City After Dark

Chapter 3

Sitting near the balcony at a table by himself, the man looked over to Nathan and I and waved. He ran his hand through his black curls. His stubble, though neatly trimmed, only served the gruff, dark energy he had about him. I couldn't believe my eyes. It was Andrey. It had been literally ten years since I saw him last. I was far from the anxious, crushing teenager I was then, but that didn't mean I was looking forward to drinking with him. His family had moved into our neighborhood when I was seven and Nathan was eleven. He and my brother immediately hit it off, and they were thicker than thieves until Nathan left to go to college in California. When Andrey graduated two years after Nathan, he left for college too. I don't think I got over him until a year after he was gone.

"You look excited to see him," Nate whispered sarcastically.

"Of course I'm not," I whispered back, "Why the fuck-"

"Andrey!" Nate exclaimed as we neared the table, cutting me off. Andrey stood to greet us. He was wearing a sleeveless shirt that read "Hall and Oates" and stopped just above his naval. His arms rippled with muscle as he clasped Nathan's hand and pulled him in for a hug.

"It's great to see you," Nathan said.

"Radvam se da te vidya, priyatelyu" Andrey replied. He turned to me, a lopsided grin on his face.

"Malkata Dede e porasnala." I recognized my nickname in the sentence, but nothing else.

"I don't speak Bulgarian," I said, and I moved past Nathan to take a seat. "And you know my name isn't Cassandra." Andrey looked at Nathan and I.

"She's still got the temper." Nathan sat beside me so that both of us were facing Andrey.

"Worse," I said. "It's gotten worse. So keep that in mind." Andrey's head fell back slightly as he laughed, and I watched, mesmerized at the way his Adam's apple moved in his throat, the sharpness of his canines, and the way his eyes crinkled in mirth. I felt myself blush. I was not supposed to be paying so much attention to the asshole who knew I loved him all of high school and still insisted on bringing a new girl over to my house every day. I stood back up.

"We need drinks," I said.

"Yes," Andrey agreed, "And food. I'm famished." We all stood and made our way over to the bar. Both Nathan and Andrey were to the right of me. I lagged behind and allowed myself furtive glances at Andrey. Every long stride revealed his naval and the dark trail of hair leading down, the rest hidden by the jeans hugging his hips. The man had only gotten sexier, damn him.

"This line is ridiculous," Nathan said as we stepped into it. I looked pointedly away from Andrey and studied the menu options.

"It's Toronto," I sighed, "What else can you expect?"

"This is true," Andrey said. "I've only been here twice and each time I am astounded by how busy it is." Nate punched Andrey playfully on the arm.

"Coming from the guy who lived in New York half his life."

"The suburbs," Andrey interrupted.

"Same difference. Hey," Nate said excitedly, "Tell us about Bulgaria man. How was it?"

"Ach," Andrey waved a hand in dismissal. "The weather in Bulgaria is always the same: the summer was too hot and the winter was too cold."

"Why did you go?" I asked. He turned his gray eyes to me, and I tried not to bristle. He had a way of holding your gaze, as if he knew exactly the effect he had on you, that was difficult not to flounder under.

"My Mama fell sick," he said. "I sent her medication and money but she insisted she was going to die within the year. So I went to see her before she died."