I was just about to step out of the car when I noticed Denis standing by the entrance. Frowning, he was staring at his phone, his thumbs moving rapidly across the screen. Stas followed my gaze and immediately understood what had caught my attention.
"I wonder how long he's been standing there," he said.
"Do you think Denis saw us?" I asked.
Stas shrugged."If he hasn't yet, he's about to."
Stas pushed the driver's door open and stepped outside; I followed suit. It was the middle of the day. The sun had climbed high, and after the air-conditioned coolness of the car, the heat scorched my skin. Stas took a bag with our purchases from the trunk, then, once he reached the hood, extended his free hand toward me with a smile. I slipped my palm into his, and together we headed for the entrance.
"Hi," I greeted Denis. He immediately looked up.
"Finally! I've been looking for you for—" He cut himself off mid-sentence. His eyes widened in surprise, his mouth falling slightly open as he noticed our joined hands. He didn't even try to hide it—just stared openly at our intertwined fingers, at a complete loss for words.
"Did you try calling?" Stas asked calmly.
Denis shot him a disdainful look."Of course I did. At least now I understand why Asya couldn't hear her phone."
I patted my pockets and realized my phone was missing.
"Give me the keys," I asked Stas. "I think I dropped it in the car."
Without taking his eyes off Denis, Stas released my hand, pulled the key from his jeans pocket, and handed it to me.
"You'll figure out how to open it?"
I nodded and hurried back to the car. I checked the seat where I'd been sitting—nothing. Then I looked at the back seat, where Stas and I had been drawn earlier by kisses, and there it was: my phone, lying on the floor. Only the edge of the black screen peeked out from under the seat, giving it away.
When I turned it on, I saw three missed calls from Denis and swore under my breath. The phone must have been on silent the whole time, and I hadn't noticed the vibrations. After checking for any other calls or messages, I hurried back.
As I closed the car door, I saw Stas gesturing animatedly, clearly explaining something to Denis. Denis looked frustrated, staring at the ground and rubbing the back of his neck. Whatever Stas was saying, Denis didn't like it—but at least he didn't look angry, which already felt like a small victory.
I returned to them quickly and tried to draw the attention back to myself.
"So, what happened? Why were you calling?"
"I wanted to ask if you'd put in a good word for me with Dasha," he muttered almost inaudibly, a shy flush immediately coloring his cheeks. Talking about Dasha with me was one thing; showing vulnerability in front of a vampire—the sworn enemy of werewolves—was quite another.
That thought alone made me imagine how furious my father might be when he found out about Stas and me. He still hadn't fully gotten over my relationship with Nick, never missing an opportunity to speak ill of Karimov. What to expect now, I couldn't say. I wanted to believe that Stas really did mean as much to my dad as he always claimed—and that there wouldn't be any trouble.
"I can put in a word," I began carefully, biting my lip, aware of how much this might hurt him. "But there's another problem. She already has someone. I haven't met her boyfriend, but it looks like he'll be going to prom with her."
Denis snorted in displeasure."So that means you won't be able to sneak me into the ball, right?" He nodded toward Stas.
"Why not? I absolutely can," I said quickly. "Nothing stops me from introducing you to the principal as my guest." I turned to Stas and put on my most pleading expression before adding, "You wouldn't mind, would you?"
He wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me closer.
"Not if you're still dancing with me," he said with a smile, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. A pleasant shiver slid down my neck in response.
"Then it's settled," I said with satisfaction, clapping my hands, genuinely pleased with how neatly everything was falling into place. "Just one thing, Denis—please don't make a scene."
"What scene, Asya?" he protested. "At least this way I'll have some kind of chance to talk to her."
"Fair enough. And don't forget to iron your shirt!"
"Of course. I'll even borrow my dad's cologne," Denis added, clearly pleased with himself.
I wrinkled my nose."Easy there. Don't overdo it. Three sprays are more than enough," I advised. Denis nodded in understanding. "And don't bother Dasha today. She's not in the best mood."
His expression immediately grew serious."Because of that guy?"
I shook my head, searching for a safer answer and avoiding any mention of what had really happened.
"No, no. Let's just say she experimented a little too boldly with her appearance before prom."
"I'll love her no matter what!" Denis declared proudly.
Both Stas and I barely managed to suppress our laughter. It wasn't really our place to mock him—especially after our recent conversation—but he'd said it with such unguarded earnestness that he sounded like a character in a cheesy soap opera. When words like that come from the heart, or when someone you love says them to you, they're touching. Hearing them from a friend about the object of his affection, however, is almost always funny.
"Should I pass that along to her?" Stas asked dryly. From Denis's face, it was easy to see how much effort it took him not to snap back. I appreciated his restraint and tugged gently at Stas's arm, steering him inside. Patience has its limits, and the last thing I needed today was a fight between the two of them.
"All right, we should go," I said, waving goodbye to Denis. But Stas froze in the doorway and began rummaging through the shopping bag.
"Wait. Where is it?" He dug deeper among the purchases until his fingers finally found what he was looking for. "Got it!"
He handed a small bundle to Denis.
"Here. I wanted to cheer Dasha up," he explained as Denis cautiously took the item and began unwrapping the thin paper, "but I think it'll be better if you give her the gift yourself."
Denis stood there in confusion, staring at the package in his hands. Stas took hold of me and pulled me along without waiting for a clearer reaction. The last thing I heard before the door closed behind us was a quiet, almost disbelieving, "Thank you."