Page 45 of Jump on Three
Never me.
Not that I had a crush.
This was black and white.
Ivan was off-limits.
Jump. Just jump.
But…we could be friends, and in order to do that, I had to catch him at his own game.
So, I cleaned up room three and did my and Layla’s homework. Layla hadn’t demanded I do her little sister’s again. It had been simple enough, but the time it had taken to complete was better spent elsewhere.
Like, for instance, knitting a brown-and-gold scarf in California and watching YouTube videos about music festivals.
People touched each other a lot at them. Girls painted their bodies and wore pasties on their nipples. Everyone was smiling, though I suspected that was partly due to all the drugs.
I thought I might like MDMA. Then I could touch and smile and dance and not worry about the crowd and lights and being so out of control I couldn’t breathe.
We still had plenty of time before the festival, and I wasn’t certain I’d be able to actually bring myself to go anyway, but I wanted to be prepared, just in case.
Jump. Just jump.
I packed up my backpack and took out my phone, smiling at the text waiting for me.
Squatter: How is room 3 today? Not too messy for you, I hope.
Me: It’s just the right amount of messy. I’m learning to love crumbs sticking to my forearms. It’s a delightful feeling.
Squatter: You’re in a good mood today. I wonder if you’d be so cheerful if you were in room 1 freezing your balls off.
Me: Since I have no balls, I guess we’ll never know. But it’s fortunate you’re in that room and not me. My Mediterranean genes cannot handle cold.
Squatter: Ah, I cannot use that excuse. It isn’t fair. I didn’t ask to be born on top of a glacier.
Me: Which one? Lednik Chernysheva perhaps? Or was it Novaya Zemlya?
There, I’d said it. I’d jumped and named Russian glaciers. Now, the ball was in his court to call me on it.
I waited, twisting the hem of my skirt around my hand and rocking, too nervous and filled with anticipation to try to sit still.
One minute passed, then two, and my phone stayed silent. Either he didn’t get it or only wanted to play this game when it was anonymous.
Either way, my stomach was quickly sinking with disappointment. I could have continued pretending I didn’t know it was Ivan on the other end of the texts, but—
Someone knocked on the door.
I stared, blinking rapidly. My stomach reversed course, knotting into a tight ball. That had to be him. No one else would be knocking. Until Ivan, I was the only one who had used these study rooms.
I’d wanted this, right? I should have been getting up and opening the door…but I couldn’t seem to move.
Jump. Just jump.
My phone vibrated. Ivan’s text lit up the screen.
Squatter: Open the door, angel.
Black spots appeared in my vision. Why was I so nervous? It was just Ivan. I saw him daily. He ate most meals beside me. We swam together, walked to class together—