At last, I managed to get out of the car and walk over to Stas, but after glancing quickly around the area, I still couldn't understand what had gone wrong. Realization struck like a cartoon light bulb flaring to life, and my face flushed hot—this was all because of me! How stupid. I'd startled Stas with such an unexpected impulse of affection that he'd been distracted and driven straight into the snowbank. Hopefully there wasn't a low fence or anything else underneath that could damage the bodywork.
"Looks like we're fine, but if not, my dad's going to kill me," Stas said in frustration, running his hand tiredly through his hair, pressing down the thick waves. The damper the weather got, the more his hair resembled light curls that could have used a trim. But honestly, the way they shone so warmly in the natural light stirred a twinge of envy in me—boys always seemed to get the noble mane and long, thick lashes. We girls could only sigh, rubbing miracle products from countless jars into our skin, trying to get even a little closer to the effortless beauty that came so easily to others. Just take birds, for example: the males often sported playful colors, sometimes overly flashy, compared to the gray suits of their chosen mates. By nature, we humans weren't much different from them. We went against nature, inventing new rules and beauty standards just to make people buy more and more, chasing fleeting trends to feel more beautiful. But the truth was obvious and cruel: no one was born perfect.
"What happened here?" came the chime of a doorbell, and Denis appeared on the threshold of the fishing shop. Frowning, he looked over the scene before him, then whistled and quickly hurried down the steps.
"Everyone alive?" Drozdov recognized me right away and gave a greeting nod, directing the question more to Stas.
"Seems like it, yeah."
"You could use some more practice with parking," Denis remarked with a smirk, to which Stas replied after a long, meaningful pause, "I got distracted."
My cheeks felt like they'd flushed even brighter, and I quickly buried my face in the high collar of my jacket, secretly hoping the guys would blame the cold air. Winter had truly taken hold in Xertoni. That much was clear from the towering snowbanks here and there, so the chances of blaming my blush on the frost were good.
But no one cared about me or my cheeks—unlike Vladimir's car.
"Got any shovels in the shop?"
"Sure do. We'd just finished clearing the path to the store. The public works crews have vanished again. Funny guys. Every time there's a heavy snowfall, they disappear without a trace. Then on TV, all you hear is: 'Snow came earlier than expected this year, and the equipment wasn't ready to go.' Where have they ever seen a November in Xertoni without snow? You can't get anywhere in my dad's wheelchair as it is."
"Yeah. Same lame excuse every year," Stas stood up. "I actually came here on business. Is my order ready?"
Denis nodded and gestured for us to follow him.
"Careful, the steps are slippery."