Between two kops

Chapter seven

Christina

"Christina, sweetie! Get up," my mother's harsh voice above my head jarred me out of a deep sleep.

But I didn't react. I was miserably sleepy. I rolled onto my side and threw the pillow over my head. Just leave me alone a little longer... Just let me fall back asleep and erase Saturday from my mind. My ears were literally ringing from that fist that had flown past me and the sound of Steven's voice. What was it he said? Mommy's princess. I swear to God, I feel like strangling him the second I see him, yet on the other hand, a shudder runs through me at the mere thought of him.

"Christina, it's six o'clock! You're going to be late for school!" she wouldn't give up.

I heard the quick click clack of her heels approaching the window, and then with a single pull, she raised the blinds. Sunlight literally sliced through the darkness in the room, forcing me to wince in pain before I could even process where I was. I felt like I'd been run over by a train.

"Did you hear me?"

"Fine, fine, I'm getting up!" I muttered through my teeth and got out of bed feeling like total garbage.

I hate Mondays. And this one in particular. Just when you get used to two days off from school, sleeping in till ten, no responsibilities, no studying, then you're dragged right back into the same grind. Couldn't the weekend last at least three days? I hate school, and I hate getting up this early even more.

I glanced at the digital clock on the bedside table. s**t, 6:19 AM. I really am going to be late for school if I keep lounging around. I popped off the bed and quickly tidied it up, folding the sheet into a neat rectangle, and opened the window on tilt to let in a bit of crisp morning air.

I left the room and slammed the door shut behind me in a huff. The sound echoed through the hallway. I didn't even know why I was doing it myself. I was terribly edgy, sleep deprived, and pissed off at the whole world.

I went into the bathroom and looked at my reflection in the mirror. Honestly? I looked awful. I had spent the entire Sunday locked up at home, stewing in my own rage. My boyfriend, of course, had decided to vanish somewhere with Michael without a single word of explanation. He hadn't sent me a single text all day.

I was so furious with him that I didn't even want to go to school. I didn't want to see him. And I wanted even less to deal with Steven after that incident at the bar. That scene kept playing through my mind in flashes.

I took off my pajamas and paused for a second, staring at my bare body. Mom was right. I really had gained a bit of weight lately. How could I not, when I'm constantly eating like a pig. I'm going to kill myself, I swear. I need to lose weight asap.

I stepped under the shower and let the lukewarm water trickle down my body. I needed something to loosen up my muscles, which were still tight as guitar strings. I closed my eyes, trying to force my brain to shut off, but in vain. Water slid down my shoulders and spread across the tiles while I waged a war against my own thoughts. Warm steam quickly began to take over the bathroom, fogging up the large mirror above the sink and hiding me from my own reflection.

"Christina, hurry it up!" my mother yelled from the other side of the door, snapping my nerves all over again.

Great... I grabbed the shampoo and nervously squeezed it out onto my palm. Man, how I hate this day. It's barely started and I already want it to be over.

I quickly rinsed my hair and turned off the tap. The cold air in the bathroom hit my skin instantly, making me shiver. I wrapped myself up in a towel in a hurry and dashed outside.

I went back to my room, frantically trying to decide what to wear. I have so many clothes that I don't even know which piece goes with which mood anymore. I opened the built in closet and froze for a moment in front of a mountain of clothes hanging from hangers like in some pricey boutique. Focus, Christina. You don't have time, I kept rushing myself, while the clock on the wall ironically counted down every second of hesitation.

Under normal circumstances, I probably would have video called Nick to help me pick an outfit he likes me best in. But this time? No way in hell. He's the one who owes a call and an apology. Obviously, he couldn't care less that we haven't spoken all day, so let him wait now.

In the end, I pulled a plain white short sleeved Nike t-shirt from the pile and a pair of tight, light blue jeans that hugged my legs perfectly. I put on a pair of freshly washed white socks, and then grabbed my silver necklace off the nightstand. I don't go anywhere without it. Literally nowhere.

That necklace with a crescent moon pendant was the last gift from my grandpa before that cursed illness took him away. It remained my only true charm that I never part with. I miss my grandpa terribly... He was the only one in this house who knew how to wrap his arms around me and be there whenever I shed a tear. His silly, outdated jokes would always cheer me up, even when everything around me seemed completely gray.

I put on a bit of lip gloss and dabbed a tiny speck of concealer under my eyes, just enough to hide the dark circles that gave away how exhausted I actually was from lack of sleep and everything that happened two nights ago. I blow dried my hair and let it fall over my shoulders in soft waves. Today I was going for a simple, low key vibe, though in this house nothing was ever truly low key.

I walked down the wide staircase and instantly caught a wonderful aroma wafting from the kitchen. The smell completely took over and immediately reminded me how empty my stomach was. I strolled inside and found our cook skillfully working a frying pan, preparing something that smelled like pure luxury.

"What's cooking, Mica?" I asked my favorite cook, Milica Ivanović.

She had come all the way from Novi Sad to work for my parents, and she was literally the only person in the entire house who had that warm, human touch. I loitered around her like a hungry pup, trying to peek into the pan over her shoulder.

"Filet mignon with truffles, miss," Milica answered with a gentle, soothing smile.

"Sit at the table, Sweetie. Eat quickly and hurry up to school. The chauffeur is already waiting outside," my mother's voice materialized out of nowhere behind my back, instantly cutting off that brief moment of morning warmth with Milica.

She was rushing to her court hearing, and I was rushing to school. Sometimes, when I look in the mirror, I get scared by how much we actually resemble each other. We have the same facial features, the same external discipline. It's just that she built a terrifying coldness into her killer pace, one that I still refuse to accept. Neither she nor I had a habit of being late. At least not like today.

Darko Tošić, our exhausted butler, set the porcelain plates on the table with military precision, then stepped back a couple of paces and stood to the side, stiff as a statue. He was waiting for further instructions. My mother enjoyed keeping people in that subservient position, constantly torturing them with her ruthless demanding nature, whereas I spared them whenever I could. I would often clear the dishes myself or pour water, just so I wouldn't burden those people with their own jobs in front of an eighteen year old girl.

"Mr. Darko, would you like to sit down with us and get something to eat?" I asked him quietly.

Mr. Darko was momentarily startled, and a genuine, warm smile flashed across his face, visibly touched by my gesture. Still, he didn't dare accept. He just gave a slight shake of his head and cast a brief, fearful glance toward my mother. He knew the rules of this house far better than I did. Around here, everyone knew exactly who sat at the table and who stood beside it.

"Mom, when is Dad coming back from his trip?" I asked, trying to start any kind of normal conversation. I hadn't seen him in five days.

"Probably tomorrow. Assuming everything goes as planned at that meeting, of course."

She delivered it in her cold, businesslike tone, without looking up from her phone screen once. As if she were talking about some business partner rather than her own husband. She was always like that. With her, emotions only got a turn after all the schedules, meetings, and phone calls were dealt with.

I lowered my eyes to the plate in front of me. The filet mignon looked immaculate, plated like something out of a culinary magazine, with a truffle glaze that smelled intensely rich. I picked up my fork, cut off a small piece, and swallowed it with delight. Absolutely delicious!

Fifteen minutes later, I was standing outside the classroom door, literally gathering the courage to press the handle down. My heart was pounding at some insane rhythm, and my skin crawled at the mere thought of what was waiting for me inside.

The economics teacher is extremely strict and rigid. He won't let me in. He never lets anyone in. Once the bell signals the start of class, whoever hasn't made it through the door isn't getting in, period.

I knocked very quietly and pushed the door open.

In that instant, twenty pairs of eyes turned toward me all at once. The entire class went dead silent in utter shock. Nick most of all, sitting in the second to last row with a confused, pissed off look on his face. Nobody was used to Christina being late. I was always the perfect girl who sits at her desk before the teachers even open the attendance register.

For a second, I wanted to turn around and just leave. To close the door and pretend this Monday had never happened.

I took a deep breath and walked into the classroom with slow steps. The teacher slowly put down his pen, stood up from his chair, and approached me with a nasty, triumphant half smile on his face.

"I'm sorry I'm late, sir... Traffic was heavy."

"Step outside, young lady. And use these forty minutes to think long and hard about why you were late for my class."

"But, sir..."

"No buts, Christina! Please leave the classroom."

God, how I hated that man... he kicked me out like a dog over five f*****g minutes. He hadn't even started his lecture yet. The blackboard was spotless, the attendance book barely opened. He hadn't even had time to mark anyone absent.

My parents are going to lose their minds when they hear I got an unexcused absence. I can already picture the drama in my head. Dad's deep voice explaining to me that I'm an irresponsible brat, and Mom's words that with behavior like this, I'll just turn into another unsuccessful woman, doomed to live in misery and poverty unless I take over their firm.

I slammed the door from the outside and was left standing alone in the hallway, feeling the weight of that first unexcused absence as if someone had hung a boulder around my neck.

They had already mapped out my entire life down to the smallest detail without anyone ever asking me a single thing. All the plans stood before me like a one way street I had to walk, with no right to make a turn. To them, I was just a piece on a chessboard. Another successful investment that had no right to make her own choices.

Finish school with top marks, enroll in law school, graduate on time, and step into an armchair at Mom and Dad's law firm. That had been their sole objective from the very beginning of my existence. Never, literally never, had they asked me what I actually wanted, what my dreams were, or if I even saw myself in those stuffy suits and courtrooms of theirs.

Honestly? I don't think they ever cared in their entire lives.

I walked out into the schoolyard, which was eerily empty since everyone was already well into their classes. Everyone except one person. I caught sight of Steven Stajić sitting alone on a bench near the gate, smoking a cigarette.

He was smoking... as if unexpected, pulling every drag in almost with disgust, which was clearly visible by the squint in his eyes. He didn't look like a boy who enjoys nicotine and tries to act like a big shot, but more like someone trying to extinguish a severe fire inside himself with that smoke. Something painful and dark, I assume.

And despite everything, something magically pulled me toward him. I don't even know what the hell drove me to approach him, but my legs were leading me in that direction on their own. I simply couldn't stop myself.

I stood directly in front of him, and a barely noticeable half smile slowly curled on his face. He had such a cold, piercing gaze that made my skin crawl in a second.

He was staring at an invisible spot in front of him on the cracked concrete. Even when I sat on the bench beside him, trying to make my movements look as casual as possible, he didn't even bother to turn his head. He acted as if I were invisible. As if I hadn't shown up at all.

"He didn't let you into class either?" I said, determined to be the first to break that heavy silence hanging between us like a wall.

Only then did he turn slightly toward me, with a look on his face that was a mix of pure boredom and pissed off attitude. I swear, that guy is impossible to read. He's so damn good at hiding his own emotions that it's slowly driving me crazy.

"Retard," he said quietly, referring to the teacher.

Only from this close did I notice the huge dark circles under his eyes. He looked like he hadn't slept in days. His eyes were still red, and his gaze was heavy, as if an invisible force was pressing down on him from the inside. Except I couldn't figure out what it was for the life of me.

"Why are you poisoning yourself?" I asked him curiously, while a question was screaming in my head. What on earth am I doing here? Why am I doing this to myself? Why am I sitting on this bench with him?

He spat to the side, then locked eyes with me again.

"What the f**k do you care?" he shot back insolently, but with that strange half smile on his face. It wasn't a relaxed, genuine smile, but more of a warning that I had crossed the line.

"I mean, why with such disgust?" I pushed further.

Stubborn as always. I wasn't planning on backing down until I got a normal sentence out of him.

He was just silent for a moment. He sized me up with those dark eyes of his as if trying to judge whether I was really that brave or just stupid. We hadn't seen each other since Saturday night, since that chaos at the cafe when he saved me, and then a couple of minutes later completely drove me out of my mind. I could still feel in my fingers that slap I had landed on him in the dark of the side street. I remembered every single word he had hurled straight into my face without a shred of regret.

"I have my reasons," he muttered finally, and in a significantly more relaxed tone.

I was confused. How can someone change their mood so quickly?

"I'm just wondering why you're always so pissed off," I crossed my arms over my chest. "Especially toward me."

There was always that contempt in his eyes, even though I had done absolutely nothing wrong to him. Was the problem me, or was it in that crazy head of his? I was genuinely curious about what he had made up about me in his head to hate me right off the bat like that. Is coming from a wealthy family really such a crime to people like him?

"That's just how I am, f**k it," he answered briefly and shrugged his shoulders, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

But then a small, barely noticeable smile appeared on his face. That was the first time I had seen him smile since he set foot in this school. And I have to admit, if only to myself... it suited him far better than that perpetual street scowl.

Jesus, Christina, what are you thinking about? I bit my tongue. My boyfriend is sitting in the classroom a few meters away from here. I'd better shut up. Oopsie.

"And about two nights ago..." I started quietly, trying to find the right words to thank him properly once again for what he did, but he cut me off immediately.

"Forget about it, Christina."

How can I forget about it? What, are we just going to pretend from now on that nothing happened? I thought to myself and unconsciously rolled my eyes, which, of course, couldn't slip past him.

"Don't roll those cute little eyes at me."

I froze. Did I hear that right? Did Steven Stajić just give me a compliment, or have I completely gone mad from lack of sleep? That was something entirely unexpected from him, after everything we had said and done to each other. I wasn't sure at all if it was smart for me to be sitting here and having this conversation, and even less how to react to him looking at me that way.

"Wow, turns out you can actually be nice," I said through a half smile, trying to hide how caught off guard I really was. This was our first conversation where we weren't jumping at each other's throats.

It was as if he wasn't that same dark guy I had met on the first day. As if a completely different person was sitting beside me on this bench, with secrets I was only just beginning to want to uncover.

Steven didn't answer a thing. He just pulled another long, heavy drag from his cigarette and held it in his lungs, looking off into the distance again, as if in his head he was calculating whether it was even worth continuing this conversation of ours.