Disclaimer: I do not own Vampire Academy or anything surrounding it (but I do own this plot :D)
RPOV
What a dick. Good looking or not, Russian Mafia back there was not in my good books and, yippee for me, I got to spend the next three months looking at him. Looking at him was not the problem, interacting with him was. I should have known that Mr. 'I'm too good looking for my own good' had a flippin' ego on him!
I sighed, annoyed, and actually contemplated getting him that glass of water just out of spite.
"What chipped your shoulder?" Christian smirked while flipping some pancakes.
"Don't even go there Fireboy." Irritation leaked of my every word. Christian just laughed again.
"Well could you at least pass me the sugar without wanting to murder it?" He chuckled which caused me to glare.
"You know, if you weren't getting married to my best friend I would have probably murdered you by now." I grumbled picking up the half used sugar.
"The feeling is mutual." He smiled taking the packet from my hand. "I'm assuming, by your particular attack on me by murder means, it was a guy that pissed you off?"
"Oh and how did you make that conclusion?"
"If you wanted me to 'rot in hell' it would be a girl thing." He shrugged and I deepened my glare.
"Well how would you like it if someone treated you like a piece of shit rather than an actual human being?" I snapped.
"Well you don't talk to me any other way." He grinned slyly and practically signed his death wish.
"You know, I can't work out who is worse: you or the cocky bastard that I am now condemned to serve for the next three months where his mood will not improve and he will probably be making cheap shots at me all the time while he tries to sort out his unbelievably fortunate life!" I said loudly and rather angrily causing Christian to pale a little.
"I'm sure he can't be that bad," Christian cleared his throat and realised his pancakes were burning, "Hey, you may even end up liking one another." He shouted over the harsh sizzling of burning batter.
"Not likely!" I called back as I wandered out of the kitchen, leaving Christian to sort out his mess.
DPOV
Tasha. That was her name. As well as being moderately outraged by the fact that she actually called me after what had been so clearly a one-night stand, I was appalled that she had the nerve to call me Dimka. Fair be it a nickname for 'Dimitri' but only my family called me by it. I hadn't realised just how much it annoyed me for someone else to do it but boy, it did. There was an underlying guilt that burned within me upon hearing that name. I was a disgrace; a disgrace to my good, kind-hearted family. The thought of what I had done in my life brought me to the verge of tears; I was ashamed and I don't think anything could comfort me.
"May I ask why you are calling me Natasha?" I said her name with emphasis to broadcast to her that nicknames were off limits.
"Oh please Dimka," I flinched, "call me Tasha. We're friends." We most certainly were not.
"Okay Tasha, how can I help you?" I managed through gritted teeth.
"Well, you can do a lot of things for me," she teased, "but I was wondering if you wanted to hang out some time. I mean as friends, no going all business-y on me."
I inhaled sharply and unclenched my jaw. I did not want to 'hang out' but I was racking my brain to find a way to decline politely but I was struggling. "Tasha, as much as I would love to," I lied, "my current assignment requires my full attention."
"You work to hard Dimka! It is something I admire about you." She replied. "Okay then, I'll speak to you soon, and sooner than you think." She giggled. "I'll let you go then, bye." She sang then hung up.
I removed the phone from my ear and exhaled irritably. Cracking my neck from where an unprovoked ache had begun, I saw the young waitress emerge – violently might I add – from the kitchen. She caught my gaze and I became locked in a trance-like state. Her eyes were truly stunning, like melted chocolate on a warm summer day. Her face softened slightly but then she remembered that she did not like me so sneered before wandering over to a recently deserted table to clean it.
I face-planted my own table and groaned. What the fuck was wrong with me? I must be coming down with something because I never, I repeat, I never stand awed like a love-sick teenager over some appealing girl.
First Viktor, then Nathan decided to grace me with his presence, then I got a call from a girl I slept with and accidently gave my number and to top it all off, I was drooling over and pretty waitress!? I only saw one course of action.
"Hey buddy, how's it going?" A cheerful voice sang over the phone.
"Not great." I replied bluntly but it had the desired effect.
"Club, 19:30 – you know which one – don't be late." And with that, Ivan hung up. Getting drunk seemed like the only logical course of action and Ivan was very good at it. He always managed to lift my dark moods with his party lifestyle and 'could-not-care-less' attitude. Part of me worried for him but the most of me went along with it because if I started to worry about Ivan, I honestly didn't think I would cope.
I finished a decent day's work and began to pack my things. A sudden surge of guilt blasted through me. I had come into this pub, pissed off one of its staff and hadn't even ordered anything. I groaned and put my conscious at ease by leaving a tip.
"D! How you doing pal?" An already intoxicated Ivan slurred.
"Not to good Ive." I slumped into the bar stool next to my animated friend.
"Here," he slid a glass of scotch over to me, "drown out your sorrows 'cause I has found us a lil' piece of heaven…" he inclined his head to where three girls sat giggling whilst not so subtly looking over at us. One of them caught my glance and started nudging her friends in awed excitement. I rolled my eyes and chugged the rest of the drink.
Ivan got me another and then got a little overexcited, "Shit man, they're coming over, play cool." He whispered before turning to the approaching girls. "Well hello ladies," he grinned, waving his glass in the air, "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance." He said brining his lips down onto one of the girls' hands. Even when inordinately pissed, Ivan was a charmer.
"Hello, I'm Camille," the girl smiled flirtatiously.
"Ivan," Ivan greeted, "and this here is my main man Dimitri." He slapped my back causing me to choke on my scotch.
This was met by a round of laughter.
"Awwww you are so cute." A little too friendly girl wrapped her dainty hands around my arm.
"Yeah D, you're such a softy!" Ivan cheered whilst snaking an arm around Camille's waist.
"Cheers Ive." I said sarcastically.
"No I like a soft guy." The girl – whose name was still unknown – reassured me. Her eyes darkened and she brought her mouth up to my ear. "But I'll bet you're not too soft in other areas…" she murmured saucily.
Well I was looking for a distraction.
The third girl shifted uncomfortably but a quick reassurance from Prince Charming Ivan and she was hooked. After an unholy amount of scotch and a numerically unheard of total of vodka shots, where each sound contributed to a pounding headache and all the lights blended into a sea of watercolours, I found myself in a cab with the girl, Nina, whose name I managed to prize out of her.
Stumbling and staggering backward into my flat, her lips attacked me ferociously. I guided her into my bedroom and kicked the door shut behind me.
There was no pleasure though it all, just distraction; just pure, unadulterated distraction from the hideous pain it was being me.