07-21-2014, 04:23 AM
Ivan listened to her explain her fears. For that moment all pretense and game had stopped. "But I did see something Ivan. I'm not crazy."
Her eyes seemed to plead with him. Zoya was many things; she enjoyed confounding and subverting expectations, showing that she couldn't be pigeonholed. But above all, she seemed to be honest. It was the trait he found most endearing in her. She told the truth. Sometimes funny. Sometimes sharp. But she wasn't afraid to be herself no matter the cost to herself or others. It was a trait that he greatly...admired. He thought about his pops. You gotta look yourself in the mirror, he'd say. You gotta respect the person you see lookin back at you. Zoya lived by that code. She would be honest no matter what.
Ivan wanted to believe her, almost believed her, just on that alone. Almost. Instead, he just held his cup and watched her. Such a pretty woman. But he'd had pretty women. Stephania was a pretty woman. No. Zoya was real. She was deeper than her beauty. No. Her beauty was only a reflection of something deeper.
She shifted gears back to joking. She was echoing his teasing. Suddenly he regretted the pattern he'd set. Here he was, standing across a kitchen table from a woman for whom he felt something. He didn't want to joke. He didn't want to lighten the mood.
But he could see she was tired. She'd drank a lot the previous night. Something had scared her. He believed that. And despite everything, he sort of believed her. He believed her enough. Zoya needed to stop the headache that was already thundering behind her eyes. You don't need to be here Vanya. She'll see you again. Let her rest.
He looked her in the eye as he stepped forward. "I believe you Zoya. I do."
He stopped. "I also know that your head hurts. And that you need to sleep."
He smiled down at her gently as he touched the cup in her hand. "You don't need this. So....I'm gonna go. Why don't you try to sleep a little while longer?"
He looked at her. Part of him hated what he was saying. He didn't want to go. Not at all. But he knew that she'd not appreciate his just hanging around. And it just wasn't his thing, to force himself where he wasn't wanted. She knew he was interested. He was very interested. Enough that a big part of him wanted to kiss her right then and there, tuck her in and caress her forehead. But the rational side of his brain said that it would be too much. So he'd do this much. Tell her he cared and that he'd give her her space. And hope in the next time they met.
He looked into her eyes, feeling that connection again, that feeling that he and her were old friends. His hand rose from her hand to her cheek, touching it lightly. He breathed not deeply but contentedly. Zoya Bocharov. Yeah. He liked her a whole hell of a lot. He smiled at her simply. "Okay?"
Edited by Ivan Sarkozy, Jul 21 2014, 12:42 PM.
Her eyes seemed to plead with him. Zoya was many things; she enjoyed confounding and subverting expectations, showing that she couldn't be pigeonholed. But above all, she seemed to be honest. It was the trait he found most endearing in her. She told the truth. Sometimes funny. Sometimes sharp. But she wasn't afraid to be herself no matter the cost to herself or others. It was a trait that he greatly...admired. He thought about his pops. You gotta look yourself in the mirror, he'd say. You gotta respect the person you see lookin back at you. Zoya lived by that code. She would be honest no matter what.
Ivan wanted to believe her, almost believed her, just on that alone. Almost. Instead, he just held his cup and watched her. Such a pretty woman. But he'd had pretty women. Stephania was a pretty woman. No. Zoya was real. She was deeper than her beauty. No. Her beauty was only a reflection of something deeper.
She shifted gears back to joking. She was echoing his teasing. Suddenly he regretted the pattern he'd set. Here he was, standing across a kitchen table from a woman for whom he felt something. He didn't want to joke. He didn't want to lighten the mood.
But he could see she was tired. She'd drank a lot the previous night. Something had scared her. He believed that. And despite everything, he sort of believed her. He believed her enough. Zoya needed to stop the headache that was already thundering behind her eyes. You don't need to be here Vanya. She'll see you again. Let her rest.
He looked her in the eye as he stepped forward. "I believe you Zoya. I do."
He stopped. "I also know that your head hurts. And that you need to sleep."
He smiled down at her gently as he touched the cup in her hand. "You don't need this. So....I'm gonna go. Why don't you try to sleep a little while longer?"
He looked at her. Part of him hated what he was saying. He didn't want to go. Not at all. But he knew that she'd not appreciate his just hanging around. And it just wasn't his thing, to force himself where he wasn't wanted. She knew he was interested. He was very interested. Enough that a big part of him wanted to kiss her right then and there, tuck her in and caress her forehead. But the rational side of his brain said that it would be too much. So he'd do this much. Tell her he cared and that he'd give her her space. And hope in the next time they met.
He looked into her eyes, feeling that connection again, that feeling that he and her were old friends. His hand rose from her hand to her cheek, touching it lightly. He breathed not deeply but contentedly. Zoya Bocharov. Yeah. He liked her a whole hell of a lot. He smiled at her simply. "Okay?"
Edited by Ivan Sarkozy, Jul 21 2014, 12:42 PM.