We drive into the city. Katrin is silent, her gaze fixed on the road. I am silent too, feeling the tension between us. We both know what has happened, and each of us is dealing with it in our own way. Rebel Girl continues to drive around the city, calming herself. The speed is slow, but enough for reflection. Every turn or traffic light gives us time to gather our thoughts. With every kilometer, the girl relaxes: her shoulders drop, her breathing becomes steadier. Her hands, which earlier gripped the wheel until her knuckles turned white, now rest lightly on it. My girl is becoming serene, and I am infinitely happy to see her like this. In her eyes, which recently burned with anger and pain, there now appears a hint of peace.
Do Ivan's threats scare me? Yes and no. On one hand, I am glad to be rid of his claims on my Rebel Girl. On the other — I know he won't let the incident at the club go without consequences. Ivan hated me from the first time we met, and his anger grew with every encounter. But I couldn't have acted differently. After all, he wanted to hurt her. He would have broken her, finished what that monster at school didn't complete. Katrin used to be a diligent girl, but after that incident, she became a troublemaker, trying to forget herself. To forget what he had done to her on that desk.
How was it for her to go to school every day, walk past that classroom, sit through lessons in it? Katrin decided it would be easier to shed that negativity through distraction. And she distracted herself with alcohol, fun, and dancing. But I know that behind this mask hides a fragile soul that is still searching for salvation.
We stop at a bus stop near the institute. The girl gets out of the car, and I follow her, feeling the cold breeze touch my skin. She sits on the trunk, her gaze fixed on the distance, as if she is trying to see something beyond the horizon. I stand between her legs, place my hands on her waist, and feel her shiver slightly, but then relax. Her body becomes soft, as if she finally allows herself to feel safe. In this moment, I realize that we are both seeking comfort in each other. Her past, my fears, our shared experiences — all of this is tangled into one knot that we are trying to unravel together. And, looking at her, I feel that, despite all the difficulties, we can get through this. Because we are a team.
"It shouldn't have been like this. I shouldn't have brought you there today." I see her clench her fists, as if trying to hold back tears.
Her words hurt me because I know she is blaming herself for everything that happened. Pain can be read in her eyes, and I want to take her hand, tell her that everything is fine, that I'm not angry, that she is not to blame.
"I liked your friend, I got to know another side of you. And I also really enjoyed participating in the race. You were amazing behind the wheel." My hands slowly stroke her back, feeling how tense her body is. I want her to feel that I am here, that I'm not angry and don't blame her. But her gaze is fixed somewhere far away, as if she doesn't even hear me.
"No, that's not it. I made a mistake. And the mistake wasn't that I brought you there, but that I argued with you in the first place, and that led to this."
I freeze, feeling my heart tighten. Does Rebel Girl regret the last week? Our arguments, our moments, how we grew closer? It feels like a knife to the heart. I can't believe she really thinks that way.
"How can you say that? If we hadn't argued back then, I wouldn't have gotten to know you," I object, trying to stay calm.
My fingers lightly squeeze her shoulders, as if trying to hold her back from further words. I don't want her to continue because I'm afraid her words will destroy everything we've built during this time.
"And is that so bad? You lived without a care, perfectly fine even before me." Her words sound cold, and I feel my calm begin to crumble. Does she really think that her presence in my life is a mistake? My hand involuntarily drops, and I take a step back, as if her words have physically pushed me away.
"Are you serious?" I can't believe she's saying this. Everything that was between us, all these moments, laughter, arguments, even tears — was all of that a mistake to her?
"Do you think I was living before you? Where? In what place? Oh, probably when I sat like a prisoner in my room all day with my books? Wow, what a wonderful life!" I can't hold back my emotions, feeling them overflow. I remember those days when my life was empty, when I was alone, when my only comfort was books and silence.
"And now what? You're fighting, drinking with me in different places around the city, and getting into trouble? This isn't right for you, understand that!" The girl truly believes that her influence on me has been destructive. But she doesn't understand that she is exactly the one who gave me what I needed so much — life, emotions, feelings.
"You don't understand, before you I didn't live. I existed. You gave me everything I have now. Yes, sometimes it hurts, sometimes it's scary, but this is life. Our life. And I don't want to go back to what was before you."
Her eyes fill with tears, and she turns away, but I don't let her go. I know we're both wounded, that we're both afraid, but I also know we can get through this. Because we are us. And no mistakes will change what we mean to each other.
"Are you saying you're not right for me?" I can't let her think she's a mistake in my life.
"Yes."
I get tired of listening to her nonsense, I can't stand her self-deprecation any longer. In a surge of emotion, I pull her to me by her hips, feeling her body tense and then relax. My lips press into hers with demand, with pleading, with a desire to prove her wrong. I want her to feel that she is everything to me.
"Wait! Ah!" Her protest is weak, almost uncertain, but I don't stop.
My lips move to her neck, leaving hot kisses, slowly descending to her collarbones. I feel her breathing quicken, her body responding to every touch. Then I abruptly pull back and start kissing Katrin again. Passionately, uncontrollably, as if my life depends on it. My hands slide down her back, pulling her even closer to me. I don't need her words — I don't believe them for a second. I want her body to speak, not her wounded heart. And it doesn't want to let me go for a second. Now she's the one pulling me in, her arms wrap around my neck, and she kisses me back with the same passion, with the same hunger.
We kiss until we run out of air in our lungs. Every kiss is like a silent confession, a promise that we can get through anything. In this moment, there are no doubts, no fears — just us, two people who have found each other in this chaotic world. When we finally break apart, our foreheads touch, and I feel her breath mingling with mine.
"You're everything to me," I whisper, looking into her eyes. "And I won't let you think otherwise. I'll never give up on you. I don't care what you say or do, I'll always be with you and on your side. And I'm not afraid of him or his threats. The only thing I'm afraid of is losing you." I decide to lay it all out at once, before she can start trying to convince me to break up again. My words are filled with sincerity and determination, and I hope she feels it.
Katrin places her hand on my head and begins to stroke my hair. Her touch is gentle, but uncertainty can still be read in her eyes.
"My good boy, how can you not understand that I'm not right for you and never will be," the girl whispers, her voice sounding with regret.
"That's only what you think, my opinion is completely the opposite. I believe we complement each other perfectly," I object, feeling her fingers continue to caress my hair.
I know we are different, but that is exactly what makes us stronger. Her emotionality and my calmness — two opposites that converge and unite us. Thanks to her, I became more emotional, and she, in turn, learned to find peace beside me.
"And what am I supposed to do with you?" A light playfulness appears in her voice, her eyes shine as if she has just thought of something amusing, and I feel the tension between us begin to melt away.
"Kiss me, love me, and don't forget to feed me!"
I want her to know that I only need the simplest and most sincere things from her — her love, her attention, and, of course, her culinary talents, although I don't mind cooking for us myself.
Finally, a smile reappears on her face. When the girl stops smiling, she seems to change, becoming someone else. I like this serious side of her too, but being carefree and cheerful suits her more. Her smile is like the sun, lighting up everything around. In this moment, I realize how much I missed that light.
"Very funny."
"I tried."
Rebel Girl moves closer, and I feel her hand softly rest on mine. Her touch is warm and soothing, as if she wants to say: "Everything is fine, I'm here." I hug Katrin, feeling her body relax in my arms. In this moment, everything falls into place — our arguments, our doubts, our fears dissolve in this simple moment of closeness.
"You know you're unbearable?" she says it as if it's not a reproach, but an admission that I am her little weakness, which she has accepted. Her arms wrap around my waist, and I feel her breathing become steady and calm.
"Yes, but you love me anyway." My lips touch her soft hair, and I feel her shiver slightly from the touch.
Katrin laughs, her laughter light and sincere, as if she has let go of all her anxieties and is simply enjoying the moment. I hold her tighter, feeling her body relax in my embrace.