I'm dragging my feet by the time I get to Haider's house that afternoon. My head hurts, all the lights are too bright, and every sound is practically a bomb going off inside my head. I don't even bother knocking, their expecting me anyway, I just let myself in and go straight to the kitchen. The house is empty. Haider isn't home yet, Zia is probably getting ready for dinner upstairs (if her daily routine is still the same), and I don't really care where Dastan is. I seat myself at the kitchen island, send off a quick text to Haider and Emma letting them know I'm here and then I bury my head in my hands and pray for a swift death.
I spent the entire day going from meeting to meeting, functioning on a solid two hours of sleep. I feel frazzled. It didn't help that I also had multiple deadlines to meet today and instead of heading home for a much deserved nap, my wonderful friends have decided to make plans for my night. They wouldn't hear a word against it, either. I hate this.
"Birthday blues?" a voice sounds from behind me, I don't have to look to know it's Dastan. I don't raise my head or acknowledge him beyond the very unladylike grunt I let slip past my lips. He snickers. I hear movement and assume he's walking further into the room. I really can't be bothered but I'm also especially aware of his presence. "Wanna talk about it? " He hedges. There's a strange quality to his voice, it sounds a little forced.
With my head still resting atop my folded arms on the counter, I respond; "Not particularly, no."
"Can't be worse than when you fell into your own birthday cake." He offers immediately, and my head shoots up in surprise. He's smirking when I meet his gaze. "Is it that bad?" he raises a brow.
Grudgingly, I admit; "No," I can feel my lips pulling into a childish little pout and try to keep my expression as neutral as possible. I don't think I do a very good job because he just smirks some more. "In my defense it's pretty damn close."
"Why do you look like you've got one foot in the afterlife?" He asks, walking closer and leaning against the counter next to me. I watch as he crosses his arms and leans his weight against them on top of the counter. I remember what it felt like when he had those arms around me.
No. No, no, no… that's not what I should be thinking off right now.
"Gosh, thanks. That's what every girl wants to hear." I say, trying for levity. I need to keep things between us as PG as possible. I'm not sure how I'm going to do that when every time I look at him I think about what it felt like when he was kissing me, but I intend to try.
He winces, "Sorry, I'm just wondering." I hum a low sound of agreement and put my head back on the counter. He chuckles again and then bumps his shoulder against mine. "Alright, enough sulking it's your birthday!"
I turn my head slightly to the side and give him a suspicious look, "Why are you being nice to me right now?" I'm way too tired to care about being polite and it's no secret that he's been less than pleasant to me recently. He scratches at the back of his neck and looks away from my eyes sheepishly.
"Well, you can't be mean to someone on their birthday," he shrugs. At my unconvinced look he adds; "Even Voldemort didn't try to kill Harry on his birthday… they're sacred days." He finishes solemnly. Another shrug, he's uncomfortable and he won't look at me. That means he's scared of whatever it is he thinks I'm going to see in his expression.
Best to play it safe, "Yes, but comparing you to Voldemort would be an insult to Voldemort." He snorts and moves around the counter toward the other side of the kitchen. I just watch him, not sure what to expect. I don't know how to behave around him, the last time I saw him he basically mauled me in the living room and then told his father it meant nothing and now he's being downright friendly. He's playing some kind of game.
"So," he begins, pouring a mug of coffee and turning to me. He places it on the counter in front of me; black with no sugar, just how I like it. "We should probably talk… "And there it is.
"About what?" I'm a coward. I take a sip of my coffee just to avoid having to look at him again. I stare into my cup and refuse to meet his eyes.
After a long beat of silence he says, "Look, about what happened with us…" then stops. "I just think that…" He blows out an exaggerated breath and now I'm too curious not to look at him.
He's leaning against the counter across from me, both of his hands locked on the back of his neck and his head tilted back staring at the ceiling in frustration. I bite back a smile, he's flustered. It's cute.
Nope, we are not going there. "Yes…" I prompt slowly, like I'm speaking to someone who doesn't understand English. He looks at me, narrowing his eyes in annoyance and I smile my most charming smile.
"What I'm trying to say is…" he stops, takes a breath and I'm trying my best not to laugh. This man wouldn't have a problem throwing himself between me and a bullet but talking to me about a kiss is too much for him. "You know what I mean."
I take a sip of my coffee to hide my smile, then say; "Uhm, no. I really don't." He sighs, clearly irritated with his inability to articulate his thoughts and I think it's pretty adorable.
"Okay, look. We kissed and now it's awkward." He rushes out in one breath, dropping his hands to his sides and then sliding them into his pockets. "It shouldn't be because it was just a kiss but obviously, there's history here and it's brought up a lot of stuff for the both of us." He looks at me then. "Probably." Has it brought up a lot of stuff for him? "I guess I'm just trying to say that I don't want you to feel like I expect anything from this."
"Why would I? We said it was just a product of cabin fever and a heated argument, right?" At this, he grits his teeth. His jaw works for a second and its too quick for me to catch what it is but an emotion flashes briefly across his face before he wipes it clean. I think it might be annoyance.
"Right." He nods. He looks tense all of a sudden. I try to figure out what could've caused that reaction but I don't think I've said anything particularly upsetting, have I? "So, truce?"
That's unexpected, I mean sure he's being nice but I'm pretty sure Dastan doesn't know how to be neutral with me. It's either he loves me or he hates me. That's just the way it is, there's never been a grey area with him. "I don't know, Dastan, is that really a good idea?" He opens his mouth to respond but I keep speaking, "The last time we tried this we proved that we can't be civil to one another without either ending up in a massive argument or trying to eat each others faces off." At that I jerk my thumb toward the living room so he knows what I'm referring to. His eyebrows fly up in shock, and then the apples of his cheeks darken slightly. He's blushing? Now it's my turn to be shocked, I've never seen Dastan blush. Not once in all the years I've known him.
He clears his throat, "What I'm talking about here is wiping the slate clean and starting fresh. We pretend like everything that happened three years ago didn't happen and we try to be friends."
"Can we do that?" I'm genuinely curious to hear his answer. I don't have much to look past but he'll have to forgive me for everything I said to him back then. That's going to be a lot harder than just tolerating me for the sake of babysitting his sister.
"We're both adults and we've both grown in the last three years. Or at least, I'd like to think I have. So, I'm sure we can do this." He says, walking around the counter he plants himself next to me and turn to him. I've got to lean back to be able to see his face. He reaches out a hand, "So, what do you say? Friends?" I watch his hand for a second, afraid that this is some kind of trick. Could it really be that easy? Maybe it could. I reach out and give his hand a shake, ignoring the way my skin tingles from the contact. This can end one of two ways: we both make this work and go back to the way we were before we started dating or it crashes and burns and we both break each other to pieces. Either way, it's going to be one hell of a ride.