Serious in Love ✔

22- "Get the fuck out of my life."

New cover credits goes to
xo_cookie_life_xo
Thanks for the amazing cover. 😊
.

22- “Get the fuck out of my life.”

« VANSH »

“Vansh.”

I struggled to open my eyelids, trying to recognize the owner of the voice who called my name. It was hard to see beyond my cloudy vision. What just went down in a few hours? All I remember was Natasha, Irfan, and I, having drinks. I was lying on something very soft and comfortable, which meant I was indoors.

Just then, I felt the mattress sink beneath the weight of the someone. I blinked my eyes repeatedly as to clear out the fog in my vision. Eventually, I was able to make out a curvy figure in a pink lingerie. It was the same lingerie I remember seeing Natasha in, after our drunk episode. Gosh, even the room smelled of her. The dim lights reflected on her as she looked down on me. Somehow the background seemed even whiter than usual, making her silhouette shine. In the midst of the brightness, my hand reached out to her, my fingers caressing the tresses of her silky hair, then sliding down to her neck and further. She closed her eyes, silently basking in my touch. Slowly, she opened her grey orbs to stare down at me with the kind of vulnerability that made me desire her right away. There was a moment of stillness between us until I pulled her down.

Our faces did collide, our lips did connect. I swore I could taste her but the bloody fog was too foggy for my eyes to capture. Before I could fully grasp of what was truly happening, blotches of dark spots reigned over. Soon, I became a victim to it.

.

I swiveled my head left and right after jolting my eyes open. Nothing. There was nothing. I raised my sheet to peek under it and let out a grunt of disgust at what I saw. If not anything, then, atleast I was glad to be lying alone, in my own bed.

So I'm having her dreams now, too? Great, just great!

It became even more frustrating when I saw Natasha at work, though I didn't try to bring it to my face. Keyword being, tried. After work, Irfan invited me out to have dinner. Anything to keep my stupid mind busy. I readily agreed.

Around the time when we grabbed a seat at some Italian restaurant, someone tapped my shoulder. I mentally prayed, hoping it wasn't who I thought it was.

“Evening boys,” Natasha greeted, placing her handbag on the empty chair. “Sorry, I kinda got derailed by a fancy women shop on my way. Hope I'm not too late.”

“No, you were lucky cos we got late too. Anyways, pick your order.”

“You invited her? I thought it was a bro night!” I couldn't hide the irritation off my voice.

“Well, she messaged me where we were. Coincidentally, she was outside too, so why not.” Irfan shrugged nonchalantly.

There's no such thing as coincidence with her, you dumbass. She motherfucking creates them. Moreover, she hadn't left her hand from my shoulder. “Come on Vansh, can't you let me fill in your bet— Ahem, I mean, fill in between you two. Meanwhile, I'll check the menu,” she said, bending down to my level to view the menu that laid at the side of my table. She flipped the page to the dinner section. “Let's see what we have here. There's Focaccia bread, Margarita pizza, Vegetable Ravioli, Arrabiata sauce pasta... ” Her voice fanned against my ears as she rolled out her tongue in Italian (partially). I clenched my jaw. How ironic. When she pulled the same move in the office months ago, I didn't feel anything but now, it was an entirely different story. Admit it, you enjoy her attention.