The Pomegranate Society

Seven: Alina Starkov

Seven:

Alina Starkov

Prince Nikolai Lantsov's apartment was a place Alina had been to multiple times in the past year. She hadn't intended on any of it. The first time she met him had been the party Genya had dragged her to. She had punched him because he'd compared her to a present waiting to be unwrapped and tried to sleep with her immediately after. Since Genya had come up with the crazy idea that Alina was destined to be the great love of her cousin's life, Nikolai had somehow wormed his way into their friend group.

About a week after the punching incident, Alina had found herself sitting alone at a restaurant in Os Alta. It was after school and she'd gone there to study and get away from Genya who hadn't been able to shut up about how she should call her cousin and give him a second chance. Alina saw a camera flash out of the corner of her eye and looked up to see Nikolai standing over her table.

There were paparazzi across the street, all trying to get their money shots of the Prince. And now her, apparently. Nikolai glanced over his shoulder, scowling. "Vultures, all of them," he muttered, and then he took a seat across from her.

Alina glowered at him. "Lantsov, I don't know what part of me punching you makes you think this is a romance but----"

He smirked. "Alina, my darling, my dearest----"

"I'm not your anything," she reminded him, "as I keep on telling you and Genya."

"Not yet," he said, "but that's only because you haven't let me romance you properly."

"And I won't," Alina said firmly.

"Fine," he said, "but you're my favorite cousins' best friend, and I'd really like for things to not be awkward between us. Because I like hanging out with Genya and I can't do that if you hate me. So, can we at least be friends?"

She sighed. "Fine. But just so you know, I'm not marrying you."

He smiled. "Of course. But you know what?"

"What?"

"Some of the best relationships started based on friendship," he smirked, "you might not like me now, Alina Starkov, but you're going to love me. You'll see."

"Fine," she said, and then she held out her hand for him to shake, "friends."

He took it and kissed the top of it instead. "Friends. With the possibility of benefits in the future. The love, and marriage, and babies."

"NIKOLAI THAT'S NOT WHAT I---"

He winked at her. "I'm only kidding, Alina."

"God, I swear if it weren't treason, I'd kill you."

"That's what makes it hotter, no? Now, what are you drinking? I'll go order you another one."

From that afternoon, Alina had found herself being reluctant friends with the Prince of Ravka. She'd been invited to family events, like Genya's birthday party and some charity thing where she'd somehow been coerced into dancing with Nikolai. She also kept on getting tagged in social media in pictures of the two of them with a hashtag called Starkolai which annoyed her to no end.

When she arrived at Nikolai's brownstone in the University District, she was unsurprised to see photographers camped out not far from there. They were always there, waiting to get the perfect shot of the prince. Alina didn't know how he managed to deal with that. Alina realized that if she agreed to date him, she'd be dealing with that too. She frowned as she stood at the front door, hesitating to go in.

Once she went in and agreed to this, there would be no going back. But there were worse things, weren't there, than dating a Prince? Didn't most little girls dream of this? Yet she was getting what most people wanted, and she stood there hesitating.

The door opened just then, and Nikolai stood there wearing a spaghetti sauce-stained white shirt with his sleeves rolled up to his forearm, a blue apron with what appeared to be the Lantsov crest on it, and there was smoke billowing from the kitchen.

"You're a girl, right?" Nikolai said.

"Last I checked, yes."

"MAKE THE KITCHEN STOP YELLING AT ME."

He grabbed her by the hand and pushed her inside, closing the door behind him. When Alina was shoved into the kitchen she wasn't certain if she was looking at dinner or a horror movie. The whole place was covered in sauce somehow, the stove appeared to be on fire, and the smoke alarm was shrieking.

Alina took a deep breath, and sighed. "You've never cooked a day in your life before, have you?"

"No, not so much," Nikolai admitted, rubbing his neck and looking at her helplessly.

"I'm going to tell you right now, for the sake of Ravka, you are never allowed to ever again."

He nodded, scratching his head. "Yep, I can see this was a bad idea, yes. The question is can you MAKE IT STOP?"

Alina sighed. "Just for the record, don't put a grease fire out with water. It will make it worse."

She took the cover of one of the pans and placed it over the smoking stove, then turned the stove top down. She turned on the fan above it to clear the smoke and grabbed the nearest sponge from the sink, soaked it, and then began to clean up the mess. Nikolai attempted to help but he somehow made it worse so she shoved him out of the kitchen. He sat at the kitchen counter, watching her the whole time.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, "most things come effortlessly to me. I thought cooking would be the same, and Genya said spaghetti was impossible to screw up but I got distracted by my phone and---"

"What could have possibly distracted you on your phone?"

He smirked and pulled up his private Instagram account. "CelebrityRavkaNews has a slideshow naming us their cutest unofficial couple. Look, remember when we danced together at my mother's charity ball? Saints, you looked ravishing. As you do tonight. Even with spaghetti sauce in your hair."

Alina winced. "What? Where?"

He reached out and pulled the strand that did indeed have the red sauce sticking to it.

She groaned. "How do you manage to make everything in my life messier? You're like a golden retriever puppy. Just chaos."

He smirked. "If I'm a puppy, that means you think I'm cute."

She scowled. "We're not discussing this."

"Right, right. That's not what tonight is about. Tonight is about getting to know each other. But do you maybe want to shower first? I've got two bathrooms, mine and the guest and we could clean up and order takeout."

Alina smiled. "I like the sound of that."

"Good," he said.

Alina stuck a spoon in the solid, burnt mess that was now the spaghetti he had tried to cook. It came out of the pot. "Just, for the record, not this. Alright?"

He laughed and nodded. "Alright, not that. Go get that shower and I'll order for us. Should be here by the time we're done."

"Two showers. How luxurious," she said with a smile, and bounded out of the kitchen down the hall to the guest bathroom she knew from her previous visits there. Saints, I could get used to this, she thought again, and once more hated herself for it.