Between two kops

Chapter nine

Christina

I sat at the massive dining table, absentmindedly spinning my fork between my fingers, while my mom went over the same boring numbers with my dad on a video call for who knows what time in a row. His face, framed by the expensive hotel interior somewhere on the other side of Europe, glowed from the screen of her iPad resting against a crystal vase. To them, those numbers were everything, both air and God. To me? To me, they were just another invisible fence around a life I never even chose.

Their words passed right by my ears, making zero sense. Market, stocks, logistics, profit... the same vicious cycle. Their voices turned into background noise that kept pulling me further and further away from reality by the second. I looked through the window into the dark, looking for any mental escape from this boring conversation, but there was no saving me. Bummer.

"Christina, what do you think about this proposal?" my mom's sharp voice suddenly sliced through the silence in my head.

I snapped out of it and looked up, realizing that both pairs of eyes. My mom's in person and my dad's through the screen, were locking onto me with that same cold expectation. Of course, I didn't have a clue what they'd actually been talking about for the past half hour.

"I don't know," I shrugged, completely unbothered.

"What's going on with you, sweetie? You've been totally out of it lately," my dad chimed in from the tablet speaker, his artificial voice trying to sound concerned. But there wasn't a single trace of real fatherly warmth in that tone. Just pure control wrapped in diplomatic concern.

How was I even supposed to explain to him that their perfect, calculated life was suffocating me more than any bad grade or wrong choice ever could? That everything they proudly called life security felt like a prison with thick, gold bars?

"Christina?" my mom repeated, considerably sharper this time.

I opened my mouth to say whatever just to get them off my back, but at the last second, I was saved by the doorbell. The sharp, piercing sound literally cut through the tense silence in the dining room. Almost grateful to whoever was standing outside, I jumped up from my chair, craving nothing more than to run as far away from that table as possible.

"I'll get it."

"Who is that at this hour?" my dad grumbled from the screen while a waiter in the background brought his dinner in the hotel room.

I was already halfway down the hallway, ignoring my mom's displeased look. Naturally, she didn't like that I got up from dinner without asking, and she liked it even less when I did things myself, off script.

As if sitting at the table lined up like a straight line was part of some perfect family picture we had to maintain at all costs in front of the world and the house staff.

As if in this house, absolutely everything had to go through innocent people. Through people who were paid to clean, bring, clear away... and do everything that, according to my mom's tight laced rules, I shouldn't even touch. Well, sometimes I'm really f*****g sick of their pretentious act.

Just as I stepped toward the entrance, Milica, our housekeeper and cook, appeared around the corner, quickening her pace to do her duty. But this time I was faster, and I simply enjoyed that small triumph.

"It's okay, Milica, I'll get it," I tossed over my shoulder with a brief smile.

The woman instantly backed into the hallway, and I pressed the door handle and pulled the door open.

Outside, in the shadow of the streetlights, I found his bulky silhouette. He was standing just the way only he could. Legs slightly apart, hands in his pockets, as if holding the whole world on those strong shoulders of his. Nick Petrović.

He just popped up like that in the middle of the night, unannounced. And realistically, just a few hours ago we had a massive blowout and put our relationship on pause. For a second I was happy to see him, but in the next, that same rage from this morning washed over me all over again.

"Nick... What are you doing here?" I muttered quietly, trying to make my voice sound as cold as possible.

"Can I come in? Please," he said, his voice unusually quiet, soft, and somehow... vulnerable.

I paused for a second, locking eyes with him. I desperately searched his green eyes for what I was used to seeing in him. Rage, nervousness, any toxic spark that would give me a perfect excuse to slam the door in his face. But tonight, there was none of that. He looked completely calm.

"I really don't think that's a good idea, Nick."

I crossed my arms over my chest, acting untouched. "I already told you at school that we need a break."

"I know. I won't stay long, I promise," he added softly, not taking his eyes off my face.

He seemed unbelievably calm. Honestly, strange for him. Way too calm for a guy who was screaming at me in front of the whole school a few hours ago, making unnecessary scenes. I took a deep breath, wrestled with myself inside, and then slowly pushed the door open just enough for him to pass through.

"Come in. But you only have five minutes."

His brown hair, slightly wavy and tousled by the wind fell across his forehead, accentuating his sharp, masculine features even more. His green eyes, usually so cold, brazen, and hard, were somehow softer now, almost completely melted. He was looking at me the way he hadn't looked at me in a long, damn long time.

And that, completely against my will and despite all the rage I was feeling, disarmed me in a split second. I took a step back, and he walked in, stepped closer, and wrapped his arms around me without a word. Instinctively, I froze for a second, my pride screaming at me to shove him away... But then I gave in anyway and rested my head against his chest.

I caught the familiar scent of his jacket. That well known mix of tobacco and cologne, cold night air, and something totally specific that smelled like him and only him. A scent far too deeply embedded under my skin for me to just ignore like that.

I grabbed him by the hand and quickly pulled him along toward the marble staircase leading upstairs, straight to my room. My fortress. The only place in this huge mansion where I could actually breathe normally and just be myself, far away from Mom's eyes and Dad's endless control.

"Where are you two off to?"

Out of nowhere, right from the edge of the hallway, Mom materialized. Naturally. That woman literally had a radar for showing up at the absolute worst possible moment. Her gaze slid slowly over Nick sharp, analytical, and coldly evaluating, as if she already knew the answer to every boring question she was planning to ask.

"Good evening, Marina," Nick transformed instantly.

He let go of my hand, straightened up, and stepped toward her with his charming, diplomatic smile to greet her.

"Good evening, young man. How is your mother?" Mom asked, adjusting the bracelet on her wrist.

"She's doing well, thank you for asking. She sends her best. She's constantly at the factory dealing with some new contracts, so she literally can't make it anywhere, otherwise she'd definitely drop by to visit."

Nick always knew how to play his cards around my parents. Polite enough to leave a good impression, but never completely tame. There was always something dangerous and sharp smoldering inside him, something no amount of etiquette could ever tame. He thought faster than anyone, talked even faster, and always, always, managed to wriggle his way out of any mess. And yet... toward me, he could be unbelievably gentle. And I guess that crazy mix of his was what pulled me toward him the most.

"Yeah, awesome, you shook hands. Now we really have to head upstairs," I muttered through my teeth, rolling my eyes and shooting Nick a clear look to get out of there with me before Mom dragged us into some deeper analysis of hers.

"Won't you join us for dinner? Nick must be hungry after practice," Mom's voice sounded more like a command than a polite offer.

"We'll order pizza if we get hungry, Mom. I have a math test tomorrow, and Nick came over to help me with some problems," I blurted out the first thing that crossed my mind. A lie, obviously, but good enough to do the trick.

I couldn't stand another dinner listening to their boring conversations about business, stock markets, and people I don't even know. And I could stand it even less having Nick sit at that table playing the nice guest as part of all that.

"Right, Nick?" I asked him, glaring at him in hopes he'd back me up even though I'd made the whole thing up on the spot.

"Yeah, that's right," he jumped in smoothly, without missing a beat.

"I promised Christina I'd help her wrap her head around those problems. Math comes easy to me, family genes."

That was apparently convincing enough for my dear mother, since business and education were sacred to her. She nodded in defeat, clearing the way for us, and finally let us go upstairs.

The second we stepped into my room, I closed the door behind us, locked it, and finally breathed in normal air.

"What math... I couldn't wait to escape that dining room," I muttered with a relieved smile, throwing myself exhausted onto my large, black and white themed bed.

My eyes fell on Nick immediately. He chuckled softly, pulled off his jacket, tossed it onto the armchair, and leaned casually against the wooden bedframe like it was the most natural spot on earth for him. His tight black t-shirt with the Grobari logo, literally glued to his body, highlighted every chiseled line of his muscles. Besides school and Partizan, the gym was definitely his second home. You could tell just by looking at him. In every move he made, the way he stood, how he breathed, and how he looked at me.

"I gotta hand it to you... You played her really well this time," he teased me, his gaze sliding down my body significantly slower than it should have.

"Though, realistically, math was never your strong suit."

"Ha ha, real funny, Petrović. I'm gonna beat your ass," I replied, rolling my eyes and playing offended, even though I was well aware he was a hundred percent right.

"What's with the dangerous threats now?" he raised an eyebrow with his signature half smile that always balanced somewhere between a casual joke and pure provocation.

"You'd better not find out, Nick," I kept playing his game, knowing that my attitude actually turned him on and bugged him more than he was willing to admit.

"Guess I'll just have to test my luck after all," he muttered, his voice dropping significantly lower.

He dropped his gaze to my lips and stepped closer to me with slow, feline movements. He sat on the edge of the bed right beside me, close enough that our knees touched through our clothes. Instantly, I felt that familiar, heavy heat of his. The kind that always throws me off balance and messes with my breathing in a split second. His large hand slid over my shoulder, then slowly, millimeter by millimeter, glided down my back all the way to my waist, leaving behind a trail of shivers I couldn't ignore if I tried.

For a second, I closed my eyes helplessly. Damn him, he knows exactly where to touch me.

Only then did the alarm go off in my head. I snapped out of it, came to my senses, and abruptly cut things short before it was too late.

"Nick... Don't," I said, quieter than I'd planned, then quickly got up off the bed and took two big steps back.

Man, I can't just brush everything under the rug like that. Up until a few hours ago, he was practically crucifying me and painting me out to be a slut in front of the whole school over a simple chat on a bench, and now he's touching me like absolutely nothing happened. It's not fair. And it's not normal at all. Worst of all, I'm damn well aware that I'd forgive him everything all over again, if I just let him get a little closer to me.

"Sorry, I thought..." he trailed off mid sentence, then shook his head and clenched his jaw. "Forget it."

"No, say what you thought," blurted out of me before I could bite my tongue.

He looked up at me, sizing me up with his eyes for a couple of seconds as if evaluating whether this drama was even worth continuing, then dropped his gaze back to the floor.

"Nothing... It doesn't matter."

Of course it matters. With him, everything is always "it doesn't matter" until it escalates into a huge problem.

His gaze then slowly drifted around my room. It passed over the walls we had literally decorated together over the course of this past year. Supporters' stickers, black and white trinkets we'd put up purely for the hell of it, and that huge, hand painted Partizan crest that took up almost half the wall. Too many memories in such a small space.

At one point, his eyes stopped on a framed photo on the shelf. The South Stand. He was standing beside me with a black and white scarf raised high, grinning from ear to ear, as if that were his only and most important moment in the world. And me right next to him, wrapped in his arms and head over heels in love. In that picture, we really looked... Happy. Genuinely, purely happy.

"Remember that day?" he asked out of nowhere, considerably quieter and softer than before.

How on earth could I forget that? That was the day we had our first real kiss and finally made our relationship official. As I looked at him, a movie instantly started playing in my head, rewinding me back to that moment.

It was his birthday. And I... Like the biggest i***t on earth, I'd managed to forget to buy him a gift. Total disaster. I remember panicking all day, frantically coming up with any excuse at the last minute just so I wouldn't look like the worst, most heartless girlfriend on the planet. And then, when we found ourselves in that crowd on the stands, I simply grabbed him by the collar of his polo shirt and kissed him.

Stupid, sudden, completely unplanned. As a gift. But actually... It was the best possible start to everything. Our falling in love and our journey together.

That single kiss changed absolutely everything between us. From that day on, everything became way more intense, crazier. I was... Well, happier than ever before. And the South Stand was no longer just a regular spot in the stadium for us. It became our own personal stage.

"How could I forget?" I said much quieter, with a soft smile that, despite all my effort and pride, I couldn't hide at all.

"The day we finally kissed... And ended that stupid, months long torture of ours once and for all."

I looked him straight in the eyes, and images kept flashing before me on their own. Deafening chants, lit flares, black and white smoke, the roar of the crowd... And him in the center of it all. My Nick.

Nick went silent for a second, watching me as if trying to read something on my face that even I didn't fully understand.

"True," he spoke slowly, the corner of his lips turning up slightly.

"We dragged our feet for too long and forced that stupid distance. But still, the main thing is that everything turned out just the way it was supposed to in the end. Right, Christina?"

"That's right, Nick. I'm really glad it ended up like that."

After my words, a sudden silence fell over the room. That heavy, uncomfortable silence that always lingers in the air when too much has been said out loud, and even more has been deliberately left unsaid. Predictably, Nick was the first to shift his gaze toward the window. Classic Nick. Always mentally checking out and looking away the second a conversation gets too serious and important between us.

"I'm throwing a party tomorrow," he shot out, out of nowhere, completely switching his tone, as if changing the subject with zero weight or importance.

I looked at him suspiciously, slightly narrowing my eyes. "What kind of party?"

"On my dad's boat. It'll just be Michael, Nadia, and a couple of guys from the stands. Nothing crazy, just a chill vibe," he shrugged, but I saw right through that look in his eyes. The look burning with a desire to fix things.

"And?" I raised an eyebrow, playing unbothered.

"Come, Christina," he said briefly, sizing me up with his eyes.

"Why? I turned you down two seconds ago," I asked colder than I'd planned.

"Because I want you to be there. Without you, it's not it."

I felt a mix of rage, wounded pride, and... something else entirely slowly brewing in my stomach some old habit I had zero desire to publicly admit to at that moment. I dropped my gaze to the floor, pretending to be deep in thought, weighing my options.

"I get that you want us to take a break," he continued, his voice dropping low again.

"And I know I crossed the line. Just... come to the party. I promise I won't come up to you or bug you unless you actually want me to."

He got up off the bed as if he physically couldn't handle sitting in one place anymore. That famous restlessness of his was slowly but surely giving him away, even though he was trying every trick to seem relaxed and collected. His fingers were subconsiously, rapidly tapping against his thigh in that rhythm I already knew all too well.

Maybe I really did go a little too far, too? Not about everything, obviously... but with certain words, definitely. I know exactly how he is. Stubborn to a fault, jealous, sometimes completely unbearable and toxic. But... he's not a bad guy. Deep down, he was never truly bad to me. It's just, s**t, he doesn't know any other way to show he cares. And realistically, I'm no better than him. I always push my stubbornness to the bitter end. Always pulling and tightening the rope until it completely snaps.

I stared down at my own hands, torn up inside. Maybe we really do desperately need a break... but maybe we shouldn't execute it through stupid fights and childish spite.

And right in that uncomfortable moment, the phone next to my hand vibrated loudly on the bed, lighting up the screen in the middle of the dimly lit room. I looked down and paled in a split second from shock when I read the notification.

"Steven Stajić accepted your follow request. Steven Stajić sent you a follow request."

Fuck. As if the entire universe had conspired against me, setting up this exact timing just to throw me completely off my game. Nick was still watching me silently, waiting for any answer to leave my lips, completely oblivious to the absolute horror unfolding on my phone screen.

"Did something happen?" he asked.

"No, no. Everything's great. Nadia's just sending me some reels."

"So, are you coming?"

"I'll come, Nick..." I finally caved, averting my gaze from the phone.

"But that absolutely does not mean everything between us is okay. Got it?"

He gave a brief nod.

"Alright. See you tomorrow at school then." He paused for a second as if he wanted to add something else, but dropped it.

"I won't keep you any longer. Bye, Christina."

This time we didn't even hug. Didn't even try. He just turned his back and walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him without making a sound. And I was left standing in the exact same spot. Frozen, hollow. What the hell am I doing?

Giving in to Nick all over again... while getting more and more tangled up with Steven at the exact same time. Two completely different stories. Two completely different worlds. And me right in the middle, incapable of cutting the cord. Ugh, shoot me now.