Stay

eleven.

Aaliyah knew she would wake up alone. This wasn't one of those fairy tales where a night of bliss would find her the next morning, hair tangled, wrapped up in her lover's arms.

For one, they weren't lovers. The word itself, love, had no place in their situation. Secondly, they didn't have sex.

Did they want to? Yes. The way his body, the way her body, reacted to each other's touch made the truth painfully obvious. The timing though. The timing was all wrong. Aaliyah was no fool. She knew a part of her vulnerable state was because of what transpired and she didn't want the first time she had sex to be because she almost died.

She wasn't waiting for "the perfect moment," but rather the right moment.

So when she woke up alone, but still in his bed, she offered no reaction.

Instead, she sat up and stretched. Releasing a sigh, she looked around the room and blushed as last night's activities rushed back to the forefront of her mind. They might not have sealed the deal, but the intimacy between the two was more than what she had shared with any other man.

Again, she reminded herself that Oliver was unlike any other man she had dealings with.

Ambling her way across the plush carpet, Aaliyah used the bathroom and grabbed a new toothbrush. She grinned sheepishly when she noticed the brand new bar of Dove soap and went on to wash her face.

Drying off her face, it took a second for her to take her eyes off the mirror. It had been so long since she had gone without the veil. The feeling was still foreign, yet fulfilling. A sense of freedom was present. She felt like she was able to breathe, and not just physically, but emotionally.

The smile stayed on her face as she shook her head, an abundance of curls flying all over the place. She most definitely had to wash her hair as the ringlets were frizzed and a redo was the only option she had to tame her long tresses.

Aaliyah hit the switch to turn the light off and raised a brow when she saw who was sitting on the chair in front of the desk. His back was toward her, but she could see the phone in his head and hear the irritation in his voice. His voice elevated in volume as he spoke in Russian and while she was not fluent in the language, it was pretty obvious he was berating the person on the other end.

She took her time as she made her way over by him and stood behind the chair. Her arms naturally fell on either side of him, her hands moving to his shoulders. He offered no reaction to her touch, but she paid that no mind. In front of him was a laptop with an open email and message.

I need more time to translate it. Unfortunately, the art of Quracan language was not a course offered at MIT.

Aaliyah frowned. MIT? Nevertheless, when she overheard Felicity leave Oliver's mouth, she put two and two together.

He clearly needed something translated and Felicity, apparently, was unable to get the job done.

Felicity was wicked smart, but Aaliyah could understand her difficulty. Quracan, like Bialyan, was a difficult language to master. However, Aaliyah's native language and the language in question were very similar.

She looked over the desk and grabbed a notepad and pen. Moving to his side, she bent over and began to write. A blush crept on her face when he casually pulled her down on his lap.

As soon as she was done writing, she flashed the note in front of his face.

I can translate it for you.

He quipped a brow, but shifted the phone so he was holding it with his shoulder and face. A few clicks later and he pulled up a document written in Quracan. Aaliyah chewed on her bottom lip and went to work. There were a few words she had difficulty with, but in less than 7 minutes, she completed the whole thing. When she was done, she handed him the notepad.