This Heart of Mine

Ch. 26: A Kiss, A Memory and A Doughnut

SMACK

The sound of a bird hitting the window and squawking confusedly jarred Naina awake. It continued to scream loudly for a few more seconds before taking off and smacking a tree nearby.

After calming her thudding heart, she surveyed the room.

This definitely wasn't her place. It was too neat and plain. There was a computer table with a decent-sized laptop running on it. Clothes hung on the door or stacked away in the closet, which she could barely see into. A thick, black fluffy rug decorated the floor beneath the bed.

"I'm guessing you had a good night's rest?"

Ian stood at the door of the room, leaning against the frame. His hair stuck up on one side, while flattened on the other like someone took a roller and manhandled his head. He kept rubbing his neck and through the space between him and the wall, she saw a pillow and small blanket on the sofa.

"Why am I here?" she asked.

He raised an eyebrow and let out a small laugh. "You really don't remember what happened last night?"

"Last night? But that was a dream—"

Visions of her hugging him tightly, sniffing him like she was some kind of pervert, being a complete brat to him and asking to make out ran over her mind, combusting it into bits and pieces.

She took a pillow, stuffed her face into it and screamed for five seconds. The muffled roar burned into the silk fabric, but she continued until all the air had left her lungs.

How could she have done that? He was going to think she was weird.

Oh god. What if he tells everyone?

"Naina," he said.

She took a momentary break in venting her embarrassment and faced him. He'd seen her at her worst; in her head, it couldn't get any more horrible could it?

He didn't look smug; he looked worried, with those upturned eyebrows and cautious gaze. "First of all, are you feeling alright? Do you need a pain med?"

She shook her head no. Her head was throbbing with pain from embarrassment but there wasn't a cure for that. "No, nothing needed. I'm fine."

"So, you're sober?"

"I guess so?"

He nodded his head and moved forward to sit down cross-legged in front of her. He took her hands and gripped them in a firm, but gentle way. Every now and then, his thumb would graze across the back of her palms. "Can we talk about last night?"

"I'm so sorry for being so—"

"Cute? You were pretty cute last night. And giggly, happy, and excited." He smirked when she squirmed and held onto her hands tight. The heat from his slithered up her limbs and into her face, where it settled like snow in the park on a winter day.

"You sure you're not confusing that for annoying?"

He nodded. "Not confusing it at all. I told you I liked you didn't I? I didn't find you annoying at all. I've seen worse drunks."

Oh right. That'd happened. "Um well—"

"Now, because you're sober—"

What was he going to ask? She wasn't ready; what else had she blabbered out while being drunk?

"—You want to kiss?"

Her brain, or what was left of it, frizzled into a small ball and she drew a blank. "Huh?" she breathed.