“You know you didn’t have to come back with me?” I ask him wearily, after a long flight home.
“I know,” he says calmly, ending the discussion. I smiled because he wanted to be with me here, rather than with Denis in Spain.
“Are you aware that you didn’t have to come back either? You just had to let me tell him the truth.” I knew we would get back to that at some point.
“I don’t want him to know,” I glimpsed down, feeling his hand on mine as he intertwined our fingers.
“You know I will support your every decision. It just terribly annoys me that he behaves like that. How can he say that you’re just rude when he doesn’t really know anything about what you went through?” I sensed irritation in his voice, so I just shrugged, not even knowing what to say to him.
“I don’t care what he thinks, as long as I know you’re on my side,” he grinned, then kissed me gently on the forehead.
“I’ll always be on your side, shorty.”
“Should I drive you home or?” He asked after we got in the car, and I thought for a moment. I don’t want to go home. I’m gonna have to listen to my parents scolding me, and I don’t want that at all.
“Anywhere, just not there,” I begged him not to take me to that hell, so he just nodded.
“You know you’re always welcome at my home,” I grin, recalling all the times I had to sleep there. That happened a lot.
“I haven’t been there for a really long time.”
“Nothing has changed, don’t worry,” he said with a smile, and I became serious.
“You and I did.”
•Fedya’s pov•
“Is there any need to say Make yourself at home?” I put the key down on the dresser in the hallway, then turned to Victoria with a smile.
“Nothing actually changed,” she glanced around the apartment, and I noticed that she was fixing her glance on the only thing I didn’t want her to see. She approached slowly, so she looked at me for a moment as if asking permission to take the frame in her hands. I shrug, then turn my gaze to the cell phone screen.
Call me when you get home. We need to talk.
How can he even assume that I want to talk to him after he literally made his own sister come back to Russia? I ignore the message, then look up at Vika, who is still fascinated by the picture in the frame.
“When was this photographed?” She looked at me with a smile, and I shrugged.
“I have no idea. About ten years ago, maybe. Maybe even more. I don’t really remember.” I nervously glance at the photo, which she still holds in her hands, so I look back at her.
“Everything okay?”
“Everything is great I’ve just never seen this picture before. I mean, I know we have a lot of childhood photos together, but,” she explained to me with a smile, and with a delicate gesture, she put the frame back in its place.
“Why did you put it here?” She asked curiously, and I cursed under my breath. I knew she would ask me that. After all, that’s Vika.
“If it bothers you, I’ll put it away,” I skilfully change the topic, and she instantly shakes her head.
“Why would it bother me? I’m just curious.” She came back to me, closing the topic called photography.
“Should I order something? Pizza, maybe?”
“Thank you, but I’m not hungry,” she replied with a smile and finally settled down on my couch. I mean, it’s not like I’m hiding something in the apartment, but I’m still not comfortable with her examining every corner.
The photo she observed is not the only one from our childhood, that I brought when I moved. She doesn’t have to know that I took almost the entire album with me.
“Sure?” I ask once more, though I’m aware she won’t change her mind.
“Sure,” I say nothing of what comes to my mind and what I should probably tell her because I know how she responds to remarks regarding her diet.
“I can make us pancakes if you want?” I suggest another solution to the problem, but she refuses again.
“Don’t bother.”
“In fact, it’s not the slightest problem for me. I would prepare whatever you want,” I gave her the most beautiful smile I have, hoping that she would agree to eat at least something. I don’t want to bother her because I know how much she hates it when her parents tell her she should eat more.
“You’re not going to give up, are you?” She asked me with a smile, and I nodded.
“Okay, then order a pizza because I don’t want you to bother with the kitchen for me.”
“Or are you just afraid I’m going to poison you?” I asked her seriously, and she started laughing.
“Okay, if you really insist, you can make pancakes. Although I would use that time in some other way,” she looked at me defiantly, so I felt a lump in my throat, still trying to do the right thing.
“Let me feed you first, and then you can do whatever you want to me. I’m all yours.”
•Vika’s pov•
“You’ve got a message.” I walk into the kitchen carrying Fedya’s phone, which is constantly vibrating. I stand at the door and eye him.
Why does he look so handsome in an apron?
“What does it say?” He asked, observing the mixture in the pan.
“I haven’t read it,” I replied, confused, to which he looked at me for a moment.
“Feel free to read. I’m not hiding anything,” he smiled at me and looked back at the food.
He never even hid the password, so I unlocked his phone quite easily. I scowl when I see a million messages from Denis, which Fedya effortlessly ignores all day.
“What does it say?” He repeated the question, and I glanced at the messages but chose not to read the novels my brother had written.
“It’s just Dan bothering you,” I say, not interfering in their relationship, more than I’ve already been.
“He is hopeless. Does he really believe that I will contact him after he treated you like that?” I witnessed how he frowned at the mention of Denis.
“Fedya”, he turned to me, giving me all his attention.
“Promise me one thing.”
“Anything you want,” he smiled, which made me want to smile too but I kept a serious face. This is a serious situation after all.
“You’re not going to argue with him because of me,” I say, dead serious, so I can see that he didn’t expect to hear that.
“Vika”, he probably wanted to rebel, but I intercepted him.
“You said whatever I wanted. I want only this.”
“I can promise you that I will not start an argument. But don’t expect me to be silent when he treats you like a jerk.” He also became serious, to which I nodded.
“Thank you,” I smile at him, and he smiles back at me before gently lowering his lips to mine.
ns 15.158.61.43da2
