"I think you should stop being so mean to me, Zahed."
"Why would I ever do that?"
Aryan grins, a bright, wicked thing.
"Because I kiss you like this."
•
Mira Zahed and Aryan Shankar are at war.
When her best friend and his cousin decide to fall in...
there's some explicit sexual content in this chapter. if you're a child or uncomfy, this is your warning. ♥ ♥ ♥
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♥ ♥ ♥
I FUCKED UP.
I know I fucked up.
The afternoon of my argument with Zahed was punctuated with me slamming my way into the house, hair sticky and damp with coffee. I'd pulled my shirt off, held the stained fabric in a fist before dropping it into the trash in a ball.
Kenna found me standing like that in the kitchen, palms braced on the edge of the island, shoulders heaving. I was furious.
I'm even sure who I was madder at. Zahed— God, she was so easy to fucking be pissed at— or myself?
I don't think I've ever spoken to anyone like that in my entire life. I've never raised my voice that way. She pushes all the wrong buttons, turns my blood to pure fire. I don't even know who I am anymore when she starts to talk.
Not even an ice-cold shower, washing sticky coffee from my hair and skin, got rid of that hot fury coiled deep at the very pit of my stomach. It flared and flared and I was still fuming beneath the shower's spray.
Zahed hadn't even punched me. Yet I felt it. Like a blow resounding at the very centre of my chest.
Water cascading down in an icy stream down onto my head, I'd pressed a hand to the centre of my chest, against that imaginary wound. But she hadn't touched me at all. She'd just screamed at me. And thrown her coffee at me.
God, she is a real piece of work.
When I'd climbed out of the shower, my jaw was tight, my hand a tight fist on my towel as I dried myself off, shaking water droplets from my hair. I passed a glaring reflection of myself into my room. And though I'd just taken a shower in ice water, my skin was hot. Insufferably hot. I was still mad.
I didn't leave my room for the rest of the day.
When the morning came, I hadn't even moved from the spot on my bed I'd fallen onto after my shower. I hadn't even brushed my hair. And I was still mad.
I didn't have any classes that day, which left me more time with my thoughts. Except, they weren't my thoughts. No, they were Mira Zahed's words replaying over and over in my head, the hot flash of her eyes right before she threw coffee at me haunting me.
Herrera left me alone most of the day, appearing occasionally to taunt me.
Even my irritation with Raf and his usual biting remarks was nothing next to the constant blazing anger I felt every time Zahed drifts to the forefront of my mind.
