. I hoped he didn’t think I was suggesting anything like a date. The U.S. Figure Skating Federation wouldn’t approve of a coach and student dating.
I
hastily added, “You know, since no one else wants to go . . . and we don’t know when he’ll have another show here.”
Sergei nodded and his mouth gradually opened into a smile. “Yeah, we should go. The last concert I went to was about five years ago, right after I moved to Virginia from Moscow. It was Dave Matthews Band. I hadn’t heard of them, but some people at the rink invited me.”
“ Ahh , I love them. I’ve never seen them live.”
“They were great. Turned me into a big fan.” He tapped his fingers on his cup. “But what I remember most about that night was the taxi ride home. I didn’t have a car, and I lived way outside the city. The taxi driver didn’t speak good English and neither did I at the time. I fell asleep, and when he woke me up, I had no idea where we were. He’d misunderstood me and taken me to a town twenty miles from where I lived.”
I
burst into laughter. “Oh, no!”
“When he finally got me home, I didn’t have enough cash to pay the ridiculous fare, and we got in an argument about whose fault it was he took me to the wrong place.” He chuckled and shook his head. “I gave him all the money I had and left him outside my apartment, cursing me out.”
Giggles echoed in my throat. “That’s crazy. Well, the good news is we can drive ourselves to Mansfield. Speaking of which, I should get home and check on the tickets.” I snagged my car keys from my purse. “If I find some, I’ll go ahead and order them.”
“Let me know later how much I owe you.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t curse you out if you don’t pay me right away.” I smiled, and Sergei laughed.
With my keys in one hand and my coffee in the other, I stood and aimed for the door. “I’ll call you when I get them!”
Typical summertime traffic slowed my drive home. I loved the beauty of the Cape during summer with the hydrangeas in bloom and the deep orange sunsets, but I missed the peacefulness of winter on the island. After crawling bumper to bumper on Route Six from South Dennis to Hyannis, I finally arrived at my parents’ vacation townhouse, which had become my year-round home.
In the sun-splashed living room, my roommate, Aubrey, was hunched over one of her ice dance costumes, needle and thread in hand.
“What happened to your dress?” I dropped down beside her on the beige chenille couch.
She pushed a few stray blond hairs out of her eyes and squinted at the pink fabric. “Some stones fell off last time I wore it.”
I
picked up my laptop from the coffee table and drummed my fingers while it booted up. With a few clicks, I landed on Ticketmaster.com.
Aubrey glanced at the screen. “What are you buying tickets for?”
“Sting’s concert in Mansfield.
Turns out Sergei is as big a fan as I am.”
Her perfectly-shaped eyebrows curved upward. “You’re going on a road trip with Sergei?”
“Mansfield is an hour away. I don’t call that a road trip.”
She straightened the short skirt of the costume and examined the shimmering silver stones around the hem. “You two seem pretty chummy these days,” she said with a sidelong glance.
I
shrugged. “We like to talk when we get coffee. No big deal.”
“It’s a big deal when you start going out at night together. Coaches aren’t supposed to be that friendly with their students. Especially not young, hot coaches.”
My
face warmed, and I focused on the computer screen. “We work together and have a few common interests. It’s nothing more.”
“I’m just trying to look out for you, Em . You need to be careful.”
My
fingers paused on the keyboard. Aubrey was the same age as me , but her dating history could fill a book three times the size of mine. She’d been breaking hearts since I’d met her at thirteen. Our gap in boyfriend experience sometimes led her to treat me like a little sister.
“Sergei and I have a professional relationship. You don’t need to worry.”
She didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t press the issue. I turned back to the computer and concentrated on selecting two seats for the concert, ignoring the tiny voice in my head that echoed Aubrey’s warning.
****
A rumble of thunder rolled in the distance, and both Sergei and I looked skyward. Fast moving clouds hid the moon. A roof covered half the amphitheater but not our seats in the farthest reaches of the venue. Sting had finished his first set, and I was regretting not bringing my rain slicker.
Sergei rose from the long bench. “Do you want a soda or anything?”
“I’ll take a bottle of water.” I reached into my jeans pocket for the cash I’d stashed.
He waved away the money. “I’ve got it.”
I
smiled as I watched his long legs take him down the packed aisle. I hadn’t been on a date in so long that I’d forgotten how nice it was having a guy do the little things like fight the crowd for concessions and . . . Wait a second . I shook my head. This isn’t a date , remember ? Just because Sergei opened his car door for me and wiped the dirt off my seat at the amphitheater didn’t mean our outing was anything more than friendly. He was being polite.
The smell of popcorn wafted past me as people returned from the concession stand and climbed into our row. Sergei came back with two bottles of water and handed me one.
“This is definitely the best concert I’ve been to,” he said.
“I saw U2 a few years ago in Boston, and they blew me away.” I paused, and Sergei raised an eyebrow. “But so far, this is even better.”
A lone raindrop plopped on my nose, and my eyes drifted to the sky again. “I think we’re about to get drenched.”
A few more drops fell, and Sergei said, “If it gets too bad, we can leave if you want.”
“No way.
I don’t wanna miss any of the show. Unless you’re afraid you’re going to melt?” I bit my bottom lip to stifle a smile.
He laughed. “No, I can handle it.”
The drops soon increased to a steady drizzle and pelted us on and off through the rest of the show. I sang along to every song while the rain coated my lips. Next to me , Sergei patted his leg in time to the beat of each tune, and every now and then, his arm bumped mine. His skin felt warm despite being wet, and with each touch my arm tingled.
By the time Sting finished his second encore, my navy T-shirt clung to me and my hair was soaked, but I was too awed by the music to care. I peeked at Sergei, and his short golden brown hair had darkened from the rain, making his blue eyes stand out even more. We moved with the thick crowd to the parking lot and had just hopped into Sergei’s SUV when the drizzle became a downpour.
“We got out of there right in time,” I said.
“You mean you wouldn’t want to sit outside in this? What, afraid you would melt, Emily?”
I
laughed. “Oh, I could’ve handled it.”
The windshield wipers slapped back and forth, drowning out the classic rock on the radio. Sergei turned on the heater and drove slowly until we reached the interstate and pointed south to the Cape.
“I’m so glad we came,” he said. “He sounded amazing live.”
I
combed my fingers through my hair, unknotting the long, damp waves. “I know. I’d see him again in a heartbeat.”
“Next time he comes, we’ll have to get tickets early so we can be closer to the stage.” He shot me a smile. “And out of the rain.”
“Definitely.”
I returned his smile.
A shiver sped down my spine at the thought of spending another evening with Sergei. I didn’t know if I was still on a high from the concert, but being in the dark car with him was heightening all my senses. I’d always thought he was attractive, but only now did I notice how his smile softened the sharp angles of his face, how sexy my name sounded in his Russian accent, how his T-shirt hugged his lean yet muscular chest.
I
gulped and set my eyes on the highway in front of us. You need to put those thoughts out of your mind right now.
Chapter Two
“Slice the dough thinner, Em-i-ly .” I mimicked Grandma’s heavy Italian accent and gestured wildly with my hands. “Spa- ghetti , not fett -u- c cine !”
Sergei stopped drinking mid-sip and coughed, his coffee rattling in his throat. His shoulders shook with laughter, and he pounded a fist to his chest, his breathing steadying with each thump.
“You don’t look Italian at all,” he said, still chuckling at my imitation of my mother and late grandmother teaching me how to make spaghetti from scratch.
“Because I have blond hair and blue eyes?”
I smiled and tugged on one of my dark blond locks. “You’ve seen my dad. I got all his features and none of my mom’s. Got my athletic genes from him, too. My mom is ridiculously uncoordinated.”
“Remind me to thank him for that,” Sergei said.
He pushed his chair away from the table, and my heart clouded over, as it did every day when we’d emptied our cups. Our coffee shop chats were the highlight of my days. The lush greenery of summer had faded into autumn, but my thoughts about Sergei had grown even more vibrant. We’d discovered our shared love for literature–classics for him, contemporary for me–and our obsession with Italian food.
We stepped outside, and I squinted from the late afternoon sun. Sergei slipped his aviator shades over his nose. “Do you have any exciting plans this weekend?”
“Aubrey and I are cooking and having a few friends over tomorrow night. Or rather, I’m cooking and Aubrey is cleaning the kitchen. That’s our standard arrangement.”