Yanina
“Yanina… I need you,” Demyan’s voice at three in the morning sounds hollow, even over the phone. I can hear the raw pain in his words, the strain behind them.
“Dem, what’s wrong?” Trying to keep my panic in check, I slip into the hallway so as not to wake my roommate. “Did you get into an accident? Are you in the hospital? Is it something with your family?”
“I can’t talk about it… not without you here. Please… come to me. Something’s happened,” I’ve never heard this upbeat, life-loving guy sound so broken.
“I’ll be on the first flight out. I’ll text you when to pick me up,” I mumble, my voice trembling with fear. “Wait for me, and don’t do anything rash.”
A fleeting thought crosses my mind that maybe something’s happened to Max, but I bite my tongue before I can voice it.
We haven’t spoken about Yavorivsky in almost a year—ten months and three days, to be exact. I’ve made a point not to ask, and Demyan has made a point not to bring it up, even though we talk regularly. Apart from the last three days, there hasn’t been a single day when Demyan didn’t call me. I’ve grown so used to his jokes, his silly antics, even the sound of his voice, that I can’t imagine life without them. But tonight… tonight, his voice has me deeply worried.
I get incredibly lucky—someone canceled their ticket, so I manage to book the last seat on a morning flight to Kyiv at eight. If everything goes smoothly, I’ll see Demyan in just nine and a half hours.
“Why on earth am I dragging myself out of bed at this hour?” Megan grumbles. “Nina, tell me, why the heck can’t you sleep?” Here, they call me Nina. Here, I’m the studious overachiever who, despite being shy and a bit of a loner, has managed to make new friends and even save up some money by occasionally waitressing at the campus café. Here, Stefan Tally, the most popular guy in his year and a soon-to-be graduate, has been making moves on me. Here, my friends sometimes manage to drag me to parties, and I rarely think about Max, who hasn’t reached out in any way since. But when I do think of him… my memories burn hot and cold, my hands tremble, and my nose stings with unshed tears. The pain of what happened between us still lingers, his words still pierce my foolish heart like jagged shards. Maybe that’s why I haven’t been able to kiss Stefan, why my experience in romantic relationships remains at zero. Apart from that one night with Max… nothing else has happened. I can’t seem to cross a barrier that no longer has a name. Meanwhile, I’m pretty sure Demyan secretly rejoices that no one has managed to get me into bed. Whenever I’ve told him about guys showing interest, like Stefan, with whom I’ve been on three dates, I could hear the jealous growl in his voice. Sure, he teases me, saying I’m still firmly in the “prickly virgin” category since one night doesn’t count, but every time, this devil of a man can’t hide his sigh of relief when I complain that my love life is going nowhere.
“Can’t sleep because I’m packing. I’m flying home, Meg,” I say, while inwardly whining about how much I’ll miss this place.
“Wait, what? Why so sudden? You were supposed to go in August, and it’s only June! I’m not ready to let you go!” Messing up her pink bangs, my friend’s face instantly clouds over. It’s hard to believe that in the beginning, we couldn’t get along. This troublemaker used to drive me up the wall, but now… now it feels like I’m leaving behind a sister.
“There’s no time to waste. Demyan needs me back urgently. Something’s happened, something awful, I think, and he needs my support as a friend.”
“Yeah, right, ‘as a friend.’ Three times over! And she still buys it,” Megan snorts, snatching my favorite tank top from the pile of clothes. “I’m keeping this as a keepsake. I was secretly hoping that hottie Dem would fly out here himself so I could see him in person. Did you tell him he even showed up in one of my steamy dreams after I binge-looked at all his photos?”
“I did. Demyan said to tell you he’s very sorry for your loss,” I reply with a smile. Megan always knows how to make me laugh.
I can just imagine the pair they’d make—and I can’t help but let out a goofy giggle.
“What a jerk! I hope everything turns out okay for him, and you finally fall for his charm. I’ll miss you and bug you with calls. Heck, I might even fly over someday and snag myself a Ukrainian heartthrob,” she throws her arms wide, only to pull me into a tight hug a second later.
These past ten months haven’t flown by for me; on the contrary, they’ve felt like years. I’ve changed. Living abroad, surrounded by new people with different mindsets, habits, and perspectives, has had a profound impact on me. I’ve gained invaluable experience, and I don’t regret taking this leap for a second. I’ve become emotionally stronger, tougher, and I’ve started to believe in myself, which has done wonders for my self-esteem. Now I know I can be liked, that I can be desirable to men. I’m no longer the invisible gray mouse, the insecure, naive oddball. …Though, admittedly, my romantic life is still on pause, which means some lingering stress remains—a small scar from my first love that keeps me from moving forward. But I plan to deal with that too.
Despite the sudden change of plans, I’m actually glad to be heading home a bit earlier. I can’t wait to see my mom and spend a few days with her. And, if I’m honest, I’ve missed Demyan too. So when I spot him at the airport… I break into a run and throw myself into his arms, not even trying to hide my genuine joy.
“Demyan… God, it feels so good to hug you! You haven’t changed a bit!” I mutter as his strong arms wrap tightly around me. Demyan lets out a satisfied growl, shamelessly squeezing me. “Except your eyes—they look sad,” I pull back, unable to hold back my tenderness, and cup his face in my hands to look into those gray eyes once more.
“Kitten, you’re here, and I already feel so much better,” he says, a real smile breaking through. He takes my hands from his face and pulls me close again, kissing me—first on one cheek, then the other, and then on the lips… briefly, tenderly, without tongue, but even that small kiss sends a sweet, trembling warmth spreading across my skin. It’s almost frightening… because I liked it. For the first time in ten months, a guy’s touch has affected me this much.
He’s just as striking, stylish, and sexy as ever. The same Demyan—the Demon—who smells of expensive cologne and irresistible temptation, whose wild charm still drives girls crazy.
“Babe, you’ve filled out in all the right places! I can’t help but drool now. New haircut, new scent… I’m in deep trouble!” he tries to joke, but a flicker of worry still lingers in the depths of his ashen eyes.
“Dem, I need to know what’s going on. During the flight, my mind was racing with possibilities.”
“Let’s go. I’ll tell you everything at home,” he says, wrapping one arm around me while grabbing my suitcase with the other, leading me toward the exit. Leading me… home?