Two Months and Three Days (Sinister Romance #1)

Chapter 8 (Part I)

Miracles don't happen. Arina barely managed to get a B in her chemistry exam, and that was only thanks to her good record with the professor. So quiet, diligent, and intelligent, she had suddenly lost the ability to keep anything in her head except for his crazy gray eyes, cunning smile, and broad shoulders. The reality seemed blurry and fuzzy, and thoughts about the impossible refused to leave her head, tormenting her soul and fueling the fire that was burning away all of her strength. What if he had kissed her? What would it feel like, kissing a man like Maxim Korshun? Would it be a gentle, slow kiss like in "Ghost" with Patrick Swayze when he and Demi Moore were sculpting that clay pot? Or would it be a passionate kiss full of despair, beyond life and death, like in "Titanic" when they were standing on top of the sinking ship? No, it would probably be a scalding and dangerous kiss, foreboding trouble, like in "9½ Weeks."

Arina's next thought was, You're so stupid! Nothing will ever happen. It's impossible.

Thinking about it was as exhausting as slave labor. Arina couldn't remember anything even after she had read the textbook twice. Now, she really did look like a stray, starving kitten. She was helplessly looking at the professor with her fathomless blue eyes shining on her skinny, pale face.

"What's wrong?" the professor asked. "You have been attending all the lectures, haven't you? Is this all because of work?"

"I guess," Arina muttered, feeling extremely embarrassed. After all, how could she tell him that she had spent two nights in a row on empty talk about the son of some oligarch? Damn him! And damn empty dreams.

"You shouldn't be working night shifts, Arina," the professor gave her a pitiful look. She felt very uncomfortable. "You need to study. If you want, I can recommend you to the dean's office. They need a secretary at the Viral Infections Department for the next semester. Can you type?"

"A little bit," Arina lied. She wasn't very computer savvy but becoming a department secretary . . . was her dream. Working at the university would bring a steady income and require less time. She could be studying right there, too. She would still be working night shifts though. She badly needed the money.

"Okay, I'll talk to them. In the meantime, promise me that you will get a good rest this summer."

"Of course," she mumbled. Like hell, she would get any rest. Starting tomorrow. Yeah, right! How would she pay for her next semester then? There was some talk that they were going to raise the prices. That's why she wanted to talk to someone at the clinic today so that she could get extra shifts this summer. She wasn't going to go on vacation. She would just visit her mom for a week and that was it.

"Well, . . . here is your record book." The professor gave Arina a pensive gaze. Good girl. Not like the rest with their dyed hair and tattoos all over their bodies. Definitely not from Moscow. Very intelligent.

Nellie was still fretting and fuming, trying to turn back time. She had gathered all the available articles on Maxim and his father, Konstantin Korshunov, trying to figure out how to make sure that Arina and Maxim met again. Konstantin Korshunov was a mysterious figure. There was almost nothing about him on social media except for very general information. He was still alive, he worked, he had a son. Maxim's mother lived in London. His parents were divorced.

"I'm not listening to you! Not listening!" Arina was running around their apartment with her hands over her ears. "I don't care. I don't want to know anything about him!"

"You're so stupid! This is your chance. Why not?"

She didn't say anything. She grabbed her sandwich and put it in her bag, wincing as she realized that she had made it using that same loaf of bread. She felt as if she had been struck by lightning, from head to toe. She instantly remembered Maxim's face and how he had looked when he was staring at the piece of bread she was holding, and laughing.