DPOV

Of course she had followed me here. Why am I surprised? She follows me around like a little lost puppy back in Baia, how could I possibly think that I could escape her obsession by moving half way around the world?

Tasha had been one of my best friends before it had become apparent that her feelings for me extended far beyond friendship. Along with my best friend Ivan we had all grown up together. Maybe I should have taken a play out of Ivan's book and become a complete man whore, then maybe I wouldn't be in this incredibly awkward situation.

Coming to America to stay with Ivan had seemed like a fool proof plan. Tasha's family would never have let her follow me, had her bloody nephew not moved into town less than a month ago, after I had decided to make the move here, and ruin my perfectly good plan. She now had a reason to follow me. The pretence of coming to make sure he younger nephew, by barely a year, was settling in okay.

So here I am, walking down the main street of a small town in the middle of nowhere, trying to decide if I should stay or run. Ivan, being in the hungover state that he is, got sick of my pacing of his lounge room. I was 'ruining a perfectly expensive rug' and therefore should take my pacing outside. I see the neon sign of a bar coming up on my right. St Vladimir's, what a bizarre name for a bar. Beer, or any alcohol for that matter, seems to be a perfectly acceptable choice given my circumstances.

I walk inside to an almost empty place. It is as expected, at one end there appears to be a small stage for bands with a vacant space allocated for dancing and the other holds a few pool tables and tables. At the back of the room, a bar with a single occupant typing away furiously at a laptop. Her head moves up to look in the mirror behind the bar at the sound of my entrance but she makes no other move to indicate she intends to step away from her laptop as I approach her and the bar.

As I pass her the typing halts and she appears to save whatever it is she is doing before taking a sip out of the glass sitting on the bar next to her.

"I know you".

Her voice startles me. I turn towards her and am taken back by what I see. Deep brown eyes are looking at me curiously. Her brow creased as if she is thinking hard. Her long brunette hair is tied up into a pony tail.

"I'm sorry?"

"I know you. Your face, it's rather familiar".

"Oh, yes. My cousin lives here. We look very similar. His name is…"

"Ivan. I can see it now. And your name is?"

"Dimitri".

She gestures towards herself and replies.

"Rose. So what brings you here so early in the day Comrade?"

"Comrade?" I ask. That's a new one I think to myself.

"Yer, Comrade. I have nicknames for all my friends", she replies like its the most obvious thing in the world. This girl is definitely a breath of fresh air.

"And I get Comrade?"

"Well, yer, your Russian, so comrade it is."

"What about Ivan? He's Russian."

"He's P.B-2."

"P.B 2?"

"Playboy 2. So you going to answer my question?"

"I was hoping for a drink, but the bar tender seems to be elsewhere."

Rose smiles at me and I'm not going to lie, I feel a little dazzled. She moves from her seat on my side of the bar and walks around until she is standing adjacent from me behind the bar.

"What can I get you Comrade? Beer? Or perhaps something a little stronger and closer to home, Vodka?"

"Look at that, bar tenders back. I'll take a beer. Heineken if you have it."

"Not a worry. So, I understand that you're Russian, and your guys are crazy when it comes to drinking… But I must say, 10.30am is even a bit early for Ivan and his boys. What's the story, Comrade?"

"You going to play psychologist for me Rose? Be the helpful bar tender that lends me her ear, sagely advise and age old wisdom?"

"If you need it."

I don't know why, as I'm not one to usually talk to complete strangers about my personal life but I begin to tell her my story.

"I live in my families hometown of Baia in southern Siberia. Ivan hailed from there. We grew up together as boys before his family moved here to the States. An old family friend, Tasha, she grew up with us. Practically my best friend besides Ivan."

I take a sip of my Heineken and at this point Rose decides to take this moment to interrupt.

"Let me guess, she's in love with you and you don't feel the same. So after rejecting her, she begun stalking you, and scaring off any potential women back home, you decided to escape her grasp by moving all the way out here to live with Ivan, only to have her follow you in a desperate attempt for you to realise that she is your perfect match in every way and you just can't see it."

I must have stared at her blankly for at least a minute. Okay, what the hell? Have I just found myself another stalker?

"Okay, that's a little creepy. Ivan told you?"

"No Tasha. She was in here getting wasted last night telling anyone who would listen to her, her grand sob story. Plus I'm friends with her nephew Christian and his girlfriend Lissa, who she is crashing with at the moment. Gotta tell you Comrade, you dodged a bullet with that one. Certifiable I tell ya."

Perfect. Tasha once again proving to not understand the whole we are only friends, and will only ever be friends thing.

"Perfect. Glad my personal life is gossip for the whole town. And she isn't that bad, she just needs to realise that we are just friends and nothing more."

"You are too nice Comrade. Even Christian is trying to get her parents to force her home to get evaluated and he normally thinks the sun shines out of her arse."

I can't help but laugh and her bluntness.

"Don't sugar coat things do you?"

"No time for that Comrade. We only live once. Not gonna try and polish a turd, only for it to still be a turd."

We are both silent for a little bit, but it isn't an awkward silence, it's oddly comfortable. Rose returns back around the bar and takes her seat again at her laptop. My curiosity gets the better of me.

"What are you writing up? An assignment for college?"

"No. Not attending any college at the present time. Money is tight and college is expensive."

"So what where you typing furiously away at when I walked in the door?"

"A draft for my first novel attempt."

She wants to be a writer.

"What's it about?"

She turns towards me with a rather deadpanned look on her face before she answers.

"Vampires."

I instinctively cringe before I quickly change my face to a neutral tone. Please God, not another Twilight-esk teen novel for me to listen to my little sister prattle incessantly about. Rose must have seen it because she snorts before continuing.

"I'm kidding Comrade. No need to look so unimpressed. Its target group is young adult not going to lie but it has nothing to do with vampires I promise."

"Thank god. So over that drawn out fad. I have a little sister and if I here the words Team Edward or Jacob ever again it'll be too soon. So if it's not about the creatures of the night then what?"

"It's heavily influenced by the TV shows Nikita and Alias. I've always loved the idea of secret government conspiracy theories. So the basis is that my heroine is a young girl living a normal life only for it to come out that she's actually a billion dollar government funded weapon/assassin that escaped the training facility. It's all really rough and I only have a basic plan down at the moment with bits and pieces written up."

"Sounds intriguing. Will there be a love interest?"

And there's that smile again, although this time it also includes though deep brown eyes looking up at me seductively. Heaven help me I may be in trouble.

"Maybe. Perhaps a dark haired Russian who is secretly his government's equivalent sent to bring her down but they fall in love and decide to fight together against injustice and corruption."

"Dark haired Russian hey? Do I get royalties?"

"Who said it was you? I was thinking of Ivan."

She stares at me with an eyebrow raised and a smirk on her face. I return it with a grin of my own, causing Rose to purse her lips in an attempt to prevent her own toothy grin and she looks down at the laptop in front of her.

"Well, I should let you continue with your novel writing. Don't want to keep you from writing about your heroine's dark haired Russian love. What do I owe you for the beer?"

"It's on the house. Think of it as a welcome to town present."

"No, I must insist. I don't want you to get in trouble from the bar's owner or for you to be out of pocket from tips or wages."

"I'm pretty sure the owner will be cool with it since the owner is me. It's my families bar. I inherited it when my folks passed a few years back. You're all good. Plus with the way Ivan and his boys drink, they alone will keep me in business for years to come."

"Well, I guess I'll see you round?"

"Absolutely Comrade. It's a small town. You couldn't escape me even if you tried."

"The thought never even crossed my mind. Good day, my dear Roza."

"Roza? Forgotten my name already Comrade?"

"Never. Roza is the Russian equivalent of Rose. You're not the only one who has nicknames for their friends."

I send her a wink before turning and exiting the bar. I make my way slowly back to Ivan's my mind still on the petite brunette back in St Vladimir's. Maybe staying won't be such a bad thing after all. Rose doesn't seem the type to be scared off by Tasha's flare for dramatics and stalker-ish tendencies. Plus maybe this will help Tasha finally realise that I'm not interested in her that way and I can have my best friend back. Either way, my life is about to get a whole lot more interesting with the beautiful Roza becoming the centre of it.