Infini (Aerial Ethereal #2)(89)

Katya smiles. “It’s pretty.”

And then the loudest, most raucous clamor enters the suite. Rowdy footsteps and too many Russian words and phrases to untangle. We all pause and look at the bedroom door, but no one pounds the wood or slips inside.

“Damn,” Camila whispers, her honey-brown eyes alight in shock. “Is that all of ‘em?”

“Probably,” Katya says in a louder voice. “Unless they’re my brothers, they won’t come in here. So they won’t bother you.” She has a rule about “no cousins” allowed in her bedroom, and they all respect her wishes.

We flinch at the sound of glass shattering, and I roll my eyes. I’m afraid for Rudy. Seriously, I left my potted cactus on the coffee table in the living room and there’s a chance someone will knock him over on purpose.

Guys, in a huge pack, are idiots. Not all the time, but most of the time, it’s true.

I’d go save Rudy, but running into a huge hoard of Kotovas is never a good idea. There will be teasing. Inappropriate jokes in Russian and English. If they know you’re cool with it, they’ll even pick you up and throw you over their shoulder.

I’m not cool with it, but Dimitri will mime the gesture to try and piss me off. I don’t get angry that easily, so it’s a futile mission.

Camila finishes Katya’s makeup: dark smoky purple, sparkly gray, and shimmery silver. Her orb-like eyes appear less youthful and more sultry. Even with all the glitter.

Katya can’t stop grinning at her features in the mirror. “Thank you.” She’s about to cry.

Camila hugs her tight. “I can always show you some tricks and tips when we have more time.”

“That’d be amazing.”

I jump at another crash, followed by cheering and laughter. “Shit.” I expel a breath, hoping Rudy is in one piece. Their noise drowns out the soca music—that’s how boisterous they are.

Returning to my seat on the floor, I apply ruby red lipstick.

“They’re probably trying to slap Nik’s ass,” Katya tells us. “They always do this two days in a row since we celebrate both of our birthdays on my actual birthday.” Nikolai turned twenty-seven yesterday.

Camila presses her ear to the door and listens but also whispers to us, “I’m close to my family, but there’s enough girls to offset the rampant testosterone. John is the one with all brothers…” she trails off and her jaw drops. “Oh my God.” She makes a face that sits between humor and what the fuck? “They really love the word tits.”

I shake my head with a wince. “I don’t know why they can’t call them nipples.”

“Or nips,” Camila adds.

“Boobs,” Katya chimes in, carefully opening the envelope.

Thora stares at the ceiling for a good response. “Breasts?”

We all laugh with Thora, and then Camila goes quiet, trying to hear through the door again. “Wait,” she says, “they said Baylee.”

Do I want to know?

Kind of. Maybe.

Okay, yeah I do.

“Someone mentioned ‘tits’ and your name together,” Camila says and pauses to listen more. “Rude, what the hell.”

I already know, and I don’t care. “They talk about which girls have ‘small tits’ all the time. I’m on the list.” I have A-cups. It’s not a secret, and this list isn’t glamorized. It’s a “meh, don’t touch that” list. I couldn’t care less about their fantasies.

“Let’s talk about their dicks,” Camila says, crossing her arms. “Which one has a small wiener? I’ll yell it.”

I’m all about ribbing Dimitri. So I say, “Dimitri has the tiniest dick.”

Camila grabs the doorknob, but before she opens it, she asks Katya, “If I just stick my head out, will they come in here?”

“Nope. They’re not allowed.” Katya unfurls Luka’s letter and the actual gift falls to her feet.

“Perfect.” Camila cracks open the door, not enough to be seen but to be heard, and she yells at the top of her lungs, “DIMITRI HAS THE TINIEST DICK!” Then she slams the door shut.

We all burst out laughing. I lie on my back, my stomach rising and falling and I have to cover my face with my hands—my smile hurts.

I hear the commotion outside. Russian curses and then in English, a lot of them shout, “Who was that?! Who is that?”

I roll on my side, a laughing cramp forming. And then slowly, my humor wanes and my smile softens. I see Katya reading Luka’s letter.

Love in her glassy eyes, she tries to suppress waterworks because of her makeup. She delicately picks up the fallen item.

An ID.

“What’s that?” Camila asks.

Katya flashes the present. “Luka got me a fake ID. It has my own picture and everything.”

“Cool brother,” Camila says, and her eyes flit to me with a smile. Like she knows I feel something at the mention of his name. How can she know for sure? I just met Camila.

My love for Luka can’t be that obvious. Can it? We would’ve been caught from the start of the list.

Suddenly a few hard knocks rap the door. I flinch.

Camila backs up and plops down on my bottom bunk, sitting forward in intrigue.

“You’re not allowed in here!” Katya calls out.