pretty play

ten

a/n- if the song above doesn't work, play die for you by the weeknd.

when we got home i only remember a few things, dimitri putting me to bed, paying the sitter, and then holding my hair back as i threw up again.

i'll have to pay him back.

when i woke up, it was quiet. too quiet.

hesitantly, i slide out of bed and i open my door, immediately the scent of syrniki and coffee hits my nostrils.

every saturday dimitri would cook me syrniki, a popular russian breakfast. essentially they're cheese pancakes topped with some sort of fruit, they're very good.

my heart pings with a unknown emotion and i remember the conversation we had last night.

when i enter the living room, rowan is sitting at the table eating his pancakes while dimitri seems to be cooking bacon.

my stomach grumbles loudly, and i sit down quietly at the island as i admire dimitri.

he's wearing a tight white shirt, that clings to every back muscle known to man, and i can only imagine what his front looks like.

it's like he feels me staring because he turns around and slightly jumps when he sees me.

but he grins and says, "you scare me." which makes me giggle at his russian accent.

he speaks practically fluent english, it's just his grammar and pronunciation he messes up sometimes.

"sorry." i say and he just continues grinning, then turns back around.

and i was right about his shirt, it clung to
every. single. ab.

i think i counted six.

shaking my head, i turn to rowan who's shoving his food down his throat, and i smile.

"доброе утро малыш." i say to him and he pauses eating and smiles.
(good morning baby.)

"доброе утро малыш."
(good morning mama.)

i get up from the stool to grab a mug, my arms brush against dimitris as he finishes up the food, sending tingles down my spine.

i prepare myself a cup of coffee and i glance to dimitri who's on my left.

"so you stayed over?" i whisper-ask, and he scratches the back of his neck.

"i did, i slept on the couch." he replies.

i nod, adding some creamer into the mug.

"thank you, for helping with rowan, and the sitter. how much was it? i'll pay you back." i say but he shakes his head.

"no need, it was my pleasure."

i don't try to press on the topic because i know he won't budge.

he glances at me and stops moving, before turning fully to face me.

he looks nervous, and i quirk a brow.

"nadia, will you go on a date with me?" he questions and my lips part just a centimeter.

i swallow.

what about the paparazzi? rowan? his career?

he must see my hesitation, "we can keep it a secret, or not." he smirks at the end of his sentence.

i look away, thinking.

and when i look back at him i have my answer.

"yes."