It's Complicated… Chapter Seven: The Words

Author's Note: I might not be updating too often, now… I'll try to wrap the story up, soon. If it seems rushed… it probably was… sorry!

Anita's POV

The next bazaar arrives. I set out my chicken's eggs, some flowers and several turnips.

Felix announces that the bazaar is open, and people come flooding in. I ring the bell and some flock to my stand.

Through the sea of people, I see an all-too familiar blond head. This time, I do not call him over. I pretend to look busy, chatting with a couple of the customers for a few seconds.

Just as I'm taking out a few more flowers, Ivan approaches. My heart pounds hard and too quickly.

"Welcome," I tell him quietly.

He looks at me, his expression completely serious. "I really need to talk to you, Anita. It's urgent. Can you please come over to my house on Friday?"

I hesitate, wanting with all my heart to scream, "YES, YES, YES!" It takes all of my self-control to make myself think about this. What about Freya?

"Please, Anita. Please." He gently takes my hand. The customers begin to line up, seeming impatient.

I take my hand away and continue to sell items. I don't say a thing to any of them, my eyes remaining on the items.

I feel like a robot. Ring bell. Sell. Put out new items. Ring bell. Sell. Put out new items. Don't look at Ivan.

Minutes pass, tension building as the silence goes on. I try to smile for the buyers, but I don't think I succeed.

He's still standing there. He's waiting for me. He's not going anywhere else. He watches as I sell item after item, pleasing person after person.

"Oh," a woman with a sunhat mumbles, "I don't have enough money for this beautiful butterfly…"

When I speak, my voice is quiet, somewhat raspy, and tired-sounding. "How about for half price?"

She grins. "R-really? Wow, thank you so much."

She pays and disappears into the crowd. Ivan is still beside me. Finally, as the population at the bazaar dies down, he pulls me away.

"Hey," I complain weakly.

He shakes his head and whispers, "Please, Anita. I really want you to come."

"What about Freya?" I ask.

Ivan replies, "I don't like her that way, Anita." The words he didn't speak hung in the air. I like YOU.

"I'll come," I promise. "Friday."

He picks my hand up and squeezes it. "I'll see you then."

I nod as he turns and goes back to his house. Throughout the rest of the bazaar, his name and his words echo in my head, over and over again.

Ivan. Ivan. "I don't like her that way, Anita." "I don't like her that way, Anita." And his unspoken words. "I like YOU…"