From Lukov with Love

by Mariana Zapata

I glanced at the body beside mine. His sweater was chunky but not that chunky. There was no body fat on him. He was all elegant, rock-solid muscle on long arms and long legs. It wasn’t a body that knew pizza.

“What is Jasmine’s favorite food?” The idiot beside me didn’t miss a beat. “Chocolate cake.” How the hell did he know that? “Is that true?” the other woman asked. I was trying not to look at him like he was crazy for knowing that, and somehow I managed to nod.

There had been a couple of girls he’d gone out with back in the day but nothing serious. Not when there was something else he loved more. I got it. I really did. Not that I’d ever admit how much we had in common, but I understood.

Nothing and nobody would ever come between my dreams and me.

And imagining Ivan not owning the ice wasn’t a reality I could picture, because he was the same as I was. Just evil. Well, annoying and evil.

“I can’t see him doing anything else,” I made myself respond honestly, unfortunately. Beside me, even he shrugged like he had n...

Amanda must have seen that because she then asked, “What about Jasmine?” There was no hesitation before his reply. “There’s nothin...

“If Ivan could meet one person living or dead, who would it be?” she asked. I wanted to say Jeffrey Dahmer, but Amanda was looking at me, so instead, I went with “Jesus.” There was a pause and a “Correct.”

“What about Jasmine?” I glanced at him, watching as he made a thoughtful expression before answering. “Stephen King.” I didn’t wait for the woman to ask me if it was true, and instead frowned as I asked, “Why?” “He wrote your favorite book.” I blinked. “Misery.”

My mom used to say I would rather stay up all night than ask anyone for help.

My hand instantly went to my wrist, and I gave my bracelet a spin. There is nothing to be mad at. He didn’t call you dumb. He didn’t say you couldn’t read. He was just messing with you. The same way you were messing with him, and he didn’t complain or cry about it. Don’t be dumb. Don’t be all sensitive and shit. You’ve heard worse. And I had. So why was I so damn mad, and maybe the tiniest bit… hurt?

God, I was such a weak shit. Why hadn’t I just talked to him?

Had I been mad? No. Had he joked about something I was sensitive about? Yes. It would tell him that he’d caught on to one of the few things I was hung up over, but telling him that might just make him pick on me more.

Because that’s what we did, and the only person I could blame was myself. And him.

“Are you two ever going to get along?” Ivan said, “Yes” at the same time I said, “No,” giving him a dirty-ass look as I said it. Coach Lee sighed, not even looking up as she did it. “Forget I asked. Let’s get started, shall we?”

“Goddammit,” I hissed as I banged my forearms on the steering wheel and hissed out, “Mother-fucking-son-of-a-bitch-ass-whore. FUCK ME!”

“I’m sorry to bother you—” He let out a muffled chuckle. “How many times have I told you you’re not a bother? What’s going on?”

“It’s fine. Thank you. I’m sorry to bother you.” “Girl, what did I just say? You’re never a bother.

Oh God. I hated him. I hated him even more when he smiled like he thought he was hilarious.

“You promise you won’t kill me?” He grinned. “I promise if I do, it’ll be quick and painless.”

Circling back around the front of the car after sending my mom a picture of Ivan’s plate number, because if there was anyone who would raise hell to get me back, it was that woman,

then looking back at Ivan when I didn’t think he could see me. The last thing I wanted was for him to catch me taking in how perfectly shaped his nose was, and how well it fit into the profile of the rest of his bone structure. His jaw was this thing that I’d overheard the older teenage girls babble over. His cheekbones and brow bones were proportionate to the rest of his face. To me, his face reminded me of one that would belong to a prince or something. Royal. Not that I would ever admit that.

And it wasn’t like it mattered when under that pretty face and pretty skin was evil incarnate.

Karina was sweet most of the time, but had a backbone that I respected a lot. She didn’t take most things seriously, unless she really cared about them. She balanced me out. She was warm and easygoing where I… wasn’t.

I didn’t hate him. I hated my ex and a few other people, but I just didn’t like Ivan. He was argumentative, arrogant, blunt…. I’d just described myself, hadn’t I? Shit.

There was a reason I had never brought a boyfriend over to my house to meet my family. And now... well, now I was going to bring one of the most important people I would ever meet and have a relationship with over to see these psychos, even if it was only for a moment to greet my mom.

and I knew she had found a kind, decent man. If he hadn’t been, my mom and I had been ready to whoop his ass one dark, rainy night when he couldn’t identify us.

“You’re my fourth favorite figure skater,” James said, shooting me a wink. Fourth? Even Jojo wondered the same thing. “Who’s one through three?” “Jasmine.” “Two and three?” “Jasmine.”

My dead heart gave a little burn of emotion, and if I was the kind of person to blow someone a kiss, I would have done it to him.

“I’d push you out of the way if you were about to get run over,” I told him and meant it. He smiled and winked at m...

I smiled back at him before glancing at Ivan to see him watching me. I was about to ask him what the hell he was looking at but stopped when I remembered I had agreed to try and be fr...

“Would you push me out of the way of a car?” Jojo asked. “No. But I’d pick some pretty ...

And that was enough of that. I’d been a little shit. That shouldn’t surprise anyone.

“Your family is funny,” he kept going. “Sure they are.” “You already know mine, it’s only fair.” “Fair for what?” “For us. Being friends.”

I could only manage to see the back of Ivan’s head as he nodded, slowly and thoughtfully, like he was thinking the same thing I was. And his next words confirmed it. “She’s going to kill us.” Because she was. She sure as fuck was.

I eyeballed him as he reached for the paper towel roll someone had left in the center of the island. He ripped off one, let his hand hover there for a moment and then ripped another one. Just as I started to cut into my lasagna, something white dropped onto my lap. It was one of the paper towels.

“I wasn’t sure if you could reach them,” he whispered, being a smart-ass.

“You know, because you’re short.”

watched my family members to see who was going to continue giving him the third degree. Because that’s what this was, and that’s what was going to happen. It’s what I’d been trying to avoid. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t my boyfriend; he was just of an important figure in my life, if not even more important. Actually, he was definitely more important than any of those wastes of time.

no one can really tell him what to do.” Across the table, I heard Jojo mutter, “We have one of those in the family,”

“Your sister is a beautiful, strong woman who has done things millions of other people can’t do. Her body is honed from thousands of hours of practice. She has nothing to be ashamed of. We all have nipples. I breastfed you and you didn’t complain then.”

“Breasts are natural—” “I know, Mom. I know they are. I love and respect women. Breasts. I just don’t want them in my face—” “They represent womanhood, beauty—” I’m pretty sure Jojo started choking. “Mom, please—”

“It’s close-minded, sexist mentalities that think just because we have vaginas and breasts that women are the weaker sex—” “You’re not weak. None of you are weak, I swear—” “Do you know what it’s like—”

“Women marched, rallied, and were assaulted to make your mother and your sister human beings that weren’t their husbands’ properties.”

“If your sister wants to show off her God given body, she can, and I’m not going to stop her, and you’re not going to stop her, and nobody is going to stop her.”

His “sures” always felt more like “I guess,” but that was just part of him.

Ivan and I definitely eyed each other then. Why the hell was she breathing like that?

My brown eyes met Ivan’s blue ones in what I figured was relief that she hadn’t been doing other shit that brothers and sisters shouldn’t know about.

I didn’t give a shit what the photographer or her staff thought… but Ivan was the only one who had the power to genuinely piss me off.

Was I that obvious? Because she was right, Ivan’s comments didn’t usually bother me. Aggravate me, yeah. Make me want to kill him, yeah. But bother? Not so much. But being naked in front of someone, especially someone like Ivan who was constantly judging with those clear blue eyes, felt like a power exchange that left me with nothing. He would know something about me so many people didn’t. And this person teased me over everything.