charity project // mischa bachinski (ride the cyclone)

16 - it had better work

"Are you sure we're done studying?"

"Probably. I know what the words mean."

"Alright."

I left my car at the cafe to drive with Mischa. Let me rephrase that: I (very reluctantly) left my car at the cafe to drive (if you can even call it that) with Mischa. (I was scared).

The whole time, my knuckles were white from gripping the console so tightly. Now I felt what my mom felt when she had to drive with me for the first time. I could've sworn he turned that corner so sharply on purpose just to get a reaction.

I was probably overreacting, but think about it. Does Mischa seem like the most trustworthy person to drive a car? I don't think so. He's the type of guy to turn his rap music up so loudly that all the other cars around him vibrate from the bass line. Then he'd end up going through a red light, and....

I shuddered. Thank God we made it to the store without crashing. He had a dumb little smirk on his face the whole time.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

I nodded. "Yes. I'm perfectly fine. You are a great driver. Nothing to worry about. At all."

"Even when I turned that corner and you started clinging onto my arm for dear life?"

"Yep. Perfectly fine. Not in the least bit worried."
He shrugged. "Alright. Seems real. Maybe I should drive back to the cafe faster so you can get home earlier."

"No!" I nearly shouted. I cleared my throat. "I mean... no, thank you. That's not necessary."

"You were so scared!" He laughed.

I just glared at him.

...

We were in the beauty aisle. Mischa tapped his foot impatiently.

"Love, when will you pick something out? It's been ten minutes."

"It needs to be perfect. It can't be cheap. It has to be thoughtful. It has to show that you care. Ooh! How about this one?"

I handed him a face mask that was a cucumber-strawberry clay mask that you keep in the fridge.

Mischa turned it in his hands. "It's great. Let's go now, please?"

"Not yet. I want to pick out some makeup for her. What color of eyes does she have?"

"Fuck if I know? I don't spend a lot of time looking at her," He responded.

"Think, Misch, think! She's a strawberry-blonde. Not a ginger, thankfully. That means she will probably have blue or green eyes."

"Yeah. Let's go with that."
"Let's get her an eyeshadow palette. Ones with dark reds and oranges and maybe golds. It'll look good with blue eyes. Then you can tell her you thought it would suit her eyes. She would love that!" I exclaimed.

After maybe five more minutes (or what Mischa claimed to be eternity) I found the perfect palette.

"I want to go back now. I am very bored, Y/n," he complained.

"That's not a me problem. Wait a moment!"

I got another idea.

"Hey, Mischa?" I looked up at him.

"Yes?"

"I really love your adorable accent. And your hair looks really good today, did I mention that? And that sweater? I would steal it."

He sighed. "What do you want?"

"I got a really good idea for Tom's gift. Can you hang on a few minutes? Please."

Mischa frowned and looked at me for a few seconds.

"I can hang on."

"Thanks! You're the best!" I stood on my tiptoes and gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

I practically dragged him to the aisle for tableware.

"What are we doing here?" He asked.
"Tom is a big CEO man. Uranium Industries. You know what every CEO needs? A really cool thermos. I know they drink coffee. I smelled coffee when I came over that one time," I explained.

He stared at the shelves before picking one out. It had a train pattern.

"Ha! It is perfect!" Mischa beamed and put it into our cart.

"I know! Hopefully this works."

"It better work. I am spending a lot of money on this."

"The money that Tom and Laura give you?"
He nodded. "Yeah. Don't think about that one too hard."