I want to kick myself.
All that talk of it not being a date, how he warned me he doesn't date and I agreed. How he clearly and openly communicated with me in order to manage my expectations, and brought me into his space in order to make sure I was okay. And here I am in his kitchen with some come hither desperation so plain on my face that his resulting discomfort makes him leave the room?
Ugh.
I completely forgot myself. And I scared him away. When he's been nothing but nice to me. Fuck.
The power of my humiliation makes me bury my face in my hands in an attempt to escape. All I can think is; at least Mason was wrong. If Dimitri doesn't want to kiss me, he probably doesn't want to sleep with me either.
I wipe my stinging eyes and sigh. Sitting here crying about it isn't going to help. Internally, I try to locate the logical part of my brain that can help me plan and execute a course of action.
I've overstayed my welcome, clearly. So I need to find Dimitri, thank him, and go back to my apartment. On the plus side, moving to another city seems like something of a mercy now.
God, why am I so dumb.
I take a deep breath and stand up. The remains of our meal are evident on the counter. So telling myself firmly that I'm just being polite and not stalling at all, I put away the bread and butter, and find a cloth to wipe the crumbs from the surface of the counter. I turn in a few circles like an idiot looking for the trash, but given the lux of my surroundings, it's probably cleverly concealed in some cupboard somewhere. So I dump them in the kitchen sink with our butter knife. He probably also has a dishwasher. But I'm pathetic,not psychic.
Once I clean my hands, I realise that I'm out of tasks. So I take another breath and leave the kitchen, not taking a left back to the parts of the apartment that I've already seen. Dimitri disappeared to the right, so that's the way I go, and the kitchen lights magically switch off behind me as I exit. Idly I think of all the times I've accidentally left the lights on when I leave a room, and wonder what other tiny annoyances can be solved with money.
The hallway I find myself in is a neutral creamy colour. Hesitantly, I start walking towards the door I can see ahead to my left. But the framed pictures on the wall grab my attention. I want to stop and examine them, to see if I can see the family he was talking about so fondly. But I know that I'm already intruding, and I catch myself before I can look too closely.
Still, I recognise a few pictures of Dimitri as I walk past. Professional photos of Dimitri on stage performing, Dimitri shaking someone's hand, editorial pictures from some magazine photoshoot. Every one strengthens that choking feeling of shame in my throat. He's so beautiful, and so very very clearly out of my league. He was clear about his intentions and I pushed him too far.
My phone buzzes in my pocket again. I tell myself that I'm not delaying the inevitable, it could just be really important.
Hey Rose, writes Dean, another guy I do work for on occasion. I know I had you down to join to crew for that spoken word thing at the university on Thursday. I had to reshuffle and I don't need you that night. I'll let you know if anything changes.
Fucking. Mason.
But I have to deal with the situation in front of me first, the other shitstorm can wait an hour. So I carry on down the hall.
The door I reach turns out to be a bathroom. I start to turn around and resume my search, but I catch sight of my face in the mirror out the corner of my eye. My makeup is blurred. There are black tearstains tracked down my cheeks, with lopsided lipstick smudging my mouth into a frown. Good to know I both look and feel like a mess.
Even though he's already seen me like this, I do my best to make myself look less like a clown before I see him to say goodbye. The tissues are too abrasive on my skin, leaving tiny little rolled up pieces in their wake as I scrub at my face with the dampened surface. I brush off the debris and carry on wiping, leaving my skin pink.
As I'm double checking my handiwork in the mirror, faint strains of guitar begin to float down the hall. I straighten up suddenly, as my stomach knots. I tell myself that this is for the best, at least this way I won't have to keep checking random rooms and further invading his privacy. I'll be on my way soon enough, then I can put a very tiring day behind me and figure out what the fuck I'm going to do about my life.
I approach the mostly closed door at the very end of the hallway, led by the poignant notes of the guitar carrying through the gap. When I'm a few feet away, Dimitri adds his voice to the mix. He isn't singing words, just a general vocal tune accompanying the melody, but it's hauntingly beautiful. I stand outside the door, transfixed. It's a bittersweet sound, but it seems to give voice to something inside me that I can't even name. I can feel the hairs rising on my arms as the notes seem to go right through me.
Not wanting to interrupt the song, but also not wanting to stand there like a creep, I slowly push the door all the way open.
"Sorry," I say quietly, as I hover on the threshold of the room.
Dimitri sits on the edge of a fancy amp, against the opposite wall. The room is filled with instruments and equipment; this is obviously his studio. One wall hold a few guitars on brackets, but Dimitri's favourite one is with him, resting on his thigh. He has a pencil in his free hand, and a notebook balanced on one knee. He looks up at my intrusion, clearly surprised. Then he sees my face.
"Oh god, no I'm sorry," he says. "You're probably not used to this. When I get inspiration, I kind of have to get it on a page before it's gone."
I nod as though I understand. It's a moot point anyway, it's plainly obvious I'very overstayed.
"I just wanted to thank you for tonight before I head home," I explain, striving for a neutral tone.
A crease appears between his eyebrows. "You're leaving?"
I manage a weak smile. "Yeah, I should get out of your hair."
"I..." he starts. His fingers still play across the strings like a caress, though they now produce no sound. "Of course you're free to go if you'd like. I just hope it's not because of me."
What? Of course it is. I don't want to make him any more uncomfortable than I already have. But the time for reticence was probably before I basically begged him to kiss me. So I swallow my pride and say what I mean. He seems to prefer it when I'm blunt in any case.
"Back in the kitchen, I wanted- I mean I thought you were going to kiss me. And I know you said you don't date and I don't want to make you uncomfortable. So it's probably better if I go."
He looks down at his notebook, seemingly deep in thought. Then he stands, leaning that beautiful guitar oh so carefully against the amp he just vacated. He turns to face me.
"Roza," he says quietly. "You make me want things that aren't possible. You draw me in like a magnetic field. You inspire me in a way I haven't felt in a long time." His eyes dart once more to the notebook where he left it next to his guitar.
Once again, I hear that caveat hanging in the air, and I smile.
"But?" I ask.
He smiles too.
"But," he agrees, "I know you just got hurt by someone you cared about, and I don't want to get mixed up in that."
"And I don't date," I add. "And you don't date."
Another half smile makes him look like he shouldn't be real.
"It's better if I don't. I'm great if you need a guy to get back at your rich dad. Or if you need a scandal to get your name out there. But any time I've tried for something more than that, they can't handle my long hours, or competing for my attention, or me being surrounded by a lot of people who throw themselves at me. I know it's likely that I'd just end up hurting you too."
And with that, that bubble of safety is popped. He's right, I know it in my head. But my imagination runs wild at the thought of knowing him, of kissing him. Of loving him one day. Of making him smile and coming home to him and helping him make his bread.
It fucking sucks that our lives are going in different directions. I got to meet my star, got to know him enough to leave me wanting more. And this is probably the last time I'll ever see him. Because thanks to Mason, I'm going to have to find somewhere to start building my career again. All that feeling just wells up inside my chest, and I can't bear the thought of not communicating to him in some way how much this time has meant to me.
So with nothing to lose, I want to leave him with something of me. I go to pick up his guitar, watching him watch me with sadness in those beautiful brown eyes of his.
"You're more than that," I tell him, allowing my fingers to find their familiar places on the strings. "You have a unique way of looking at the world, and the gift to communicate it so beautifully to so many people. You're more than they tell you you are. You're more than you let them make you."
He doesn't speak, just watches me with an unfathomable expression. He listened to what I said before, all I can hope is that he's listening now. Because he asked me to sing for him. So I take a breath as I begin to play the chords I must have heard a thousand times in the last few days.
Roses fall and fade away
But I won't forget
I will never be the same
Since the day we met
Silence descends as I let the final notes ring out, then I quietly put the guitar back. There are tears in my eyes again, but I've said everything I needed to. The only thing left is for me to leave.
I offer Dimitri a brittle smile, and make my way to the door. But as I pass him, he grabs my wrist.
"Thank you Roza," he says softly. "Really. You have no idea what it means to me. But. Did you mean that to sound like a goodbye?"
I wince at his ability to understand me so we'll, at that evidence of our connection.
"It is," I admit. "I'm going to have to leave the city. Mason didn't take it well when I told him I'd be meeting you for dinner." I sigh, thinking of the headache that awaits me. "He's been trashing me to anyone who'll listen. I'm not going to be able to get work here anymore."
Dimitri pales and says something in Russian.
"What was that?" I ask.
His mouth is a thin line. "Nothing that really requires translation. Just what I feel like doing to that..."
I smile weakly. "Get in line I guess. But really, it's okay. Maybe a fresh start is what I need right now."
Then his eyes widen slightly as a thought strikes him. "Rose, I'm so sorry."
I smile and squeeze his hand, about to thank him. But he continues.
"The contract for the gig next week... I didn't know if I was going to see you again. And I... couldn't really stand the thought. So I spoke to Tash and the label. The contract with Mason's company stipulates that the gig has to include the original crew. Every person. Including you."
I go numb. Another gig with Mason. Where I'll have to work with him. And Dimitri.
I meet Dimitri's eyes. My panic is probably pretty clear on my face.
"I'm so sorry Roza, to try get you out of it, I'd have to talk to the label directly. After how insistent I was in the first place, I doubt they'd do anything in time."
I close my eyes and take a breath, feeling the reassuring pressure of Dimitri's hand still holding mine. When I open them again he's looking at me, brow creased with concern.
"If Mason isn't scared already, he's dumber than he made himself look. I'm not going to run away this time."
Dimitri squeezes my hand, his expression fierce with emotion. "If you need my help at any point, shout and I'll be there to kick his ass."
The protectiveness in his tone makes my stomach clench, and I wish I could just stay with him all night. But with a final squeeze, I release my grip on his hand and he follows suit.
"I'll see you then," I say.
He smiles. "I'll call you a cab and show you out."
He proceeds back through the hallway and to the front door, while I follow.
"Oh, and Rose?" he says softly as he opens the door.
I'd already started forward, but I'm happy to turn and get another look at him.
"Yeah?"
"I'm going to sleep much better knowing I'm going to see you again. Try not to miss me too much."
I laugh at his cheeky wink, and tell myself that it's the shoes I chose that add that extra bounce to my step as I leave.
I have so much to tell Lissa.
Author's Note
Thank you so much for reading! I can't believe how much support this fic has received, and I'm really grateful to you all. Please leave a review to let me know what you think, and as always feel free to favourite and follow if you'd like to keep in the loop with when I update.
The VA universe and the characters therein are the sole intellectual property of Richelle Mead.
