Summary:

December 23, 2008
“Freckles?” He askes and points to the dots on his cheekbones. Ilya nods in agreement and commits the word freckles to memory. “You like my freckles.” The blush is back when Shane realizes what he said.
Ilya has the sudden thought that this moment is important, a voice in his head that might sound like his mother, or might be his own that says, don’t fuck this up, not this one. Ilya decides very suddenly that he is going to listen, and against every instinct ingrained in him, decides to be honest.

June 27, 2009
“You forget English again, Rozanov? Are my vesnushki that distracting?”
Ilya laughed, caught off guard. “So you know Russian now, Shane Hollander?”