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  “Just so you know, I don’t… have feelings for you,” I say, trying not to sound weird. “I mean, you’re cool, and… nice looking…”

  Tristan looks at me, like he’s about to bust out laughing at any second.

  “I just don’t want things to be awkward,” I finish.

  “Relax. You’re a kid,” he says. “There will be zero awkwardness.”

  I ignore his kid comment. “Thanks.”

  He grins as he takes a bit of his toast.

  Yeah, I’m pretty sure Tristan was really amused with the conversation we just had.

  Ugh.

  “Don’t look so smug about it,” I say.

  He starts laughing. “Sorry. It’s just… you’re really funny sometimes. If it makes you feel any better, you’re not so bad looking for being only sixteen. When you’re my age, guys will be lining up to go out on dates with you. Not like they don’t already, but still.”

  “They don’t. The only guy that’s showed interest in me at school is Damon,” I say.

  “Not even. That Kaiden kid always drools over you. It’s kind of humors to watch. I feel bad for him. And that Asher kid is always staring at you,” Tristan says.

  “Asher Arrington?” I ask. “As in Savannah’s cousin?”

  “That’s the one,” he says. “That guy is kind of a creep though, so I wouldn’t go out with him.”

  “He’s a creep?” I ask. “How so?”

  “Just trust me on that,” he says. “The kid has a new girlfriend every other week. I personally don’t see the appeal. What is it they see in him?”

  Asher is kind of cute. But he’s weird. So I don’t see the appeal either.

  “You’re asking the wrong girl,” I say. “But if you are looking for your next girlfriend, my advice would be to loosen up. You’re always so serious. But I get to see the fun side of you. Maybe you should let other people see it too.”

  “I don’t want a girlfriend,” he says. “Besides, who says I don’t have one.”

  Huh. I hadn’t thought about that.

  “Well, you never talk about her,” I say.

  “You don’t talk about Damon that much,” he says.

  “Damon’s not my boyfriend.”

  “Yet,” he says. “He will be. In fact, he would be if you’d let him. Why are you holding back?”

  “Because I want to be his friend first.” Though I’m not sure why I’m explaining it to Tristan. He’s a boy. I don’t think he could understand. “What if I agree to date him and then find out he’s annoying?”

  “Duh, you break up with him,” he says.

  “I want my first boyfriend to be a good one,” I say. “Something special that I can tell my grandkids about one day. Or maybe I want the first guy I date to someday be my husband. I haven’t decided yet.”

  “You have to date to find out what you like.”

  “I’ll figure it out,” I say, shrugging. “Hopefully I’m better at picking out guys that my mum was.”

  Tristan chokes on his toast. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh. But that was funny.”

  “It’s funny that my mum married a terrorist?” I ask.

  “No,” he says. “Look, I’m just saying, you should date around. Just because somebody isn’t a terrorist doesn’t mean you want to spend your life with them.”

  “Thanks for the dating advice. Have you ever even had a girlfriend?” I ask.

  “I’ve date plenty of women,” he says.

  “Dated. Have you dated any of them longer than two weeks?”

  “No. But that’s because they’ve all annoyed me,” he says. “Constantly texting and calling…”

  I cut him off. “Tristan, that’s what a girl does when she likes you.”

  “Well, I guess when I find a girl who does those things but it doesn’t annoy me, I’ll know that I’ve found the right one,” he says.

  I roll my eyes and jump down from the stool.. “You’re such a guy. And if you want to find a girl, you should do it soon. All the good ones will be taken.”

  “This isn’t Russia. It’s America,” he says. “We don’t get married when we’re still teenagers here.”

  “I’m sure some do,” I say. “And what if the one you are meant to marry, marries somebody else because you were too busy dating your way through the alphabet?”

  He laughs. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I haven’t dated my way through the alphabet,” he says. “Besides, I don’t believe that there is just one person out there for everybody.”

  “I do. I believe in soul mates. Though, I don’t believe many people find theirs. But what if she’s getting tired of waiting for you? What if she decides to just marry somebody else because she thinks you’re not coming?” I ask.

  “Katerina, you’re an awesome girl. Don’t ever lose the spark that you have,” he says, not answering my question. He gets off the stool. “Leave the dishes. The maid will get them.” And then he walks out of the room.

  I’m pretty sure that was a compliment.

  I’ll take it.

  Change of plans.

  Tristan takes me shopping.

  I can tell it makes him uncomfortable to stand with me while I look at girl clothes. He can’t exactly leave me to do it alone, so I try to hurry.

  “How many changes do you think I need?” I ask.

  “Maybe five days, just to be safe. You can always do laundry if it’s not enough,” he says. “You wouldn’t even have to do it. The maid will wash anything you leave in the hamper.”

  Tristan’s phone starts ringing. I figure it’s somebody updating him on Damon.

  I so wish I could talk to Damon.

  “Hello,” he answers, and then listens to somebody on the other end for a second. He holds out his phone. “It’s for you.”

  I get excited.

  Yay! Damon!

  “Hey, Damon. Oh my goodness, I miss you,” I tell him.

  “Who is Damon?” I hear my father speak back.

  “Dad?” I ask, feeling confused. “Why are you calling Tristan’s phone?”

  “I tried calling you but couldn’t get through. The school said I could call you on this number. Who is Tristan?” Dad asks. “Katerina, I hope you’re not dating. I didn’t send you to America so you could date American boys.”

  “Don’t worry, Dad. American boys are weird,” I tell him. “Tristan and Damon are my… friends.”

  Tristan gives me a thumbs up.

  “Though, I might bring Tristan home with me for Christmas,” I say. “I think you’ll like him. He’s kind of cute. For an American.”

  He rolls his eyes.

  “Katerina, that’s not funny. Do you want me to have a heart attack because I’m worried about you?”

  “Of course not, Daddy,” I say. “What’s up?”

  “I just wanted to check on you. I know there was an explosion at your school,” he says.

  Crap.

  What do I say? I can’t exactly deny it.

  “Yeah, about that. The president’s son is kind of my best friend,” I say, leaving out the dating part. I’m supposed to be dating Tristan at Christmas, so I can’t tell him that part. “And they think he was a target. So they kind of took me to a secure location away from the school until they catch the person. Was is Kazimir?”

  Tristan gives me a panicked look. Apparently I wasn’t supposed to say anything about that.

  “I’m afraid so,” he says. “The president’s son is your friend, huh?”

  “Yes,” I answer.

  “That’s cool,” he says. “Look, I am coming to America. Is there anyway you can get back to your school? I have a plan to catch Kazimir, but I need your help.”

  “Um… maybe,” I say. “I’ll have to ask. But are you sure you want to do that? He seems really dangerous. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  “I’ll be fine, Katerina. Don’t worry about me,” he says. “Can I reach you on this number again?”

  “Yeah,” I answer. “That won’t b
e a problem.”

  “Good,” he says. “I will see you soon.”

  “See you soon,” I say, as the line goes dead.

  Tristan’s eyes get big.

  “What do you mean by see you soon?” he asks.

  “Change of plans,” I say, smiling.

  I really hope I didn’t just do something bad.

  “What?” he asks.

  “My dad wants to meet me at the school,” I answer. “I mean, we know he’s in America already, but he told me he’s leaving for America. And he says he has a plan to catch Kazimir.”

  “Okay,” he says. “But we need a plan first.”

  “Sure. Yeah. That’s probably a good idea,” I say. “What’s the plan.”

  “I don’t know yet. But we will figure it out on the way back,” he says, grabbing my hand. “Come on, Katerina. It’s going to be a long drive.”

  Ugh.

  Not another long car ride.

  Shattered heart.

  We get back to New Hope really late, but Tristan doesn’t let me take off my wig. We get a hotel room and sleep away from campus. He tells me we aren’t going to campus until I hear from my dad.

  We have a plan—sort of.

  I thought the plan would be to get my dad while he’s here, but Tristan says that’s a bad idea. If my dad gets arrested, it will just cause more problems than we’re ready for. So, for the time being, we have to be happy capturing Kazimir. I think now Tristan is convinced that my dad won’t hurt me, but he’s not taking any chances. In fact, he refuses to leave my side. For some reason, right now I don’t mind. After everything that has happened, I’m a little scared to be alone.

  “Does Damon know?” I ask Tristan, as I lay in bed that night. “That we’re going back? About my dad?”

  “No,” Tristan answers. “I didn’t figure you’d want me to tell him.”

  “I don’t,” I say. “I’m glad he’s safe.”

  “Very safe. He’s not even in the country,” he says. “If we get all this over soon enough, Damon could make it back in time for homecoming dance.”

  “That would be nice,” I say, not able to stop the smile.

  I want to dress pretty, dance all night with my future boyfriend, and just pretend like everything is normal. That sounds pretty perfect right now.

  America is growing on me.

  Maybe not so much the food, but the people are.

  “I got permission for you to call Damon. If you want to talk to him,” Tristan says, nodding to his phone on the nightstand between our two beds. “You should call him. I think it would make you feel better.”

  I get up and grab the phone. “I’m going to talk to him in the bathroom. For privacy.”

  “Okay,” he says.

  Once I’m in the bathroom, I shut the door and sit on the edge of the tub. I dial Damon’s number. It rings twice before he picks up.

  “Please tell me this is Katerina,” he says, answering the phone.

  “It is so good to hear your voice,” I tell him, realizing just how much I missed him.

  “I miss you, like, ridiculous amounts.”

  “Ditto,” I say, using a phrase I heard from Savannah. Maybe my speech is becoming more American-like.

  “I want to kiss you,” he tells me.

  “Why?” I ask, feeling a little stunned.

  He is quiet for a few seconds. I pull the phone away to make sure he’s still there. He is.

  “I’m attracted to you, Katerina,” he finally answers. “And, to be honest, I’ve thought about kissing you for a long time now. But I don’t want to push you into something that you’re not ready for.”

  “It’s not that,” I say. “I just… haven’t kissed anybody before. And you’re not my boyfriend yet. I just don’t want to kiss somebody who isn’t my boyfriend. At least not the first time. I want it to be special… romantic.”

  “Maybe we should be officially boyfriend/ girlfriend,” he says.

  “Damon Hartley, I know you did not just ask me to be your girlfriend over the phone,” I say. “You get your butt back to America and ask me in person. Until then, I am going to have to decline.”

  “Does that mean that when I see you again, you would say yes?” he asks.

  “Maybe.”

  “Just do me a favor and don’t fall in love with anybody else while I’m gone,” he says.

  “Who says I’m in love with you. I told you I’m falling in like. There is a huge difference between love and like,” I say.

  “Still, I’m one step closer,” he says. I can hear his grin when he speaks, making me miss him even more. “I’m hoping by this time Saturday night, I’ll be holding my girlfriend in my arms.”

  “If I’m going to date you, you’re going to have to buy me chocolate. And not American chocolate either. Yuck,” I say, remembering the bite I had of Savannah’s candy bar. “I want the good stuff. From Switzerland. Or Germany.”

  “Okay,” he says. “That I can do. I’ll also tell you ten times a day how beautiful you are.”

  I laugh. “You don’t want me to be arrogant, do you?”

  “Of course not,” he says. “But I do want you to be confident and know how much I care about you.”

  “Smooth,” I say. “I bet you say that to all the ladies.”

  “Only you. I can’t get you out of my head.”

  “Should I apologize?” I ask, knowing that Americans like to apologize—for everything.

  “No,” he says quickly. “I kind of like you being in my head. I just wish you were here with me now. I miss you so bad that I can hardly stand it.”

  “Soon,” I promise.

  Because I know something that you don’t.

  “Not soon enough,” he says.

  Damon and I end up talking on the phone for an hour before we have to get off. I’m exhausted, but I really could’ve talked to him all night long.

  I remember all the days Dimitri would wake up looking exhausted, but he would always have a huge smile on his face. Him and Elana spent a lot of late nights on the phone. I never understood how somebody could be worth foregoing sleep. But now I do understand.

  Damon is smart, funny and very gorgeous. The best part about it all is that he likes me back—maybe even loves me. It scares me to think about the “love” part. But someday, I could imagine falling in love with him. There are definitely worse people to fall in love with.

  I think about Tristan and wonder what kind of boyfriend he would be.

  But then I remember he’s never been in a relationship longer than two weeks.

  He’s the kind of guy you would fall madly in love with only to have your heart shattered.

  I’m glad Damon won’t be breaking my heart any time soon.

  SEVEN

  Save me.

  “Dad,” I say, shocked that he is, in fact, standing in at the door of my hotel room.

  I panic slightly, because Tristan is in the shower. I’m also relieved he’s in there. My dad would most definitely get the wrong idea if he saw that I was in a hotel room alone with a boy. Especially an American boy.

  Of course that is the time that Tristan decides to walk out of the bathroom.

  “Showers free,” he says to me.

  Then I hear my dad do something he’s never done in front of me before. He cusses at Tristan—in Russian.

  He pushes past me towards Tristan and Tristan goes into defensive mode.

  “She’s my daughter,” he says, mixing English with Russian.

  Tristan blocks each punch my dad swings at him.

  “I think there is a misunderstanding,” Tristan says. “Umm… nedorazumeniye.”

  Dad stops swinging punches, but he still looks angry. “Profolzhat.” Continue, my dad says.

  “I didn’t feel safe at school,” I tell my dad. “Tristan is just a friend. We slept in different beds. See.”

  He looks over and sees both beds have been slept in.

  “I don’t like it,” Dad says, his Russian accent heavy. He lo
oks at Tristan. “And I don’t like you. You look too old for my daughter.”

  “Dad, he’s a senior,” I say, not technically lying. He is enrolled as a senior at New Hope Academy. “Only one grade higher than me. But it doesn’t matter, we are just friends, like I said. And Tristan is a complete gentleman.”

  Dad curses again. “He’s American.”

  “Dad, stop saying bad words,” I say to him. “You’ll get fined.”

  “This is America. You don’t get fines for saying cuss words here,” Dad says to me, then looks at Tristan. “This is why my daughter can’t date American boy. She’s a good kid. But very sheltered. I want to keep that way.”

  I forgot how broken my dad’s English can be. It seems like he’d have it down by now, after being married to my mum almost twenty three years. But now that I think about it, he has been gone a lot.

  Too much.

  “Trust me, I’m the last guy you’d have to worry about your daughter dating,” Tristan says.

  Did he have to say it like that? Ouch.

  “What? You don’t think she’s good enough for you?” Dad asks, looking mad.

  “It’s not that. It’s just…” Tristan looks at me for help.

  “Dad, enough with the third degree. Tristan is my friend. A good friend,” I say. “Please don’t scare him off.”

  “Okay, okay,” Dad says, then looks at Tristan. “She’s my baby girl. My only girl. You treat her good or I kill you.”

  Tristan doesn’t laugh or smile. Probably because he knows my dad could follow through on the threat. “I will treat her like I do my own sister.”

  Sister?

  Tristan has a sister?

  There is so much I still have to learn about him.

  “So, what is your plan?” I ask. “To catch Kazimir.”

  “You…” Dad pauses, as if to search for the right word. “Primanka.”

  Bait.

  He wants me to be bait.

  “What does primanka mean?” Tristan asks.

  “Bait,” I answer.

  “Not happening,” Tristan says, pulling me behind him. “Ne proiskhodit,” he repeats in Russia for my dad.