Chapter Three: Older Men & The Realization Of Such

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I wish I wasn't making my attraction towards Kirill as clear as I was

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I wish I wasn't making my attraction towards Kirill as clear as I was.

But I couldn't help it.

I watched him as he drove, and a voice in my head told me that I didn't care if he noticed. But the more logical part of my brain told me I did in fact care, and it would only come to bite me in the ass later.

He kept one hand on the steering wheel, the other on the gearshift. The snake tattoo on the top of his hand captured my attention for a while, but ultimately it was back on him, the way he was sitting, the clenched muscle of his jaw. He drove with an expertise of excellence and elegancy, his movements slow as he shifted gears and turned around corners with one hand.

The tattoos on his neck were clearer now, yet I could only see shapes and colours and nothing more. He had thin black hoops in his ears, a tattoo on the outer cartilage of his ear.

But it was when he definitely noticed me staring that I felt uncomfortable for the first time. His black sunglasses casted a black shadow against his pearly blue eyes, and his blinks were slow and he didn't move much.

I was in the process of drawing my eyes over the outline of his sharp jaw when he turned his head and looked at me, and I turned mine twice as quick forward. I bent my head with an embarrassed smile, because from the corner of my eye, I could see a slow smile form across his mouth too.

"Mind if I smoke?"

"Huh?"

He arched a brow at the road, "Excuse me, you mean,"

I nodded sheepishly, "Yes, sorry. Yeah, you can," he reached backwards, opened the compartment between us and pulled out a white packet of cigarettes. He tapped the butt of it on his knee first, then turned it around and put it between his lips.

I watched as his large hand practically engulfed the gold lighter. He flicked it open and a bright yellow flame popped out, and he inhaled a cherry on the end of the white stick before tossing the lighter into the compartment in front of him, switched hands and tipped it.

"Uh, can I ask you something? If you don't mind?"

There was a short beat of silence before he spoke with few words yet they managed to crash against my chest and send a blush to my cheeks.

"Yes, Dream. You may,"

I cleared my throat and licked my lips as I willed the words to pass between my lips, "How do you know papa?"

Another beat of silence, but his mouth curled into a gentle smile at the road and not at me. "Your grandfather and my father used to be friends before they passed. Your father and I were forced to be friends although he's a few years older than I am. We had business a few years ago and I have yet to leave London,"

"Oh, where are you originally from?"

"New York."

"Ooh, I've always wanted to go. Is it what I imagine it to be?"

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