Page 24 of Mountain Mens' Curvy Obsession

“Where’s Aleks?” I ask.

“He’s outside, on his phone. Arguing with someone,” Anya replies. “He looks upset, but then he gets off the phone and comes into the store. I reach out to him, and I see my hand… it’s so small. I think I’m a kid. And I see a set of ink fine-liners I really want. I’ve been watching a lot of anime cartoons lately, and I think I want to draw manga. It’s a phase.”

I can’t help but smile. “I remember your manga phase. You were really good at it, actually.”

“I was?” She sounds surprised.

“You are immensely talented, Anya. I think I got to see you in each stage of your artistic development. Though, truth be told, I appreciated your Impressionist years the most.”

Anya tries to dig through her shattered memories for the details, but she can’t find any, so she goes back to the shop. “I’m asking Aleks to buy those fine-liners for me. He’s in his late teens, I think. Rocking a grey suit. Trying to look older than he actually is. Our bodyguards are back by the car…”

“You remember the bodyguards.”

“I remember feeling safe, knowing they were there. But I can’t remember what they were protecting me from,” she mutters. “Aleks was nervous, though. And he didn’t want to buy the fine-liners. He said… Dad didn’t want me wasting time with art because I was supposed to do something else with my life, that Leo wasn’t into art, to begin with.” Anya gives me a curious look. “Who’s Leo?”

Shit. That’s a tough question.

How do I navigate this without upsetting her? How do I keep her safe if I can’t risk telling her the whole truth? As much as I am tempted to keep Anya in the dark about her past, it only takes a question such as this to make me doubt my own direction where she’s concerned. It’s unnerving.

“How does Leo’s name make you feel?” I ask Anya.

She lowers her gaze once more, and I feel her whole body shivering against mine. “I don’t like it. I think it frightens me.”

“Then trust your instinct. The rest will come to you, I promise. Tell me about those fine-liners. Finish your story.”

“After Aleks tries to discourage me about the markers, he sees me moping around the shop. I don’t think we were supposed to go in there to begin with. He keeps glancing outside, like he’s waiting for someone.”

“Does anyone arrive?”

She shakes her head slowly. “Yes, but I can’t see their face. They talk for short bit outside the shop, while I’m drooling over those markers. Then Aleks comes back in again, and he smiles and says… ‘You know what? Screw this and screw Leo. What else do you want aside from the fine-liners?’”

“Sounds like Aleks, alright,” I smile as I remember our best and greatest friend.

He was a good man who was dealt a terrible hand and born into a family that lived by ancient and gut-wrenching traditions. He was forced to continue their legacy to keep Anya safe, and he forfeited his life in the process.

“I start pointing to things in the shop.” Anya laughs lightly. “I want this and that and… At one point, we’ve got so many bags that one of the bodyguards comes in to help carry everything back to the car. And… that’s it… everything goes dark after that.”

I let my fingers slowly comb through the silvery-blonde richness of Anya’s hair, my mind quietly drifting down a memory lane of my own. The weight of her warm body keeps me grounded in a peculiar haze, stuck somewhere between the past and the present, while the scent of her fills my lungs with moments of last night.

But every time I try to focus on our lovemaking as a way to stay closer to the present, to prepare for whatever darkness the future still has in store for us, I keep getting flashbacks of Aleks.

“I think we already told you that Aleks followed us into the Navy,” I tell Anya.

“Ah, yes, part of his rebellious phase,” she giggles. “I wish I could remember that.”

“You will. I just remembered something myself. Our first week at the Naval Academy. We were so green and wide-eyed. We were convinced we were going to, I don’t know, save the world, do something awesome, have our names etched in the annals of history. Aleks wasn’t sure he belonged there with us, though. I think he realized that one morning during an equipment drill. Booker and I were on top of the situation.

“Nico was overseeing and making sure we had our gear in proper working order before the lieutenant came in for an inspection and the actual drill,” I add. “And Aleks just sat there on the edge of a bench, staring at his equipment. I remember going up to him, asking him what’s wrong. He looked at his watch and said, ‘It’s Anya’s birthday.’”

“Aww.”

“‘It’s Anya’s birthday, and I don’t know if she liked the gift that I sent her,’ he said.”

“What was the gift?”

I peer deep into her eyes, wondering if I can get her to dig deep for that memory herself. “You were turning eight or nine. He sent you a big box, apparently. Wrapped in blue and tied with a—”

“White satin ribbon,” she mumbles, her face lighting up as her fingers move in the air, imitating the movement she must’ve made upon unboxing her gift. “A big-ass easel with a built-in seat and a color palette. It had special holes in a separate tray for the water jar and any ink bottles I might need to keep handy. Oh, it was something else. I… I can’t believe I just remembered that.”

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