"I shouldn't have eaten that," I groaned, leaning back against Dimitri's bed. We sat on the floor sharing one of Dimitri's 'homemade meals", which in this case meant a lot of fried mystery lumps.

"It's not that bad," Dimitri chuckled as he cleared the paper plates. These were the evenings I loved—the ones where Lissa was tied up with Christian and I snuck into Dimitri's room.

"Sorry to break it to you Comrade, but you fight way better than you cook," I said as I leaned my head back, closed my eyes, and held onto my stomach. The food hadn't been that bad, but I was hit with waves of nausea.

"Hey, that was an old family—Rose, are you okay?" Dimitri was crouched down in front of me, concern lining every inch of his face.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just felt off for a minute there. But I'm okay," I added hastily. It was strange—I really did feel better. The nausea passed, and I rose to help Dimitri with the cleaning. He watched me out of the corner of his eye for a while, but gave up after a few minutes of zero evidence that I would be collapsing any time soon.

I threw the rest of the plates in the trash and leaned against the counter in Dimitri's small kitchen. The guardian rooms were nothing like our dorms—they were more like little apartments, complete with a miniscule kitchen, cramped bathroom, and of course, a bedroom. Though I saw the difference in treatment unfair, it wasn't like it really affected me. I never cooked anyway.

"Hey, Dimitri?" I asked as I watched him wash one of the pans in the sink.

He turned and smiled that beautiful smile. "Yes, Roza?"

I grinned. I loved it when he called me Roza—it meant he was happy, relaxed, and unhindered by any of our usual worries. "Just…I love you."

Dimitri abandoned the sink with the water still running and wrapped his arms around me. "I love you too, Roza," he murmured, inclining his head towards me. His brown eyes echoed his words and his hair fell forward and framed his face, the face I loved too much for words. He moved in like he was about to kiss me, but too late I noticed his arm reach behind him to the sink. Before I could step away, Dimitri hurled a pile of soapy bubbles on the top of my head that dripped down my face and through my hair.

"No way!" I shouted. Using my fabulously superb guardian reflexes to dodge Dimitri, I picked up the water-filled pan and flung its contents at my Russian mentor.

"You're going to pay for that!" He yelled in a mock-angry voice.

"Bet I won't," I dared, backing into the bedroom. I made a break for the bed, with Dimitri chasing after me. I leapt on the mattress yelling "Safe! Safe!" as he poised over me, his arms on either side of my body, legs caging me in. He tried to bring his lips to mine but I squirmed away, pretending to put up a fight. I finally let him win, and he gave me a long kiss before climbing off the bed. I watched him wistfully as he moved to his armchair.

It had been three weeks since our cabin incident, and I wished we could repeat it. I know Dimitri wanted to—I could see it in his eyes. But with graduation so close, he asked me to hold off. "Just a little while longer, Roza, and we won't have to hide this anymore," he'd told me on one of our other "dinner dates."

I sighed, hopped off the bed, and dug around in his kitchen for a dish towel to dry my hair. I didn't want to imagine the questions I'd get if I walked out of the guardian rooms soaking wet. Though I could always plead super-soaker attack, I supposed.

I plopped down on the floor next to Dimitri's chair, rubbing my hair in the towel.

"So, I'm thinking Mexican next. Sound good?" Dimitri asked as he sat next to me on the floor.

"Hm. Maybe. If it doesn't involve you preparing it," I said teasingly.

"Maybe you should try cooking next time," Dimitri said drily. "If you think you could do better."

I laughed. "That's a little too domestic for me, don't you think?"

Dimitri leaned forward and stroked a few fingers down my cheek. "Rose," he sighed with a small smile on his lips, "nothing is impossible."

A few days later, I found that he was right.