“Oh my gosh, are you… Rose Landry?” 

Rose knew she made it to the top when someone recognised her at the gym she went to even though she wore her worst gym clothes and her face was all puffy with exertion. The last set sent her over the edge of tired, pivoting straight into almost unbearable exhaustion, which she knew she would deeply regret the next day. Biding her time, she took a swing from her bottle – nearly choking when the room-temperature water fell down the wrong pipe – and considered ignoring the excited girl who called out her name. Immediately, the quiet voice of her publicist hiding at the back of her mind berated her for even thinking about it. 

Instead, Rose quickly wiped the seat of her machine and turned to face her fan.

“Yep, that’s me.”

The girl looked about Rose’s age, maybe a bit younger, her star struck expression stirring something uncomfortable inside Rose. In her hand, a phone in a glittery phone case adorned with multiple charms that jiggled every time she moved. 

“Can’t believe it’s really you, I’ve been a fan for so long! You’re great in the X-Squad. Can’t believe you’re in Montreal!” Rose murmured a quiet thanks, bracing herself for the inevitable question, “Can I take a picture with you?”

Putting on her award-winning smile, she said, “Of course, it’s always a pleasure to meet a fan of my work,” and turned to face the camera. 

When the girl was finally satisfied with the impromptu photoshoot – no less than ten photos, from three different angles – Rose sat tiredly on the bench, putting her head in her hands. The sound that escaped her could be mistaken for a sigh, but was actually a cry for help.

“Wow,” someone said, and this time Rose did flinch.

“Jesus!” In front of her stood another young woman in sports gear, with a jersey falling coquettishly from one of her shoulders. The majority of her fabulous hair was gathered in a bun on top of her head in a seemingly effortless way Rose knew must have taken a while to get right.

Rose expected the stranger to ask for a photo as well, but she only cocked an eyebrow at Rose, a small smile playing on her lips like they were both in on some sort of joke. “Sorry to spook you, it’s usually Ilyusha that’s scary. That girl, huh? At least she didn’t ask you in the locker room. Or in the showers.” Her words had the vaguest hint of an accent bleeding through, but Rose couldn’t quite place it. She offered her hand to Rose, pulling her up with surprising strength; they collided and for a brief moment Rose found herself pressed into the girl’s body, breathing in the faint rosy aroma of her perfume sprinkled on her collarbones. “I’m Sveta, by the way.”

“Rose.”

“Oh, I know.” Sveta gestured towards the lockers. “You’re leaving, right? Wanna get coffee as a treat?”

“I- I don’t- are you also a fan? ” The little chuckle she got in return only hurt a little bit.

“Not really, no.” Clocking Rose’s crestfallen expression, she added, “I have seen some of your movies, but I mostly know you because of your boyfriend.”

Sveta held the door to the locker for Rose, and as she made her way past her, she got another sniff of that rosy aroma clinging to Sveta’s skin.

“So you’re into hockey?”

“You could say that, yes.” 

As they freshened up, Rose couldn’t help but steal a few curious looks at Sveta. The woman was in a very good shape, and was stunning, in the same way one could say a lion was beautiful – better observed at from afar and with proper gear. 

After a moment, she added, “I’m actually in town to see Boston destroy Montreal.”

Gasping, Rose put a hand over her heart in outrage, “There’s no way they’ll win, Metros have Shane!”

“And Raiders have Ilyusha” countered Sveta, zipping up her black and gold jersey. The colours were telling, even if there was no number printed on the front. 

“You support Raiders?!” Then it clicked, “Are you dating Ilya Rozanov?!”

Sveta quirked an eyebrow, ignoring the way a few people who also happened to be in the locker room jumped when Rose raised her voice. “We’re friends, yes. Dating – no, I love him, but we’re… not meant for each other.” She closed her locker with a decisive bang. “Now, how about we get something to eat?”

After a short conversation, it turned out they both have a sweet tooth, so Rose took a gamble and lead Sveta to her favourite café in the area, a hole-in-the-wall place with a menu including items with incomprehensible names such as “Mocha Lisa” or “Hot Gossip”, but the baristas really knew their stuff. 

Rose expected their conversation to become somewhat stilled – after all, they were just two random strangers who bumped into each other at the gym. It was a welcome surprise to learn they drifted from one topic to another naturally, and every lull in the conversation felt so comfortable Rose didn’t even want to fill it with idle chatter. The things they talked about ranged from the weather to their favourite films, and – predictably – focused on all things hockey. Soon, she learnt Sveta usually resided in Boston, but came to Montreal to support Ilya.

Throughout, her phone kept buzzing once in a while, but she paid it little mind, more interested in whatever Sveta had to say than her friends’ gossip. Everyone knew to phone her if things got serious.

“He doesn’t need me to cheer for him, of course, but Montreal is hard for him nowadays, and I don’t mind taking a day or two off now and again.”

They had chosen the biggest table the café had to offer, and even then Sveta’s thigh sat pressed flush with Rose’s, their shoes bumping into each other every time they shifted. It wasn’t the most comfortable, but it made Rose think to that first night she met Shane – the party around them in full swing while they whispered secrets to each other as if transported to a secret space where only the two of them existed. Talking with Sveta was like that, but where her boyfriend had a one-track mind, content to talk about his favourite thing – hockey – for hours, Sveta was more like a turbulent ocean, every word laced with meanings Rose couldn’t even begin to decipher.

“Ilya doesn’t like Montreal?” It wasn’t a surprise, not really, for a Boston player to prefer to stay away from their biggest rival’s city, but to hear it directly from Sveta’s mouth made Rose think there was a different reason to it than ‘he doesn’t like the vibes’. “I mean, the cold is a bit much, but…”

“No, that’s not it. Besides, if you think this is cold, you definitely haven’t visited Russia in Winter. Ilyusha is… He was…” She tapped her long nails on the cheap table, the sound barely audible through the indie music blaring from the café’s speakers. In her purse, Rose’s phone vibrated again. “I’m only telling you this because I have a feeling you know a thing or two about media snooping around-”

“You don’t have to tell me!”

Sveta considered it for a long while before continuing, with a dark look on her face, “If you tell anyone, I’ll know.” She leaned closer, her breath ghosting over Rose’s ear. “He doesn’t talk to me about it, but I think his- someone broke his heart.”

“Oh.” Rose swallowed, “And you think this… someone… is from Montreal.”

The cheeky grin Sveta gave in return was one part mischievous, and one part threatening, “You’re smart. I knew there was a reason I liked you.”

“So you don’t-” Another ping of an incoming call. “I’m sorry, I have to take it.” Finally giving up, she fished her phone from her purse, cursing under her breath as she noticed the name displayed on the screen. A cold sting of shame crept up her spine, because Rose suddenly remembered why she chose to work out in the morning instead of in the afternoon. “I was supposed to meet Shane before the game…”

Sveta met her gaze over the table, lips parting as realisation set in as she muttered something in Russian. “Did we miss the game?”

“Still about half an hour left.”

Their eyes locked over the table. “Do you want to share a ride?”

Rose found herself mirroring Sveta’s smile, and suddenly everything else faded into background. “I’d like that.”

Rose kept hoping she’d bump into Sveta again, because even though they exchanged contact info that first time they met, they couldn’t ever find the right time to meet up, what with Rose bouncing between Montreal and LA, and Sveta being mostly bound to Boston these days. The short messages they sent each other – a text or two between Rose’s shoots and Sveta’s meetings – were always a highlight of her day.

“You seem distracted.” Shane bumped his shoulder into hers playfully. “Is it about that person you won’t tell me about? The one who made you miss our date?” 

Shane was set to play with Boston tonight, but he made time to meet up with her. To everyone else they were still a couple, even though Rose ended things with Shane a long time ago, for both of their sakes. He seemed happier recently, but was yet to spill the secrets to his good mood. Something changed in the Summer after his injury, but Rose knew better than to pester him about something before Shane was ready to spill the beans on his own terms.

They had decided against getting a coffee together – Shane’s strict diet had him cut out caffeine on the game nights, and Rose would feel bad if he had to endure hockey fans swarming them in the café just to watch her enjoy her drink – and opted to meet up in the Mount Royal Park instead. She was beginning to regret her decision as the tips of her fingers were growing frigid even in the reliable gloves she bought years ago in Michigan, but she stuffed them into her coat’s pockets and kept mum. Shane’s company was definitely worth frozen fingertips.

Another ping came from her cellphone, reminding Rose of a half-finished conversation from the previous night, where she confided in Sveta that she wouldn’t be opposed to acting in a thriller, one where she got to play the part of a villain at long last. She was in the middle of explaining it to Sveta when she fell asleep, her phone pressed firmly into her cheek.

“Hush, not like we wouldn’t break up either way,” she dismissed him, despite wanting to reach out to her phone with every fibre of her body. For now, she wanted to enjoy Shane’s company, however brief it was. These past months, it was like Shane’s schedule suddenly grew even more packed than before, and even though he still talked to her almost daily, she knew without a shadow of a doubt that there was something (or someone) keeping him occupied. “And… it’s nice to have a friend who’s not in the business, you know?”

Ever since his injury, Shane’s tongue seemed sharper, his quips more direct, “Just a friend?”  

Resisting the urge to sigh at the reminder of her recent dry spell, she supplied, “Fine, if you’re gonna be like that, I’ll tell you. Her name is Sveta, we met at the gym that day. Kept in touch. Turns out not every Russian is a jerk like Rozanov.”

The air was colder than in LA, the cold biting but not uninviting in a way some winters could be. It hasn’t snowed so far, which Rose would count as lucky, even if part of her yearned for a real winter. Somewhere to the side a group of tourists made their way around the place, phones and cameras in hands despite the harsh conditions, and Rose wondered if they would end up in the stadium as well, hidden amongst the crowd.

“Sveta?” She was surprised to detect a hint of recognition in his voice. “Il- Rozanov’s friend?” Her surprise must have shown, because he quickly added, “I’ve seen her with him once or twice, heard her name thrown around. You know, locker room talk.”

“Uh huh.” She quirked an eyebrow, “Because hockey players are famously big on gossip.”

“Hey, we contain multitudes!” There was a hint of pink dusting his cheeks, flustered in a way she’s rarely seen him in the course of their short-lived relationship. 

“Okay, Mister Multitude,” she joked, playfully jabbing him in a shoulder with a gloved finger, “keep your secrets.”

They chatted for a while more, catching up like old friends rather than former lovers – which wasn’t that far off in their case – but soon it was time for Shane to rush to the stadium, leaving Rose alone with her thoughts. 

She never regretted her time with Shane, even going as far as to call the man her soulmate. But every time her mind strayed towards him, there was a cloud of grief marring her thoughts; for such a brilliant man to be forced to hide a big part of himself to keep himself afloat, his only chance at love stifled until he eventually leaves the public eye when he retires… It felt unfair, and in her heart she hoped one day he could declare his affections openly and without fear. For now, she was content being there for him, pretending to keep their romance alive.

Soon, it became apparent Rose should find someplace to warm up, so she made her way to the stadium herself as well, stopping to buy a delicious looking hot chocolate from the stand nearby. The marshmallows drowning in the drink reminded her of tiny shipwrecks suspended in the unfamiliar, chocolatey waters. She felt a peculiar connection form between her and the water lodged candy, so she put on the lid to hide it from view.

Once inside the stadium, a nice security guard helped her evade a group of overzealous fans – and teared up when she offered to leave an autograph for his grandkid.

“You’ve been great help, thank you” she said, waving him goodbye and settling in the semi-private sector of the stands. The air felt fresh with a slightly salty undertone, courtesy of the popcorn bucket someone left on the seat next to hers. On a seat Miles’ was supposed to take. Her stomach growled in interest, and Rose sunk deeper into her seat. “Great.”

Her phone vibrated with a new message from who she assumed must be Miles, so she reached out to get it from her bag with a sigh. On the screen, a short message lit up the screen, ‘Is she there yet?’, underneath 48 other unread messages from her friend. A popular song blared from the speakers dulled by the noise of hundreds of fans chatting amongst themselves and distracted her from scrolling up. She only registered reaching towards the popcorn bucket again once the salty butter hit her taste buds. “Oh shoot.” 

“You can eat some, I don’t mind sharing,” someone whispered right into her ear, Rose’s neck cracking unpleasantly when she twisted it to the side, met with a sight of brown curls and an impeccable eyeliner. Under all the salt of the popcorn, she got a hint of a distinct flowery smell. Something she only got to experience once before, but would recognise instantly even in the dead of night.

“I’m so sorry- Sveta?!” The apology was on her lips before her mind caught up to who appeared behind her.

Another ping made her look down on her phone, and a new message from Miles popped up on the screen, ‘have fun! :**’. Some days, she regretted ever becoming a celebrity, because getting rid of a body is so much harder when you have a camera pointed at you at every hour of the day.

“I can go, if you don’t want me here.” It was said in a joking manner, but Rose didn’t miss the twist in Sveta’s lips.

“No, no, stay!” she almost yelled, lowering her voice when she noticed a few heads turning their way. “Please, stay. Of course I’m happy to see you, it’s just–” Sveta blinked at her, an easy smile playing on her lips. The black jacket she wore stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the whites and blues of Metros. Anyone else would be anxious to venture into the rival team’s sector, but everything about Sveta told Rose that her new friend couldn’t care less what people thought. She swallowed and looked away, “–unexpected” she finished, making room for Sveta to sit next to her. “I didn’t expect to see you again.”

“Yeah, I was in the area.” Their knees bump into each other awkwardly as Sveta settled in her seat, ignoring the curious glances thrown her way from the few fans already waiting for the match to begin. On the ice, Rose could see Shane warming up and chatting to his teammates in one corner of the rink, while Raiders kept to the other. 

“If Miles didn’t want to come with me, he could’ve just said so.” 

While Miles liked the idea of watching a bunch of sweaty men compete for a puck for an hour, he didn’t share Rose’s admiration for the sport. She sighed, intent on shooting Miles a disappointed text. 

“You know how actors are…” Sveta teased, popping a popcorn piece into her mouth with a cheeky grin. “Such divas.” Her grin melted into something softer when she saw Rose’s pinched brows. “Hey, go easy on him, I texted him first when you told me you were going to the game. We swapped seats, so after the game he’s still up for those drinks you had planned while your boyfriend wallows in shame for losing to Ilyusha. But… I wanted– We haven’t actually seen each other in a while.”

The words ‘your boyfriend’ burned Rose from the inside in a way she didn’t expect, and she wondered what that meant for her – was she lying to herself and Shane when she told him she didn’t mind acting as his beard? It was something to dissect later, if at all, in the quiet of her own flat, without countless witnesses eager for any semblance of a crack in Shane’s – and Rose’s – façade. 

“That’s true.” Rose could feel her cheeks prickle with heat. “We haven’t.” 

They fell into comfortable silence while the stadium started to slowly fill up with people, their voices creating a cacophony of sounds and laughter. All Rose remembered from the game afterwards, was Sveta’s warm voice murmuring oddly accurate comments about each player, and the feeling of her thigh pressed flush with Rose’s.

The third time they saw each other, Rose was attending a charity auction with Miles; the cameras flashing around them, blinding her every time a shutter was pressed.

“Can we go now?” she asked through the clenched teeth, making sure her lips remained twisted in a semblance of a welcoming smile. Someone yelled her name, saying something she didn’t catch. She ignored a lot of the vulture’s requests recently, ever since someone spilled the beans Shane and her were no longer together. Next to her, Miles struck another pose, eliciting a few cheerful hollers from the press. “Please?”

The heat from the lamps was overwhelming, sweat coating her whole body even though the dress she chose for the occasion was paper thin, much like her patience tonight.

Miles’s hand settled on her waist, gently pulling her closer.

“They’ll never leave you alone if you don’t give them what they want,” he said in a low voice, showing off his pearly teeth is a killer smile. “You can’t avoid them forever.”

His grip on her was loose, which she appreciated, as it made twisting from his embrace rather easy.

“I can try,” she whispered, turning her back to him and starting towards the main hall. “I can certainly try.”

The invitation to the Irina Foundation Charity Auction came months before, along with a theme – ‘formal hockey’, whatever that meant. She had commissioned a simple dress made from Shane’s old shirt, and which she had to discard when the news of their breakup reached the press. If it were up to her, she’d still wear it, but unfortunately for her – and her wallet – her manager got it into his head she had to ‘make a statement’ and ‘divorce herself from Shane’s brand’. Therefore, she was left with a week and a half to find a replacement. After all, to everyone else they had broken up fairly recently, and not months before.

Her new dress might look pretty, but the thin fabric was borderline uncomfortable, certainly not something Rose would ever consider wearing if she had some say in it. It hugged her body in all the right places and left little to the imagination, but made her feel like an unsexy mannequin. The designer called it a ‘reimagining of the ice rink’; Rose called it a wardrobe malfunction waiting to happen. Still, he had the dress ready in days, even if it cost her an exorbitant amount of cash.

When she stepped inside the main room, away from the overwhelming chatter of the red – well, black in this case – carpet, she felt the tension in her shoulders lift slightly. She sent a quiet thanks to Shane – and Rozanov – for not allowing the vultures to spectate, even if she suspected one or two guests were just as eager to sell the sneakily taken photos to the highest bidder.

Looking around, she noticed a few familiar faces – hockey stars, fellow actors, entrepreneurs, directors and producers – but the hosts of the evening were nowhere to be seen. The room was enormous and on the right side of tacky, with hockey paraphernalia stuck on every possible surface and abstract ice sculptures at each end of the podium located in the middle of the room. 

Everyone seemed to have their own interpretation to the theme of the event. She noticed Scott Hunter and his nerdy boyfriend Kip opted for the full hockey player getup, which fit Kip surprisingly well, highlighting his sculpted silhouette. There appeared to be half a dozen people dressed as mascots, although Rose wasn’t sure if they were guests or entertainment. Of course, there were people who took the easy way out, glueing numbers of their favourite players on their backs like they were back in high school, sticking shit together just so they met the criteria of a presentation.

An actress she worked with a few times waved at her from the other side of the room, catching Rose’s attention. She stood by the snack bar in the company of a famous director dressed as a snow cone, and looked like she was having a decent time chatting to them. Rose nodded in greeting and then felt a warm hand on her shoulder.

Miles finally joined her, having ditched the press.

“Is he here?” asked Miles, eyes wandering around the room. “I thought he’d be the first one here, you know, since it’s his party.”

“I haven’t seen him tonight, but I’m sure he’ll be here soon, Shane would never let himself be late.” She didn’t mention that since the news of their relationship ending broke, Shane was basically unreachable. In his profession privacy was a scarcity, and she understood his need to lie low Out of the two of them, he got the shorter end of the stick, but the whole situation still left sour taste in Rose’s moth.

What hurt more was Sveta’s radio silence. Her friend texted her exactly once, to ask if the news was true, only to disappear for the next week and a half. In the quiet of her mind Rose wondered if losing her connection to hockey made Sveta no longer interested in remaining friends with her. The thought hurt, and was unfair towards Sveta, and yet Rose couldn’t stop those intrusive feelings from keeping her up at night, while an overwhelming pressure smothered her with doubt.

She’s never felt this way about any friend, and those complicated feelings made her anxious. It’s been this way since they first met, the quiet longing for something, the pull towards Sveta. It was like being under her spell.

“Maybe you’re right. Oh!” Miles grabbed her arm and twisted them both towards the stage. “Here he is. With Rozanov, at that. Isn’t it weird, seeing them together like this?” It was, at first, but Rose trusted Shane knew what he was doing.

Her ex-boyfriend  looked spectacular, dressed in an impeccable tuxedo with indigo undertones. He looked every bit uncomfortable, making Rose want to come over to talk to him, but then Rozanov leaned over to whisper something in his ear, a grin playing on his lips, and it was like all the tension left Shane’s body at once. Interesting.

Behind them–

“Oh.” 

Sveta looked ethereal, wearing a tight black dress with a slit cut impossibly high. It elongated Sveta’s legs and showed off the smooth planes of her skin while also doing a somewhat decent job at being relatively modest. Rose knew Sveta was fit, but the way the dress hugged her body, the way it moved with her like an extension of her body and how the light reflected off of it to light up Sveta’s eyes; at that moment Sveta wasn’t just pretty. She was breathtaking. 

And when she caught Rose’s gaze over the crowd– It felt like being set ablaze.

“He cleans up very nicely.”

“Uh huh. Yes.” There was a pressure in the pit of her stomach, pushing all air out of her lungs. Sveta was here, and staring right at Rose.

“Oh girl, you got it bad.”

Finally tearing her eyes off Sveta, Rose noticed Miles looking at her with a mix of playfulness and pity.

“What?” Her hair tickled her bare shoulders when she shook her head. “What were you saying?”

Something complicated flickered in his eyes before he turned towards the stage again. “I’m not touching that with a five-foot pole, thank you very much. But you might want to catch your girl before she does her disappearing act again.”

“What?”

She caught the flicker of Sveta just as she was rounding the corner. Miles called after her, but she was already halfway through towards the staff door, hyper-focused on getting to Sveta before she disappeared again.

It was easy to get lost in the myriad of corners in the backrooms of the place, what with bartenders and performers passing her at every chance. Their stares followed her as she reached a dead end, with Sveta’s curls nowhere in sight. Any other night she might have cared about being seen like this – frantic and out of breath – but now she was too preoccupied to even properly notice them.

What she took note of, was the lack of Sveta.

“Shit.”

A door opened to her right, and then a hand wrapped around her wrist, pulling her towards the darkness. The grip on her arm felt strong but not uncomfortable, and she could have shaken it if she wanted; it was the faint scent of flowers that stopped her from screaming her lungs out.

“Sveta,” she gasped once they were inside, the strap of her dress sliding from her shoulder, the dress clearly wasn’t made for the person wearing it to be dragged around. It tickled the sensitive skin there, making her shiver. Rose took a few steps backwards until her back hit the wall.

They stared at each other for a long moment, Rose both unwilling and unable to speak. She could feel Sveta’s heavy stare on her skin, her hungry eyes hovering over Rose’s body like a predator waiting for the right moment to pounce on its prey. Rose looked at Sveta’s in return, something hot and heavy twisting in her stomach. It didn’t feel like two estranged almost-friends meeting at a party; the tension between them was more akin to what she imagined hockey players felt during face-offs.

There was so much Rose wanted to say, to ask. Instead, she stared at Sveta as she leaned on the door, closing it with a soft click, and it felt like something final.

“I’m sorry.” The words were not what Rose expected to hear, her head snapping to meet Sveta’s eyes. “I didn’t mean to leave you alone like this.”

“I understand. It’s fine,” she lied, biting the inside of her cheek.

As if reading her mind, Sveta crossed the space between them with a soulful look. When her hands brushed Rose’s, her skin tingled under the feather-light touch. The dim light of the empty room didn’t hide the dark bruises under Sveta’s eyes visible even under the layers of make-up, and there was a furrow between her brows Rose yearned to smooth with her finger. “It’s not, and I’m so sorry. Ilyusha went a little off the rails after the news, and it took so much effort to calm him down.”

“Rozanov? Why?” But as soon as she asked that, it all came to her. How they came together, knuckles brushing, eyes sparkling with an inside joke. Shane’s admission. His radio silence in the recent months. “Oh. They’re… they’re together.”

“I think so.” Sveta’s voice was now barely a whisper, careful not to betray her friend’s secrets even in the deserted area. “He won’t tell me anything, but– He’s happy. As much as he can be, hiding the biggest part of himself.”

“And he’s… they are both afraid without me as a beard, someone will suspect the truth.”

“Exactly.” 

Rose swallowed. It was hard to focus for some reason, and the temperature in the tiny room seemed to rise, intent on boiling her alive.

“Is that why you befriended me?” She needed to know all the late nights, the secrets whispered into her phone, weren’t a lie. That at the end of the day she still had- “For him?”

A flicker of hurt passed through Sveta’s face before she said, “No, of course not. You’re like the hottest girl I know, and you’re one of the few people who can keep up with me. No, I wanted to get to know you for myself.”

“I am hot, thanks for noticing.”

Sveta’s eyes darkened, making Rose’s cheeks prickle with heat. “Oh, I noticed.”

“I…” With her mouth dry as sand and lungs filled with a blazing fire, it was suddenly very hard to think. “I think you’re very pretty too.” 

“Yeah?”

“And what will you do about that?”

The goal solidified in her mind, and she smiled shyly, “How about a date?”

She could see surprise in Sveta’s eyes, but before she had the chance to feel disappointed, Sveta mirrored her smile and pressed a hot kiss to Rose’s cheek, then trailed her lips slowly to her neck. “I like the sound of that.”

+1

“I expected something hockey related, if I’m being honest.”

Sveta raised her perfectly maintained eyebrow, “I can always take us to the stadium, if you want. I thought you’d enjoy some variety, apologies if it’s not up to your standards.”

The Sun warmed Rose’s skin, the grass soft even with a thick layer of blanket separating it from her hands. Sveta prepared a basket for them, filled to the brim with pastries and snacks, with a side of rosé wine. It was a perfect first-year anniversary.

“No, no!” Rose was ready to argue with Sveta until she noticed the devilish grin playing on her lips. “Oh, you weren’t serious.”

The sweetness of Sveta’s perfume felt overwhelming and yet so right when she got close to Rose, tongue darting to wet her chapped lips. She purred right into Rose’s ear, chuckling heavily when Rose shivered. “You look cute when you’re flustered, did you know that?”

Being in Sveta’s vicinity was like being pulled apart and stitched back up again, her heavy stare sending shivers down Rose’s spine. No one has made her feel like she wanted to crawl out of her own skin and settle in their chest, if only to listen to their heart’s rhythmical beats. Rose felt drunk on Sveta. She breathed in the rosy fragrance she came to know intimately in the past year. 

She settled her head on Sveta’s shoulder, loving the way Sveta’s body fit perfectly with hers. 

Never in a million years would she have guessed a chance encounter at the gym would lead to the best things that have ever happened to her, but their story made her believe in miracles.

“What are you thinking about?”

Rose played with a strand of Sveta’s hair, enjoying the way her locks twisted on her finger. “Nothing much. Us.”

Sveta held her gaze, her hands sliding off Rose’s shoulders to her waist, inching under Rose’s blouse with lazy intention. “Oh yeah?”

“I love you.”

The hand stilled for a beat before continuing, fingers drawing lazy circles on the exposed skin of Rose’s belly. When they kissed, she could feel Sveta’s smile against her lips. “The feeling is mutual.”