"We're going to get caught!" I silently shrieked, but he just smiled mischievously.
"Isn't this your secret fantasy? A guy... no, the guy you like, climbing through your window to your bedroom and—"
I quickly covered his mouth with my hand, heat rising in my cheeks. I was already burning with embarrassment. Why had I even confided in him? I internally huffed, frustrated by his teasing. The thrill of the moment mixed with the panic made my heart race.
I had always been aware of my two enemies in relation to the man beneath me: my mind, with its carefully constructed walls, and my treacherous heart. Yet, somehow, I managed to overlook the latter, which seemed to conspire against me with every flutter. It was as if my heart possessed a will of its own, betraying me with each thundering beat.
The relentless struggle between my rational mind and infatuated heart made dealing with him all the more challenging. Just as I was about to withdraw my hand from his mouth, he seized my wrist, yanking me toward him. I found myself falling against his chest.
Time seemed to stand still as I gazed into his eyes, lost in the depths of their mesmerizing allure. If someone had told me we would find ourselves in such a compromising situation, I would never have believed it.
Me sprawled on him, my hand, on his chest while his heart raced beneath my touch. I could feel the warmth of his body against mine, and in that moment, all rational thoughts vanished.
I just wanted the time to freeze and for us to stay in that moment forever, wrapped in each other's embrace. But..
"Gosh, I missed you," he breathed, his voice slicing through the thick silence that enveloped us like a heavy fog.
Every syllable dripped with longing, igniting a fire within me that threatened to consume us both. My heart raced in response, each beat echoing his confession.
"I missed your smile. Your quick wit—the way you always know how to make me laugh," he continued, his words wrapping around me like a warm embrace, unraveling my carefully constructed barriers. A shiver coursed through me, leaving me breathless.
"I missed your gentle touch, the way you make me feel alive. Being apart has been unbearable, a relentless ache in my chest. I can't stop thinking about all the moments we've lost, all the things we could have shared. But now that we're together again, I never want to let go."
His fingers tangled in my hair, tugging me closer, his breath warm and electrifying against my lips. I felt a heat rising in my cheeks, a mix of vulnerability and yearning surging through me. My pulse quickened as I fought to steady myself, overwhelmed by the depth of his gaze.
The space between us crackled with tension, thick and charged, every heartbeat echoing the unspoken desire that hung in the air. I was on the precipice, teetering on the edge of something inevitable—a kiss that would change everything.
"This isn't fair," I whispered, my voice barely breaking the heavy silence.
"I know," he murmured, his breath warm against my cheek, igniting a flutter of emotions deep within me.
"You lied to me." I closed my eyes, leaning my forehead against his, desperate for clarity amid the chaos.
"I know," he admitted, both his hands framing my face, grounding me even as everything felt unsteady.
"I messed up big time, and I'd do anything to make it right. I wanted to tell you everything, but you made me feel so alive again that I got scared," he confessed, his vulnerability wrapping around us like a fragile thread.
"I never wanted to hurt you," he continued, his voice thick with regret.
"But keeping the truth from you seemed easier than facing the possibility of losing you, especially after I found out what happened between you and Harry."
My thoughts spiraled—Why did he have to be your cousin? Anger and betrayal surged through me like a storm, and it must have shown on my face because Nick chuckled softly, breaking the tension.
"We're actually tied by a very, very, very thin thread," he said, his tone lightening. "Our connection is so distant it's almost nonexistent."
I raised an eyebrow, skepticism mingling with my lingering hurt.
"You know how parents love forcing relationships? My grandmother and his grandmother were soul sisters."
"Oh," I nodded, the revelation somewhat easing my discomfort. But then doubt crept in.
"Wait, you actually dated Silvia? You even gave her a pet name?" The memory surged back, reigniting my frustration.
How could I be so unlucky to fall for men who liked that woman? The thought made me grit my teeth, and I instinctively prepared to pull away from him.
"Eww, never," he said, his response catching me off guard just as I was about to retreat.
"Huh?" My surprise was palpable.
"But how come? I heard it with my own ears the day you two were talking," I pressed, confusion knitting my brows.
He sighed, his expression shifting to one of pain.
"I understand why you'd think that, but it was a complete misunderstanding. Silvia and I never dated. She wanted it to happen, but it never did. The pet name? That was when she was still in kindergarten. She was sweet back then, which is why I called her that. But as we grew up, she lost that light and became a bully."
He paused, then met my gaze with a devilish smirk.
"I have better taste, you know," he teased, his sultry remark sending an involuntary blush creeping up my cheeks. His gaze flickered back to my lips, the air thickening with unspoken desire.
"I promise nothing ever happened between us and can never happen," he assured me, and it felt like a puff of smoke dispersing the anger and hurt that had built up inside me.
But I was not okay. Not at all. The pain I had been clinging to was starting to fade, and that unsettled me deeply. How could I be so understanding?
How could I let his charm sway me and make me forget the hurt he'd caused?
It was as if his words had a hypnotic effect, clouding my judgment and warping my feelings.
Logically, he didn't owe me an explanation about their past—after all, we were just starting to know each other. But still, shouldn't he have told me as we grew closer?
Yet, we'd only known each other for a brief time, and I was still figuring him out. Ugh, this battle between reason and my heart was proving to be excruciating.
No! I needed to hold on to my anger; I couldn't let him off the hook that easily. He had lied to me, hurt me, and—come on, foolish heart, remember how he hid the truth from you!
I tried to reason with my heart. But he was only afraid of you leaving—was that really a good enough excuse? What if I lost a soul mate while trying to play hard to get?
Argh, why did I have to be so understanding? How could I possibly let go of someone like him?
As I looked into those dark, captivating eyes, I felt myself melting against my better judgment. It would have been easier if he were ugly or if he had treated me poorly.
But he was everything I had ever wanted, and that made it even harder to walk away. I couldn't shake the gnawing fear that I might never find someone like him again.
"…would you?" His sudden question pulled me from my thoughts, leaving me momentarily disoriented. I wasn't entirely sure what he was asking, but I guessed it was about forgiveness.
Stubbornness took hold, and I shook my head defiantly. I expected to see disappointment on his face, but instead, he quirked his brow mischievously, casting doubt over my own certainty.
Was I supposed to say yes? Had I misunderstood him?
Confusion clouded my mind, and I found myself nodding and shaking my head like a malfunctioning robot, unable to decide on a response. His wicked grin widened, clearly reveling in my dilemma. Pouting, I sighed, realizing I had fallen right into his trap. Why was I spacing out?
"Um, what was your question?" I stammered, like a mouse caught in a snare. His grin only grew, and he pulled me closer, his eyes sparkling with amusement. My heart raced, a mix of anxiety and anticipation flooding my veins.
"Too late," he said, and before I could gather my thoughts, he leaned in and kissed me.
When his lips touched mine, it felt like everything I had ever longed for suddenly fell into place. The emptiness in my heart vanished, the ache in got replaced by the warmth of his presence.
The kiss was soft at first, a gentle exploration that sent shivers down my spine. I felt as if the world around us had faded away, leaving only the two of us in this intimate bubble.
His hands found their way to my waist, drawing me closer, and I snuggly leaned into him, deepening the connection. The taste of him was sweet and intoxicating, my favorite- chocolate.
Each brush of his lips felt like a promise—a silent vow that we be better.
Time seemed to stand still as we lost ourselves in each other, every kiss igniting a spark of passion that spread through my body. I felt weightless, as if I were floating, completely consumed by the moment. Every doubt, every fear melted away, replaced by a blissful clarity that told me this was right.
As we pulled back, breathless and smiling, I looked into his eyes and saw a reflection of everything I felt—a mixture of joy and vulnerability, an unspoken understanding that we were both exactly where we were meant to be.
"I love you in this hairstyle," he rasped as his lips descended onto mine once again, sending shivers down my spine.
"You said the same thing about the previous one," I reminded him, but the words turned into a soft sigh as he trailed kisses down my jaw and neck, leaving a trail of warmth that made my heart race.
He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against my skin. "What can I say? You look stunning no matter how you wear your hair."
I tried to feign annoyance, but the way he nibbled gently at my collarbone made it impossible to hold onto any pretense. "Flattery will get you everywhere, you know."
"Good, because I'm planning to go everywhere with you," he replied, his voice low and sincere, pulling back just enough to meet my gaze.
His eyes sparkled with mischief, and I couldn't help but smile. "Is that a promise?"
"Absolutely," he said, leaning in closer, his breath warm against my lips. "And if it means more kisses like this, I'll gladly keep it."
With that, he captured my lips again, deeper this time, as if he were trying to convey everything he felt in that one moment. I melted against him, losing myself in the sweet taste of his kiss, the world outside fading away.
As his lips trailed down my neck, I bit down a moan that threatened to escape when a knock suddenly interrupted us.
Startled, we quickly pulled away from each other, our breathing heavy and our faces flushed with desire. I glanced towards the door, my heart pounding, wondering who was there to interrupt us.
"Honey, I am coming in." My eyes grew as wide as the moon as I recognized the voice on the other side of the door.
It was my father!
For goodness' sake, how could I have forgotten where I was?
I looked at Nick, who also looked startled at my father's sudden presence.
"Oh no, this is not happening! I thought you said my friends were keeping them occupied. How is that 'occupied'?" I whispered-yelled at Nick as I frantically tried to compose myself.
"Why is the door locked?" My father's voice came again, louder this time. My panic surged as I tugged at my clothes, trying to look presentable. But I nearly lost it when I turned to find Nick still sprawled on the bed, his elbow propped up, a cheeky grin on his face.
"You look cute when you're ruffled," he chuckled, utterly unfazed.
I shot him a glare, a blend of annoyance and embarrassment flooding me. How could he be so calm when we were on the verge of being caught?
"This is not the time for jokes, Nick!" I hissed through gritted teeth, my father's knocking growing more insistent.
"Get up and hide!" I demanded, grabbing his arm and dragging him toward the wardrobe.
"Not getting into that," he protested, crossing his arms defiantly, casting a wary glance at the wardrobe. His stubbornness only fueled my frustration.
"Nick! Under the bed, scream for help, or in the wardrobe. Your choice!" I glared at him, a mix of desperation and anger boiling over.
Finally, with a resigned sigh, he squeezed himself into the wardrobe. I had to stifle a laugh at how ridiculous he looked crammed in there. I quickly shut the door, praying it would muffle any noise he might make.
"Alright, I'm using the spare key—"
"You have a spare key to my room?" I cut off my father's voice as I opened the door, finding him standing there with an amused expression.
"That took you long enough," he commented, craning his neck to get a better view inside the room.
"Um, you needed anything?" I asked, leaning against the door to block his view.
"No, I just wanted to see what was taking you so long," my father replied with a smirk. "But now that I'm here, mind if I come in?" He raised an eyebrow mischievously.
All I could think was, What? I had been home for two days, and he had never thought to come into my room.
Why today? I nodded and stepped aside, allowing him to enter. My heart raced with guilt, pounding harder with each glance he cast my way.
"How long has it been since I stepped inside this room?" he asked, walking around the room. I pondered his question for a moment.
"Three years ago?" It was a statement more than a question. The last time he had been here was after that incident when nightmares plagued me, and he would sit with me, watching over me as I fell asleep.
"How time flies," he sighed, a hint of nostalgia lacing his voice as he took a seat on my couch. I walked over and sat down on the bed, facing him.
"It almost feels like a dream, thinking back on how you used to watch over me." A smile crept onto my face. Dad was my favorite, and I was his. He always had my back, no matter what. He was the soft parent, while Mom was the one who enforced the rules.
"Of course, despite being a big baby, you've always been my baby." He chuckled, the teasing glint in his eyes familiar and comforting.
"When you say that, you make me remember how you embarrassed me so much during high school, especially when you'd show up at school events and cheer for me in front of all my friends." I grinned at the memory.
"How can you deduce my love for you into embarrassment?" he exclaimed dramatically, placing a hand on his chest as if struck by an arrow. I laughed at his antics, the playful and dramatic nature of my dad always bringing a lightness to my heart.
"Oh, come on," I said, rolling my eyes. "You even wore a shirt with an infant picture of me!"
"With two missing front teeth!" he interjected, cackling.
I chuckled and shook my head, the memories flooding back. "You made me the laughingstock of the school that day."
"Ah, but it was all in good fun!" He leaned back, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Besides, you were adorable."
"Maybe I was, but still! I could have done without the extra attention."
"Well, I wanted to show everyone just how adorable you were, even as a child." His lightheartedness warmed my heart, deepening my gratitude for having him in my life. "Those were the good old days. Can't believe you're now in university and living on your own," he said, a mix of pride and nostalgia dancing in his voice.
"If I had a jinni, I would wish for you to stay younger forever," he mused with a wistful smile. I felt a pang of sadness at the thought of growing older and leaving behind the carefree days of my childhood.
"Aww, what about my siblings?" I teased, getting up from my bed and joining him on the couch. I interlocked my arm with him and rested my head on his shoulder.
"Mmh, nah, the wish is just for you, precious. Your elder sister has already given me a treasure, and we need another man in the house—your brother—so that leaves you to be by my side forever."
"But you have Mom," I reminded him, a playful smile tugging at my lips.
"You're still my precious," he said softly, then leaned in to whisper, "Don't tell your mother I said that." I laughed, my heart light as I savored this moment.
I was a mix of both my parents: my mother's eyes and my father's smile. "Don't worry. Your secret is safe with me," I assured him, giving him a playful wink.
"Cross your heart to fly?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow, which made me giggle at his silliness.
"Cross my heart and hope to fly," I replied, mimicking his playful tone.
"Now I am assured. Have you written any poems lately? It's been a while since you sent me your latest piece." His genuine interest warmed me even more. My father was my biggest fan, eagerly awaiting every poem I wrote.
I paused for a moment, recalling the last time I had penned something.
"Actually, I just finished one yesterday," I said, a smile spreading across my face. "I'll email it to you tonight, promise." His grin widened, clearly excited to read it.
A comfortable silence settled between us as I rested my head against his shoulder, soaking in his warmth and the moment.
Suddenly, a cracking noise interrupted our tranquility, emanating from the wardrobe behind us. I bit my lip, recalling that there was a third person hiding in there.
"What is that?" Dad asked, turning his head towards the wardrobe.
"Um, nothing. It's just the wardrobe. It's old, you know." I tried to brush it off, but the noise repeated itself, and I inwardly cursed Nick. Couldn't he just be quiet?
I glanced at my dad, hoping he wouldn't investigate further. But curiosity got the better of him as he stood up and walked toward the wardrobe, his eyes narrowing.
"Are you sure there's nothing in there?" he asked, his voice tinged with suspicion. My heart raced as I struggled to think of something.
"Yeah, what could possibly be in there? It's not like we have raccoons or rats, right?" I let out a nervous laugh, but he kept moving toward the wardrobe, his hand reaching for the doorknob. Sweat formed on my forehead as I desperately tried to come up with a convincing excuse before he could—
"Your Spitfire is looking for you!" Carrie suddenly appeared in the doorway, her head poking through. Relief washed over me as I quickly glanced at her, grateful for the interruption.
"Oh, really? I'll be right there." Dad's hand retreated from the wardrobe.
"Spitfire" was the pet name he gave Mom because of her fiery nature. It was also a name Carrie loved to tease him with.
"Seems like it's time to renovate your room, darling," he said, turning to me.
"You're right, Dad. Now off you go before the she-dragon comes after me for stealing you away." I gently pushed him toward the door.
Dad headed out, giving me a playful pat on the back. I let out a silent sigh as I watched him step out with Carrie, but before he could disappear completely, he turned back and said,
"Tell the guy in your wardrobe to see me after he's done squashing himself into that tiny space." It took a couple of seconds for my mind to register what he was referring to, and when it finally hit me, my eyes widened in shock.
How did he know? How could he possibly—
I turned to Carrie, and her expression mirrored my own disbelief. Her mouth hung slightly open, eyes wide as she processed the implication of his words. Seeing our flabbergasted reactions, he let out a derisive scoff.
"Which man hides inside the wardrobe?" He shook his head in disbelief and walked away, tutting as if we were the biggest fools to ever exist.