The Chez Llama, the place Aria spoke with affectionate, how Jose would don his salmon pink shirt, black tie and take her for dinner. Her mother believed it made the perfect place to take a lover or potential one. Rylan agreed, the opportunity to wine and dine Emilie; she accepted his proposal and, in his eyes, a happy ever after. Ziva’s stomach knotted, food had been a comfort, she believed nothing would put her off food, but she had felt nauseous after breakfast, worried Vicky would cancel their date. She pondered, looking at jobs that needed doing, the washing up, dusting, changing the bedsheets, none of it distracted. Vicky was all she could think about; they had continued to maintain a conversation by phone, their new jobs getting in the way of meeting, Ziva needed to pin a date, and that was tonight.
When the taxi arrived outside Vicky’s home, the woman standing outside made Ziva’s heart flip, hair extensions bundled atop her head, a few loose curls to frame her face. The slender figure hugged by the grey lace maxi dress, the upper half, sheer material with appropriate shadow detail kept Ziva’s imagination buzzed and lack jawed. Ziva felt underdressed, fidgeting with her hair, smoothing her dress; Vicky giggled shyly; she liked her outfit, reaching her hand squeezing, they would have a wonderful evening.
The definite chemistry bubbles as Ziva eases into face to face conversation; the butterflies settle with the second glass of wine. She cringed at the poor retelling of Rylan’s jokes; her brothers promise they would break the tension; at least Vicky was polite enough to laugh. Ziva chose her food carefully, nothing spicy or with significant use of garlic, choosing a lighter meal she knew would mean a late-night snack at home. A touch, fingers interlaced, excitement rush through silencing them until the waiter cleared his throat, interrupting the moment with dinner.
She hesitated as they stood to leave; Ziva wished she had nipped to the bathroom, refreshed, instead she remained lost in those green eyes and soft voice. Brushing a stray hair from her face, leaning forward, hoping Vicky would meet her. Ziva held her breath as her lips pressed against Vicky’s, electric; Ziva knew in that one moment, she wanted to kiss no other lips.
Life had given Ziva so much she loved her single life, friends, partying, nieces and nephews, the space to enjoy herself, spend time and money on her fur babies. Vicky changed everything with a kiss; Ziva crawled into bed, her snack forgotten; it was the fairytale in her mind she wanted to indulge; the wonderful evening she hoped to repeat.