(cottage- 2017 post-love confessions)
Shane is handing Ilya something. It looks like? a pair of shoes?
“Here,” Shane places the slipper things into ilya’s hands.
“What are these?” Ilya asks.
“Why do I wear shoes in the water?”
“Because otherwise your feet will get muddy and sandy and touch rocks and seaweed and gross stuff,” Shane explains.
“So? I will just wash them. After.”
“But it feels yucky? On your toes?”
“I will be okay Hollander.” He hands the shoes back to him.
Shane looks extremely wary. “But what if you get a scratch on your foot from a rock or a zebra mussel?”
“Oh no, not a scratch,” Ilya says, voice dripping with sarcasm.
Shane makes his ‘disgruntled frown’ face, which of course makes Ilya’s heart go all mushy.
“Fine. I will wear the shoes. Give.”
Shane looks at him like he suspects Ilya is about to chuck the shoes into the lake, never to be seen again.
“Shane, moya lyubov,” Ilya tries. “I am going to wear these stupid water shoes for you so I do not get cuts. Give them to me.”
Shane gets this soft look in his eyes. “What does that mean? Moya Loo-Bof”
He butchers the pronunciation, but Ilya knows what he means. He didn’t necessarily mean for Russian the term of endearment to slip out, but it did, naturally. His entire face blushes red.
“My love,” he mumbles, scared, even after their confessions last night, that he’s spooked shane off.
It’s Shane’s turn to turn red at that, but he has a small smile on his face. “Put the shoes on, idiot,” he orders, affectionately.
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