There was something about his touch that drove her to pleasure.
No one, not even Father or Papa, could hug or touch her as perfectly as he does.
They're in the living room right now, watching some cliché laden soap opera. One would think that's cliché itself, but Vassilissa doesn't blame them.
She looked down, swiping her bare toes on the dark brown, cool, floorboards.
She has moments somewhat like theirs, only with him.
She remembered the time of happiness, where she was walking down that bridge, her brown gems shining in the morning light, with Shura waiting by that lamp post.
She held onto his waist, walking down the road together with Shura Biryukov's arm around her own, emitting a sea of red all over her face. His ash blonde mop flowing in the air as Vassilissa smiled at him.
His fingers combed through her curly ends as they passed by several shops in St. Petersburg.
"Vassie?" he said.
After he said nickname like that, she thought of Shura and her dancing under green lights to Michael Jackson's 'Rock With You' at the dinner table with her parents hours later.
Shura's in her mind, and at the same time, Vassilissa feels like he's standing at the door, ready to take her away.
I kinda had the thought of Vassilissa having a boyfriend for some time, and I'm glad to write something based on it.
Later!
MA6.