When We Were Young

Nineteen:

Nineteen:

There were times that Aleksander loved football. There were times that Aleksander hated it, and he never wanted anything to do with the sport ever again. That came when there was a particularly rough practice, and his whole body ached. He made his way up the front steps of the frat house and was greeted by a grinning Nikolai. "Is there something that you want to tell me?" Nikolai asked, waggling his eyebrows. "Because there has been a development that I got slapped for today. A very, very interesting development that I never expected to happen unless hell froze over."

Aleksander scratched his head. "Nikolai, what the hell are you talking about?"

"Maybe I better just show you. I don't know if I believe it myself. It's a goddamned miracle, that's what it is."

"Are you high?" Aleksander said. "Did you buy shit from Professor Botkin again? I told you not to trust that hippy. He uses LSD in his crap and that's why it always fucks you up so bad. Use that freshman that I told you about. Good quality shit, and you won't act like you're Lucy in The Sky With Diamonds."

Nikolai snorted. "I'm not high. I have to visit my family this week. Dad can smell pot if I've had it for a month."

"That's impossible."

"Yeah, well. You haven't met my dad. Come on. Let me show you that miracle I'm talking about."

Nikolai led Aleksander up the stairs to his room, and he knocked on the door. "Okay if I come in?" Nikolai said.

"Sure," a familiar voice muttered that made Aleksander freeze.

"Shit," he muttered, "you cannot be serious. That is not the person that I think that it is. Why's she here? She would never come here. Lantsov, what the hell did you do?"

Nikolai scoffed. "Please. I did nothing. I'm a bastard, but I'm not that kind of bastard."

Aleksander took a deep breath. "Okay. Okay." He ran his hand through his hair. "This is happening. This has happened. Why the fuck am I freaking out? I shouldn't be freaking out. It's one fucking girl. One girl. Lantsov, what the hell do I do? This is good but it is also very, very bad. This is a real The Princess Bride situation."

"How does that reference apply to this, exactly?"

"Which cup do I choose?" he explained.

"The one that has the sweet as hell wine in it," Nikolai told him, "and you take that drink, and you down it."

"That's not----" Aleksander shook his head. "Never mind."

Aleksander took a deep breath, and he reached out to open the door. To his complete and utter shock, Alina was curled up in a ball on his bed. Worse, she was curled up in a ball on his bed and crying her little heart out. Aleksander didn't know what it was about, but he had a strong suspicion that it had something to do with Oretsev. Aleksander clenched his fists that were shaking with anger.

"What happened?" he whispered.

Nikolai shrugged. "I don't know. She came here upset, and I told her Mal said she couldn't be here because you know his thing about that. She slapped me and said that Mal didn't control her life, and then she stormed up and locked herself in her room and she's been in there listening to the same sad song over and over for about two hours."

"Two hours?" Aleksander hissed.

Nikolai nodded. "Two hours. I smell Oretsev all over this. You know how she is about him."

Aleksander clenched his jaw. "I am going to kill him."

"You can't kill him."

"Why not? Hurting his best friend seems like a good reason to kill someone."

"It's illegal, and you're too pretty. You wouldn't survive in jail."

Aleksander glanced at Nikolai. "You think I'm pretty?"

Nikolai smirked. "Almost as pretty as I am, but don't get distracted, peacock. There's a crying girl on your bed and you've got to do something to cheer her up. I tried, but I just got a stony silence. I think she was waiting for someone with jet black hair and grey eyes to come back."

"Right," said Aleksander, "crying girl on my bed. This is new territory. I am not the one girls cry to. I am the one that girls cry about. Pray for me, Lantsov. I'm going in."

"Saints be with you, Morozova." Nikolai patted him on the back. "Into The Fold."

"Right." Aleksander slipped into his room, and he closed the door behind him. "Starkov, everything okay?"

Alina was curled up in a little ball, clutching her phone and listening to music. There was a sad, slow song on repeat that Aleksander couldn't quite make out. Alina sat up and took out her earbuds. "Hey," she croaked, "I'm sorry I crashed on your bed. But I didn't want to go back to my dorm, because Genya would have asked questions and I just...I don't know."

He walked over to his bed, and he sat down next to the empty space next to her. "What happened?" he asked. "Nobody hurt you or anything, did they?"

She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "Yes. No. I mean...not like you are thinking. I had a fight with Mal. And I don't think...I don't think that I am going to be friends with him anymore."

"What was the fight about?" Aleksander said.

"Genya told me something about you, and um...I asked Mal about it, and it turned out that it was true, and I decided that I couldn't be friends with someone that was that cruel to someone, whatever their history was. So, I don't know that I can be friends with him right now."

"What about his parents?"

She shrugged. "Hopefully that won't change anything. His mom and me have always been close, and I don't think they'd do anything cruel like take that away."

"Right," he said, "well...I'm sorry. Uh. So Genya told you about Zoya, huh?"

"Yeah," said Alina, "yeah."