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"Russian's weird," In Russian, the nickname for Vasilisa was Vasya, which made no sense to
me.
"So is English."
I gave him a sly look. "If you'd teach me to swear in Russian, I might have a new appreciation
for it."
"You swear too much already."
"I just want to express myself."
"Oh, Roza…" He sighed, and I felt a thrill tickle me. "Roza" was my name in Russian. He
rarely used it. "You express yourself more than anyone else I know."
I smiled and walked on a bit without saying anything else. My heart skipped a beat, I was so
happy to be around him. There was something warm and right about us being together.
Even as I floated along, my mind churned over something else that I'd been thinking about.
"You know, there's something funny about Tasha's scars."
"What's that?" he asked.
"The scars…they mess up her face," I began slowly. I was having trouble putting my thoughts
into words. "I mean, it's obvious she used to be really pretty. But even with the scars now … I
don't know. She's pretty in a different way. It's like…like they're part of her. They complete
her." It sounded silly, but it was true.
Dimitri didn't say anything, but he gave me a sidelong glance. I returned it, and as our eyes met,
I saw the briefest glimpse of the old attraction. It was fleeting and gone too soon, but I'd seen it.
Pride and approval replaced it, and they were almost as good.
When he spoke, it was to echo his earlier thoughts. "You're a fast learner, Roza."