"no, oscar, i can get my own suitcase." she insisted as they both went to the luggage carousel in heathrow airport's terminal five.
"nope. if i'm here, you're not doing anything. what kind of boyfriend makes his girl carry her stuff when he's right there to do it for her?" he picked her pink suitcase off the conveyor belt with ease.
he held his black one behind him with one hand and hers in the other.
"you're so taylor swift coded." she thought out loud as they exited the terminal to the car park together.
"that's a compliment, right?" he questioned.
"definitely. like, in a world of boys you're a gentleman." she explained.
"i love when you say stuff like that even though i won't understand any of it. it's cute." he piled the suitcases into the back of the mclaren waiting for them.
this one was a bit roomier to accommodate for the extra baggage, so there was no struggle in getting the bags in.
"so, um, i have to speak to you about something." she began as he got onto the motorway.
"what's up?" his eyebrows knotted together in slight confusion.
"my mum wants you to meet the family again. as my boyfriend. she didn't like the stunt we pulled in insta. so she's pretending she doesn't know and we have to tell her. she's a bit dramatic, i know, but we live with it." she explained.
"oh god, i don't think your dad would've liked that. does he still like me? oh no, what if he hates me now?" he rambled.
"it's fine. he was a bit pissed, but he'll be fine. he doesn't hate you." she reassured.
"so, when are they coming?" he asked, trying to calm himself down.
"tomorrow." she dropped the bombshell.
"tomorrow?" he exclaimed.
"yes. and they want to go to your place." another bombshell.
"my place is an absolute mess!"
"it's fine, what we'll do is we'll stop by mine now, i'll get all my cooking stuff, some of my clothes, i'll chuck some of the suitcase stuff in the wash and then we'll go to yours and clean up and sort everything out. deal?" she planned.
"deal."
***
they stuck to their schedule, and ria got to oscar's house with all her stuff. she helped oscar pick out the right clothes this time so he didn't look like a mug, and made the food for the next day in advance.
she'd decided on a chicken curry and a chickpea curry, with rice.
"why the fuck does my dad have to like the hardest food to make? i've got to soak these chickpeas for, like, twenty years before i have to cook them." she got frustrated.
"don't worry, calm down, we can do it. is there anything else i can do to help?" he sat her down on the island countertop, standing in the gap between her legs.
"no, it just needs to sit and cook itself from now on." she mumbled into his hair.
"okay, i don't wanna look like an idiot tomorrow, so what do you call these?" he tried to change the topic slightly.
"the chickpeas are sholay, because they're white. the black ones are called chane. if it's one singular bean it's called a chana. it's complicated." she explained.
