I'm still reeling from the things Mason said this afternoon. While getting ready, I almost change my mind multiple times. And once the cab picks me up, there's a terrifying moment when I almost start crying. But I try to breathe and focus on the scenery. The roads I'm driven down seem so familiar, but I can't quite put my finger on it. It's a small distraction, but brings enough respite from my churning emotions that I don't consider asking the driver to turn around.

He pulls up across the street from a building that I instantly recognise. It's plain and squat like I remember, apart from the flashy neon sign that wasn't there the last time I was here. As I cross the street, a few posters advertise open mic night. And sure enough, a cute alt girl is singing what sounds like an original song when I walk though the doors.

The smell is expected: rich fried food and the slight acrid note of cigarette smoke. It's pretty full. I look around, trying to find Dimitri.

From the corner of the room, he meets my eyes over the top of his paperback. Just the sight of him twists my stomach in a knot. Part of me wants to turn around and go right home. But the part that's fuming at Mason and the part that's curious about Dimitri's song team up and win the fight. I wave to show I've seen him and head to the bar. I wasn't kidding about that shot of vodka.

The barman is cute, with stretched ears and tattoos. He neatly pours my shot first, which I down while he mixes me my G&T. Then I make my way through the people to join Dimitri at his table.

"This is probably not the type of place to bring a book," I say as I sit down across from him.

He grins, displaying those adorable pointy teeth, and puts his book away.

"I bring a book everywhere," he replies. "The benefit of having mens' pockets."

I smile, but don't really know what to say, so I take a sip of my drink as I look at him. It's refreshing, with a good kick from the double shot of gin.

"Thank you for coming," he says, leaning forward slightly so I can hear him better. "I know it was out of the blue."

"I almost didn't," I admit.

"Bad day?"

"You could say that."

"Hence the vodka?"

He laughs at my surprise. I thought I'd been surreptitious enough.

"I'm Russian," he reminds me. "You think I don't know shit vodka when I smell it?"

"The quality wasn't really the goal," I mumble to cover my embarrassment.

"And judgement wasn't mine," he says gently, but he's still grinning. "I guess you didn't really strike me as the type is all."

"Yeah, I've heard a lot about my type today," I grumble into my glass. "Anyway, what did you want to talk about?"

He watches me for a second, taking time to drink some of the almost full beer in front of him. It makes me feel strange, having him watch me like that. I find myself sitting up straighter under his gaze. I tried to keep my look a little more low-key, with my leather pants slightly elevating the general off-the-shoulder Tshirt and sneakers combo. But I needed my makeup like armour, concealing my shit day and giving me a confidence boost.

"I'm sorry about Tasha," he says. "She was out of line."

The warm buzz of the alcohol is already spreading through my limbs. Paired with the surprising level of comfort that his presence brings me, I feel relaxed and happy. And my mouth acts of its own accord.

"Are you sleeping with her?"

He throws his head back and laughs, though I'm not sure if it's because of my question or my resulting flush.

"No, I'm not," he replies, still chuckling. "And I like it when you're blunt, by the way. Maybe the vodka was a good choice after all."

"Good for who?" I mutter, taking another drink just for something to do. When I look back, his mouth is still quirked, his eyes shining with that laugh. It almost knocks me over how beautiful he is.

I look around the room to stop myself from staring at him, my eyes catching instead on the stage. The previous girl has vanished, replaced by a short guy in a leather jacket.

"Do you like this place?"

I look back to Dimitri, who's gesturing at the room around us.

"Uh, yeah," I say noncommittally. His eyes light up like I'm missing some joke, and that's when I realise.

I blink with shock. So it isn't a coincidence after all. I'd known from the second I saw the building that this was the bar where Lissa and I first saw him play. But now I know he deliberately secured it as our meeting place.

"Okay, I'm impressed," I admit. "How did you even find it?"

"This place was actually a favourite of mine. I used to come here all the time, before."

This explains something I wasn't even aware that I'd noticed up until now: he's completely relaxed here. He looks almost normal, apart from the good looks that would make him stand out of any crowd.

I nod, trying to get my thoughts away from his appearance. "You still haven't answered my question though. What do you want to talk about?"

"Hmm." He takes another gulp of his drink. I follow suit, trying not to let myself watch the muscles in his neck as he swallows.

"Maybe I'm stalling," he continues with a smile. "Once I get to the point, I have no guarantee you'll stick around."

I roll my eyes, silently thanking the fates for the fact that he can't seem to tell how engaging I find him.

"Not true. I'll always have to stay until I finish my drink."

I take a healthy gulp of my gin and tonic to emphasise my point. It's nearing the halfway mark.

"Well in that case," he says with a devilish grin, "I'll have to keep buying you drinks."

I laugh. "I thought this wasn't a date?"

"It isn't. But that doesn't mean I don't appreciate the company."

I narrow my eyes. "Appreciate or appreciate?"

"Both," he chuckes. It sends a thrill through me. "And besides, I'm hoping if you drink enough, you'll agree to sing for me again."

I laugh. "There's no way I'm getting up there. Drunk or sober."

He seems to think about that for a second, silently musing into his beer.

"Not even if I begged?"

Now there's a mental picture.

"What, on your knees?" I blurt out. It's all I can do to not clap a hand over my mouth, but I know I'm turning red.

To his credit, he tries to control his expression. But he doesn't entirely succeed at holding back his laugh.

What is wrong with me?

I try to ignore my flaming face and tactfully change the subject.

"Besides, last time you heard me sing you went and changed the words to the song. It totally messed with my street cred."

"Sure it did," he laughs.

"It's not something you would know about," I insist. "Your job comes with built in street cred."

His smile fades, and I instantly feel like an idiot.

"You know what the the most frustrating part about my job is?"

I shake my head, eyes wide.

"Everything I do is observed and analysed. I'm not allowed to make my own decisions, it all has to be calculated."

A brief pause for a bitter smile, which takes on a mocking edge as he continues.

"My label loved the show, you know. They sang my praises, said how the crowd ate that shit up. It was an incredibly successful publicity stunt. A fair few gossip sites have published their speculations about the song too."

My good mood has evaporated. Here he is, telling me plainly that it didn't mean anything. And I'm a fucking dumbass.

Then I feel him grab my hand.

"I wanted you to know the truth." His voice is earnest, almost feverish. "I don't know why I feel like I can be myself around you, but in this fucking facade that my life currently is, you were honest with me."

He holds my gaze. I couldn't look away from those gorgeous brown eyes if my life depended on it. I need to hear his next words like I need another breath.

"You can trust me," I murmur.

He smiles. "I know. The truth is, you got under my skin. You told me what I needed to hear, not what I wanted to hear. You made me hopeful, for the first time in ages. The song was for you. It was to you."


Author's Note


Thank you so much for reading! I've been overwhelmed with all the reviews and input, it's been wonderful to hear what you think. Please continue to share your thoughts. I seem to be posting every Monday, we'll see how long it stays that way. But if you'd like to keep up to date with when I post, please feel free to favourite and follow.

The VA universe and the characters therein are the sole intellectual property of Richelle Mead.