POV Stefan
- Come on, Stefi, please! Why don't you sit in a cafe and I'll get you your favorite pistachio brownie ice cream? I will do everything for you! - Beggingly, he asked the Holy One to fold his hands.
And I couldn't, couldn't sit in a cafe and just think about him. I wanted to see if I could just point a finger at him and say his name without a hitch. Artem. My sleeping hormones were just screaming about going to him.
The saint was shaking his head at my obsession. He was against Artem for some reason. I've been living in this world for a little over a week and I can't make myself go away, and Svyatoslav is glad I stayed. We often walked in any free time, Svyat brought me to his university and introduced me to friends. He is already finishing the fourth year of his studies and plans to open his institution as soon as he accumulates the money. The saint prepares divinely. He thinks I must have talent, but for now, I'm just transferring food.
I love the Holy World. Yes, you won't see pregnant women walking around with their kids, or Alf, who like hunters, track down their perfect couple by smell. There were couples just a man and a woman, and I can't get rid of the idea that they're not alphas and omegas. And couples have been very strange. A man who looked like an omega with a woman who also looked like an omega. Or vice versa: a couple of alphas. Brr.
Otherwise, I liked it. I met different people who were nice to meet. Svyat took me to a strange club, which gathers only people like us. I didn't like it. It was dirty, everyone was too loose, too vulgar. I even saw three men get a little privacy in the bathroom stall. Terrible. Svyat said he didn't come here very often unless he wanted to get laid. In general, we never went there again.
I found out that Artem was at the same university, but at a different faculty. He comes from a decent, wealthy family, but they don't know why he goes with people like Stepan. The girls both love him and hate him at the same time.
- Artyom is a fucker and a dog who doesn't need any feelings. Girls change like disposable dishes," Svyat said, grumbling, wiping dishes. It upset me. Don't I have a chance?
- They do, I'll just look quietly and come back, honestly!
Today I learned that Artyom and his friends are going to be on the track. They had a motorcycle race there. And I want to see it.
Svyatoslav surrendered by sticking his phone and credit card to me.
- Something happens, press one of them and my work number will appear. One call and I will come. And a credit card to buy myself a meal there if anything happens.
- Thank you! - When I kissed the Holy One, I ran to the track.
A lot of people gathered there. Music from cars rattled everywhere, alcohol was pouring in the river, and clothes on everyone for some reason became less. Especially on girls. But I was only interested in one object. I stuck to some jeep, watching Arthur sit on his German BMW S1000XR, which makes me drool, and talks to the guys. He was wearing black jeans, a T-shirt that fits the same color, sports boots, and gloves on his hands. He held his helmet with one hand and corrected his short red hair strands with the other. A smile. What a smile he had... I watched him laughing, talking, and not noticing my gaze at all. When we "accidentally" encounter each other in the city, I always slow down, but later I say hello, and he smirks, winks and leaves without words, annoying the Holy One.
And now, he suddenly turns around, notices me, looks closely, and I melt again. His black eyes do not let him take his eyes away, they hold him close to them. And I, like a fool, am shyly smiling and waving awkwardly. He turns away. It was a shame.
- Svyatoslav! What are the fates here? You can't stand motorcycles! - I twitched and turned my back on my voice. In front of me was an alpha with a funny haircut. My hair looked like fluffy sausages. In my world, alphas never wore long hair. And then there's the funny one.
- What's that on your hair? Looks like... cigars," the "sausage" sounded in my head anyway, "making me smile," funny as that. Can I touch it?
- Ha-ha! Cigars, no one has ever compared my great dreadlocks to cigars. Touch it," the guy stepped closer and smelled like cigar smoke. He had to bend over so I could touch all the other dreadlocks.
- They are hard! And how do you wash them? And if you cut them off, will you be curly? Did it hurt to do that?
- Why, do you want to do the same? It's going to be beautiful on your hair, too," the stranger took a strand of my hair and touched it in his hand. - They were so soft.