We enter the apartment, and Katrin immediately heads to the bedroom, grumbling about how much she hates this clothing. Her dissatisfaction sounds so genuine that I can't help but smile. I like her in any look, but this new style makes her even more special — exactly the way I want to see her.
I go to the kitchen to make her some coffee, trying to ignore her indignant exclamations from the other room.
"Ugh, finally, I took this horror off myself," the girl announces with joy and relief, appearing in the doorway of the kitchen in her usual oversized sweater and jeans. Her face is glowing with joy, as if she has just been freed from a heavy burden.
"It's not for long, little one," I say, handing her a cup of coffee. "Tomorrow's Monday, and you're coming with me to the institute in your new wardrobe. Don't forget, you're my girlfriend."
Katrin lets out a wail of despair, as if I have just announced the end of the world to her. She dramatically flops onto a chair and sighs.
"Maxik, I beg you, maybe have some mercy on me, and I won't go tomorrow?" my girlfriend pleads, looking at me with her big, hopeful eyes.
"Not going to work," I reply with a manic smile. "Tomorrow, I'll personally wake you up and take you there."
"Fine, I'll go," she gives in, but then immediately tries to bargain for some concession. "Well, can I at least wear my old clothes?"
I stay silent, stubbornly staring into her eyes. Rebel Girl smiles sweetly and bats her eyelashes, trying to soften me up, but it doesn't work. After a minute, she realizes the scale of the tragedy and that I'm not going to budge.
"No, I shouldn't have felt sorry for you. I should've taken you to a night club where they hold illegal fights. Let them beat you up good there, then you'd be kinder to me," she huffs, pouting like a child. Her face is so funny that I want to laugh, but I hold back to avoid making her even angrier.
"Will coffee help you survive this tragedy?" I joke, sliding the cup even closer to her.
"Coffee is the only thing saving me right now," she says with exaggerated seriousness, bringing the cup to her lips. Her tone is so dramatic that I can't help but laugh.
"You know you're the cutest, even when you're pouting, right?" walking over to her, I wrap my arms around her shoulders.
"Don't try to sweet-talk me," she grumbles, but I notice the corners of her lips twitching into a smile. "You're still a villain."
"The villain who cares about you," I kiss the top of her head. "And who wants you to be happy."
"Happy? In this dress? Are you joking?"
"Well, maybe not right away, but you'll get used to it," I say, smiling. "And who knows, you might even like it."
"Don't count on it."
I know she has already resigned herself to it.
We sit there, enjoying the moment, and I feel our mood improving. Katrin is stubborn and capricious, but that's exactly what makes her special. I know that despite her protests, she will come with me to the institute — because she is my girlfriend and she trusts me. And that is enough.
"Is there really a place in our city where they hold fights?" I ask with interest, not quite believing such a thing actually exists. My eyes widen in surprise, and I look at Katrin, expecting her to laugh and say it's a joke. But her face remains serious.
"Yeah, they hold men's fights and, on certain days, women's fights too. I even participated once," Rebel Girl states in the calmest voice, telling me such horrors.
I am terrified just imagining how my fragile girl could fight there. Images immediately pop into my head: her, so small, against someone much bigger and stronger. My heart clenches with anxiety.
"Don't you have anything better to do? How could you agree to something like that? It's dangerous, you could've been killed there!" I start shouting indignantly across the whole kitchen. My hands clench into fists, and I feel anger and fear mix inside me. How could she take such a risk?
"Don't yell like that, or I'll go deaf," she slightly leans away from my shouting. "It happened once, and they wouldn't have killed me — just crippled me. There are people who make sure no one dies, because it would lead to problems. So, they keep an eye on things."
"Why did you do it?" I still can't understand her motives. It seems to me that she would never stoop to such a thing.
"I was just bored, decided to try it," she replies evasively, but I can see her gaze becoming a bit distant. The girl is hiding something.
"I don't believe you. Answer honestly."
"Fine," she sighs, lowering her eyes. "I was in a bad mood, and I'd been drinking before that, and as a result, I agreed to the fight."
"What put you in a bad mood?" I already guess that the reason was serious.
"I found out about my father. About his death," she clearly swallows on the last word, as if the memories are still painful for her. Her voice trembles, and I feel my heart clench with pain for her.
I walk over and, wrapping my arms around her back, kiss her on the cheek. I want to protect her from all these memories, from all the pain she has endured.
"I hope you won, since you started such a dangerous thing?" I change the subject so she won't be sad. I want Katrin to smile again.
"Did you doubt me? I love winning, and I do it often. But afterward, my body hurt for over a month, though it was worth the victory," she says, smiling with pride. Her eyes light up with that very fire I love so much, and I feel the tension ease a little.
"Alright, fine. Let's get back to our conversation by the waterfront. What were the questions there?" Rebel Girl says, returning us to a lighter topic.
I start recalling everything I asked her then. My thoughts return to that moment. My heart beats faster, and I try to focus on her words.
"Just the questions in order, okay?" she asks me, her voice soft but with a slight note of insistence.
"Do you like me as a man?" slips out of me, and I immediately feel my cheeks start to burn with embarrassment.
Her eyes widen like five kopecks, and she can't hold back a light giggle, covering her mouth with her hand. Her laughter is so genuine and light that I involuntarily smile, even though I still feel uncertainty inside.
"Do you think I'd kiss you and do such intimate things with you if I didn't like you? Of course, I think you're a man. A very handsome man, and I like you. As a man," her words sound so confident that I feel a weight lift off my soul. Her voice is tender but firm, as if she wants to dispel all my doubts once and for all.
"I guess I'm just not confident in myself, and that's why I asked such a weird question," I admit, lowering my gaze.
"With me, you can be open, just like I am with you," Katrin says, now without a shadow of laughter, her eyes looking straight into mine, as if trying to penetrate the very depth of my soul. Her gaze is so sincere that I feel the tension start to slowly go away. She's right — I need to doubt myself less and trust more.
"I know. I also asked about it being my first time..." I begin, but she interrupts me, her voice soft but with a slight note of curiosity.
"And?" her eyebrows raise slightly, and a small smile touches her lips.
"Does it bother you that I don't know how to do anything in that regard?"
"Are you serious? Judging by what happened at that club when I danced for you on the pole — or rather, what happened after the pole — you're doing just fine with that," her words make me remember that evening, and I feel a slight shiver run across my skin.
"I'm worried that at the most crucial moment, I'll do something wrong or hurt you."
Katrin moves even closer to me and kisses me on the lips. Her kiss is tender and calming, as if she wants to convey all her confidence and warmth to me. Her lips are soft, and her hands rest on my shoulders, as if she wants to say, "I'm here, with you, and everything will be fine."
"I'll be there, and if anything happens, I'll help. So don't worry for nothing. Any more questions?" my girlfriend pulls back, but her hands are still on my shoulders. Her eyes look at me with such warmth and support that I feel my fears beginning to recede.
"When will it be?" I save the most interesting question for last.
"Like I said, I was thinking about the middle of the month, when your desire is coming to an end. Until then, let's keep going on our dates. What do you say, for or against?"
"Honestly, I don't care when it happens, as long as you want it yourself and are ready. I don't want a repeat of that night you already mentioned today."
"This time, I trust you completely, so I won't push you away. Let's change the subject, since we've discussed everything? We'll clarify the rest of the details closer to the event," her voice is light and carefree.
I nod, feeling my heart fill with warmth and gratitude. Her presence always stirs a mix of excitement and calm in me, as if she's the very anchor keeping me afloat.
"Alright. What did you want to talk about?" I clarify with her.
"When is the next date? And where are you taking me this time?"
"It's already on Tuesday. Tomorrow we're busy: in the morning, I need to go to the dorm to pick up my things and clothes. And then we have classes," I explain, trying to sound confident.
"Just don't tell me you're going to dress like a disaster again," she crosses her arms on her chest, her eyebrows raise, and her lips form a slight smile. Her tone is playful, but I know Katrin takes my appearance seriously.
"No, I've decided to completely change my style to the one you made for me," I reply, feeling my cheeks start to burn with embarrassment.
But inside, I'm proud of myself. I really want to change, and her approval means everything to me.
The girl gently strokes my cheek, and a mischievous smile appears on her face.
"That's my Nerd, keep it up!" she praises, and her words sound so warm that I feel my heart fill with joy.
I'm on cloud nine. My girlfriend has praised me, and it doesn't matter what for exactly. I want her attention and approval. Yes, it might sound strange, but I need to feel needed, to know that I matter to her, that Katrin likes me just the way I am.
The style of clothing she has suggested really appeals to me. I even think about adding something of my own, but without changing the overall style. I want Rebel Girl to be proud of me and see that I'm trying for her.
"Thank you," I whisper, feeling her touch warm me. Her presence, her words, her smile — it all makes me happy. I know that with her, I can be myself, and that's the most important thing.
"So, where are we going on our next date?"
"It's a surprise," I try to maintain an air of mystery. But inside, I'm already making plans to make this date special. For her. For us.