As we neared the automatic doors, twilight had already begun to settle over Kserton. The sun had long since slipped below the horizon, and the small town lay swathed in early evening shadows. When the doors slid open, a crisp wave of cold air hit my face, and I instinctively tugged my jacket from around my waist, draping it over my shoulders as I let out a short whistle.
"It gets dark so fast," I muttered, a twinge of annoyance curling in my chest at the thought of finding my way home. "Hey, do you guys sell bike lights?"
Nik frowned slightly. "Nope. You can only get that sort of thing in the city center," he said, pushing the cart behind me. "Where's your car?"
"I'm on my bike. Not even eighteen yet," I added quickly, sidestepping the question rather than explaining my mode of transport in detail.
For a moment, his face twisted in thought, glancing between me and the contents of the cart as if trying to puzzle something out.
"How are you going to carry all this?" he finally asked.
Silently, I led him to my bike. With a practiced motion, I unhooked one of the folded bags from the rack and unfolded it, showing him the roomy interior.
"You have no idea how much can fit in here," I said, a faint smile tugging at my lips. In Rostov, people never understood how I managed to haul a mountain of groceries on a bike, and I rather enjoyed proving that it could be done.
Nik's gaze lingered, sharp and unwavering. He stood straight, arms at his sides, watching as I swiftly divided the groceries between two bags. Near the end, I realized I'd overbought—but the extra items slipped neatly into my backpack, invisible to him.
I unhooked the bike from the cart rack and swung my leg over the pedal, ready to start, when Nik's hands landed on the handlebars.
"You're really going to ride like that?"
I shrugged. "Yeah. I'll take it slow. The road seems well-lit."
"But you're not taking the road itself—you'll be on the pedestrian path below it."
"Yeah?" I said, unsure what he was getting at.
His eyes searched mine, questioning, almost pleading. I stubbornly shook off the worry.
"There's no light down there," he said, "and you don't have a flashlight."
"So what do you suggest?" I said, a smirk teasing my lips, imagining myself stranded at the supermarket overnight because of a knightly sense of duty and no way to call my dad.
Nik's hands left the handlebars abruptly. He strode back into the store through the main entrance, tossing something back with a murmur that sounded like, wait. When he returned, the store's branded vest was draped over his elbow, and in its place, I found him clad in a black leather jacket, guarding against the chill.
I blinked, caught in the subtle transformation. One garment, and yet it changed everything: Nikita the polite supermarket worker became Nik, the confident, daring young man, his posture straight, each step deliberate. He exuded energy, bold and magnetic, and I froze, reluctant to blink, trying to etch the moment into memory.
Even as he picked up both bags and gestured for me to follow, the spell didn't break. He moved with a casual ease, as if the weight of groceries were nothing, and I had to push myself not to fall behind.
Through the parking lot, he stopped at a dark burgundy Jeep. Streetlights caught the tinted windows, though inside, the beige interior and a pair of plush dice dangling from the rearview mirror were visible. He opened the trunk, placed the bags inside, and folded down the back seats. With more space, my bicycle slid in without a struggle.
As he secured it, I noticed the wheels crusted with mud and began to apologize, horrified at the thought of dirt smearing the beige interior.
"Don't worry," he said, pointing to the lining. "Dad and I often haul cement and sand. Construction's in full swing—there's plenty of dirt in here already."
"What are you building?" I asked, settling into the passenger seat and buckling in.
"A dog kennel," he replied curtly, and I sensed he didn't want to elaborate. "Where do you live?"
"Right at the city's edge, in Bugrad."
Nikita glanced at me, surprised, and pressed the ignition. "And you came all this way? There are plenty of grocery stores nearby."
"Are there? I didn't see them on the map," I admitted, perplexed.
"Maps won't tell you much about Kserton," he said dismissively, and the car eased smoothly into the quiet streets.
"And you?" I asked. "If you wore that leather jacket more often, maybe I'd agree to a bigger city tour—on your free time, of course."
For a moment, Nikita was silent, as if weighing my words carefully.
"Depends on how you behave," he finally said, a half-smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.