In the Beginning (Volkov Bratva #1)(12)

“Mishca Volkov,” he answered softly, like it was only meant for her to hear.

A throat cleared behind them, a man appearing to be on the razor’s edge as he gestured for them to move forward.

Lost in the moment, Lauren hadn’t noticed that the line had gone up. Smiling apologetically at the man, she withdrew her hand and stepped up. She could still feel the press of his skin against hers.

“So...I’ve never heard your accent before,” she said once she was sure the man wouldn’t be mowing her down to get to the register.

He chuckled. “It’s Russian.”

“Really? It’s not like any of the Russian accents I’ve heard.”

He looked amused “If you’re talking about that angry barking you normally hear in movies, not all of us sound like that, I assure you.” That was true enough. His accent was smoother, it flowed easily with his words. “Besides, I’ve lived here for years.”

They stepped forward as two people stepped out of line after ordering. “I wager you’re not from here either.”

She shook her head, smiling ruefully. “What? Is it the accent?”

He grinned, revealing a set of charming white teeth. “Just so.”

“I moved here from Michigan.”

“Seems pretty far, no?” Mishca asked.

She shrugged. “NYU is a great school.”

Mishca didn’t have a chance to respond as it was Lauren’s turn to order. She thought about trying out another of their drinks, but thought better of it, ordering her usual, but asking that they add more milk. She didn’t want a repeat of what happened the last time she was here with him.

Though it had seemed like she had been in the cafe for a while, only ten minutes had passed since she walked in, still plenty enough time for her to go over her notes. She found a table in a relatively private corner, going over the pictures in the slideshow, but ever so often, she glanced up at Mishca over the top of her screen.

He was still up at the register, leaning against the counter, with his arms folded over his chest, oblivious to the girls all swooning over him. She couldn’t fault their blatant attempts to get his attention because she knew that if she was a bit more confident in her looks, she might have tried something more with him, but she was satisfied nonetheless because for her, having a conversation without tripping over her words with a guy that looked like that was good enough.

Shaking her head, she turned back to her computer, focusing on the images, trying to pinpoint one specific element of the photo to remember it by, a trick she had picked up on in middle school.

“Do you mind?”

Lauren blinked up in surprise as Mishca stood just across from her, gesturing to the empty seat at her table.

Butterflies fluttered to life in her stomach, but she shook her head anyway. There was something different about standing in a line and talking to a stranger, but they were no longer amongst a crowd of other people. This felt slightly more intimate, sitting together, a few tables away from anyone else. Maybe it was for this reason that her momentary bravery in talking to him was wavering because as he sat across from her, she felt consumed by his presence at a loss for words.

“So you’re a student then?” He asked, taking a sip of his coffee, steam billowing from the lid.

“Yea. Are you?” She kind of hoped he was, thinking that she might see him around on campus.

“No, I graduated a couple years ago.”

So that would make him about twenty-three? Twenty-four? Not that much older than her.

“You’re up so early though.”

He traced the rim of his cup with his finger, and just on his inner forearm, she could make out a line of script inked into his skin. “I can sleep when I’m dead.”

She nearly choked, making him smile. “That’s a bit morbid.”

He laughed, glancing at her computer screen. “ Hammurabi’s Code. Let me guess, Art History?”

“You knew that just by glancing at it?”

“My step-mother insisted that I take a few art courses. I actually hated Babylonian art because on every test dealing with it, I always got the question pertaining to him wrong.”

“Seems fair enough that you remember him now,” she replied.

He rolled his eyes, looking over the rest of the photos in the slides. “You have no idea.”

He drew closer, using his hand to point out different things about the slide that she committed to memory, but as she tried to stay focus, her attention was stolen by the whiff of the cologne he wore. At least, she thought it was cologne. He had a warm, musky scent, like sandalwood and it was hard not to just lean into him and inhale deeply, but even with her lack of social skills, she knew that would probably creep him out.

So instead, she paid diligent attention to his tips as they went over each, glad that he was pointing out certain details that she might not have paid attention to otherwise. He was easy enough to talk to, making her lose track of time until her bell rang when a young couple walked in. She glanced down at her phone, almost saddened that she had to leave.

“Oh, I’ve got to go,” she said grabbing for her bag.

Mishca leaned away, giving her space to pack her things away. Once she was finished, he stood as she did, making her blush at his attentiveness.

“It was nice to meet you, Mishca.”