41. Zinneerah
41
Zinneerah
“ T hat’s not fair,” Raees grumbles behind me. “You only got the red shell because I avoided getting that box.”
“Sucks to be you.” I hammer the buttons on my controller, Daisy speeding ahead of Yoshi like a pro. All that’s left now is Mario—Raees’ conventional choice—who’s annoyingly holding onto first place. He’s right there in my sights, blocking my glorious victory lap.
I drive through another item box.
Red shell. Again.
I cackle and hit the gas. This is it . My heart’s racing. I’m about to take him down. The comeback of the century. Raees, the so-called undefeated champion of Mario Kart 8, is going down. “C’est la vie—”
Daisy gets slammed by a red shell. My own red shell.
“No!” I choke out, flailing in disbelief as Yoshi, that green little fraud, barrels past me. Then Toad. Then Donkey. Then the rest of these pixelated idiots, all whizzing by as if they were waiting for this exact moment to ruin my life. I’m too stunned to even press the ‘X’ button, my thumbs frozen. “I was so close . . .”
Why does it actually feel like someone just snatched my dream out of my hands? I might cry. Over Mario Kart 8.
This is where my life is now.
Raees’ soft hand lifts up my chin so we’re both looking at the television. Most likely showing off his win.
But no.
Yoshi won. Followed by the rest of the idiots.
And Mario and Daisy are in the very last place.
I turn my head to look up at him. “But you’re world record?”
“I already won,” he says, leaning down to kiss me softly. My insides melt. They hurt, mostly, but they melt. “And every day for the past six years.”
Something tells me he isn’t talking about Mario Kart 8 anymore.
I groan, leaning back against his chest in defeat. “I really wanted to win,” I mumble, glaring at the screen where Yoshi’s annoying, little victory animation is playing on loop. “Fucking Yoshi. I hate him.”
Raees chuckles, the sound rumbling against my back. “You did red-shell him in the previous round, darling.”
“So?” I snap.
He doesn’t argue, just chuckles under his breath, his thumb tapping at the controller as he starts a new game. Meanwhile, I disappear into the blanket like it’s a cocoon and I’m the weird caterpillar that’s fallen completely in love with him.
I take a deep breath and, oh God, the smell of him—teakwood and woodsy, like he’s just strolled deep out of a forest. It suits him. He smells exactly like the kind of man who’d rescue me in one of those ridiculous fantasy movies, shirt unbuttoned, all brooding and heroic. I want to live in his scent. Build a house in it. Maybe a little garden out back.
And, well, I sort of did.
After we’d finished—still panting, my brain barely functioning from whatever wizardry we just did with our bodies—Raees didn’t even hesitate. Not a word, not a single question, just scooped me up like I weighed nothing and carried me straight to the bathroom.
He started the shower first, made sure the water was perfect, then plopped me down on the fancy shower bench I used to make fun of because what’s the point of a bench in the shower? Now I know. That’s the point.
He washed my hair, and then my body. Every inch of me, careful and patient. And when he wasn’t making me feel like a damn goddess, he was stealing kisses.
And honestly? I wanted to jump him all over again. My brain was a full-on circus of sinful ideas, and I was ready. But my body had to tap out, especially after that tiny bit of bleeding. Did that bother him? Nope. Not even a little. He wasn’t even disgusted or scared—just cleaned me up with a smile.
And if the bar wasn’t high enough, he dried me off with the gentleness of a librarian handling an ancient manuscript and started rubbing lotion onto my arms and legs.
Who is this man? Some kind of a robot husband? Because while he was out here being all sweet and attentive, all I could think about was unwrapping the towel slung low around his hips and showing him just how much I appreciated his efforts.
I bury my face in my hands just thinking about it.
He gets me flustered every damn time.
The way his fingers felt braiding my hair afterward, or how he just held me there, arm around my waist, while we brushed our teeth. He carried me to the armchair afterward, settling me down, then started tidying up the room, asking, “Hey, do you want to play Mario Kart 8 with me?” as if he didn’t just fuck my soul out of my body.
I’m doomed. Absolutely doomed. I love him. Oh my god, I love him. It’s not even a regular kind of love. It’s the kind that makes me feel like my heart’s about to explode like a pinata, sending colorful, sweet candy flying all over our carpet.
Our.
That’s our word now.
“Do you still want to play as Daisy?”
No. No, I do not.
Not when I can’t stop thinking about him. Not when it’s past one in the morning, and we literally had sex like, what, an hour ago? We need sleep, or we’re going to show up to work, and practise, looking like a pair of zombies who crawled out of bed.
I turn around between his legs. “Sleep.”
Raees smiles, his damp hair covering those lovely eyes. His sculpted chest on full-display. And goddamn, somebody should outlaw him from wearing grey sweatpants around me. “Sleep, it is.”
He puts down the controller and shifts off the bed to turn off his Switch. Then he comes back, slides in beside me, and shuts off the lamp.
We’re facing each other now, his arm looping around my waist, our legs a knotted mess. I try to look anywhere but at him since I can feel his eyes on me. Even in the dark, my face heats up, like he’s my first high school crush.
The moonlight beams through the curtains, and hits his face just right, accentuating the unfair angles of his jawline and cheekbones. The man is insufferably beautiful, and he’s so unaware of it.
I rest my hand on his cheek. “What are you thinking?”
He shrugs. “About you.”
“So, nothing new.”
A chuckle. Deep and raspy. “I don’t know. I always find something new about you.”
“Yeah?”
He nods. “Like, how you would cry after a twelve-year-old child in Tokyo red-shelled you.”
I make a show of turning around. “Goodnight.”
“I’m kidding.” Raees pulls me close and presses a kiss to my forehead. I snuggle my face near his neck, wrapping my arm around it. “It’s not just that. Like how you count the geese crossing the road. Or how you’ve turned our freezer into a tater-tot graveyard because you felt sorry no one’s buying them at the grocery store.”
I lift my head to look at him. “You notice that?”
“Of course I do,” he says, his eyes soft as his hand moves in slow circles on my back. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“I don’t know,” I whisper. “I just . . . no one’s ever noticed that stuff before.”
“You’re full of these tiny rituals,” he murmurs, brushing his lips against my temple. “You’ll whisper a quick apology to our plants if you knock into them, or eat the chips with the green stain first because you think they feel rejected.”
My cheeks warm, and I let out a laugh, trying to play it off. “I don’t even realize I’m doing half of that.”
“Well, no one’s looking at you the way I do.” He tilts his head down, his lips brushing my hair. “It’s my favorite part of being with you, you know? That I’ll never run out of things to learn about you. You’re infinite.”
I tip up my chin to kiss his own. “And you’re ridiculously cute.”
“And you’re ridiculously loved.”
“And you’re ridiculously cheesy.”
Raees’ eyes glimmer. “And I ridiculously want to kiss you now.”
My lips curve up. “With all due ridiculousness, please.”
Raees chuckles, and before I know it, his mouth is on mine. His hand slides up under my sweater, fingers finding my skin. But he pulls back way too soon. “We have to sleep.”
“We do,” I agree, even though I’m lying through my teeth.
We can’t stop staring at each other’s lips. His gaze flicks down, then back up to my eyes, and I know mine does the same.
“Because we’re responsible adults.”
“Totally responsible.”
“Playing Mario Kart at one in the morning.”
I lean in and kiss his bottom lip, cutting him off. His hand presses me closer to him, fighting a losing battle with his own resolve. “We make the rules,” I whisper against his mouth.
“You’re right.” His fingertips graze down my waist, sending a shiver through me. “Rule number one: we sleep on time.”
I kiss him again, because, honestly, I couldn’t care less about his stupid rules right now. “Whatever you say,” I mumble, barely pulling away.
“Rule—hey, rule number two,” he tries to say, laughing at how clingy I’m being. I don’t care. I’m kissing his cheeks now, his jaw, anywhere I can get. “Listen, darling.”
I pout. “What?”
“Rule number two,” he breathes out. “When you’re feeling better, there’s not an inch of this house I won’t take you on.”
Oh. My. God.
My entire body feels like it’s on fire. My core clenches, and I start kissing him again like it’s my life’s mission, my hands all over his chest, his neck, threading through his hair. If I wasn’t so sore right now, I’d shove him off this bed and make him prove that statement right here, right now. The floor? The kitchen table? The hood of our car? I don’t care.
“You’re so—” he starts, trying to break away from my kisses, but I’m not letting him off the hook. I peck his cheeks, his jaw, his nose. Whatever’s in range. “You’re just so eager, huh?”
“For you?” I say, smirking. “Absolutely.”
Raees rolls onto his back, and I immediately throw myself on him. My hands are all over his face, kissing him everywhere like a woman on a mission.
He grins, lopsided and lazy, and his hand drifts to my back, fingers tracing my spine. “How long are you planning to keep this up?”
I kiss the tip of his nose. “Forever.” Then his cheek. “And ever.” Then his chin, and his forehead for good measure. “And ever.” I plant another kiss on the curve of his brow. “And always.” If I had the precision, I’d be aiming for each individual eyelash.
“I’m so lucky.”
“And so handsome,” I murmur between kisses, and then I lean down and give him the loudest, most obnoxious smack of a kiss right on his lips. Enough to make him laugh, full-on laughing, his body shaking beneath me.
I grab his face like I’m holding a holy relic and stare at him in disbelief. “Seriously, dude. How are you even allowed to walk around this planet?”
He can barely breathe through his laughter now. “What’s gotten into you?”
“For starters, you.”
And now I’m laughing, too, and he’s laughing harder, and I want to capture this moment. The sound of his laugh. The way it makes me feel like the luckiest person alive. If I could, I’d record it, break it into chords, turn it into some masterpiece song I could play forever.
When he finally catches his breath, he shakes his head and says, “Dua was right. You are very clingy.”
I raise an eyebrow, mock-offended. “Is that bad?”
“No,” he blurts out. “No, never. It’s—I just didn’t think—I mean, I—”
“Why are you stuttering?”
He closes his eyes, probably hoping to escape my scrutiny, but a slow smile stretches across his face anyway. When he finally opens them, there’s a soft glow in them. His knuckles brush against my cheek. “I love when you ask me that question, you know.”
I tilt my head, genuinely curious now. “Have I asked you that before?”
He doesn’t answer—at least, not with words. Instead, he tugs me into him, locking me in place, and tucks my head under his chin.
“Rule number three,” he says, his voice muffled against my hair, “you can’t be clingier than me.”
“Why not?”
“That’s my job.”
“Our job,” I correct. “Equality in clinginess is important.”
He laughs quietly, his chest rumbling beneath me, and his hand finds the back of my head, his fingers threading into my hair.
My eyes flutter shut on their own. I could sleep like this every night. On him, in his arms, listening to his heartbeat.
“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Zinneerah,” he whispers.
“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Raees.”
He pulls the blanket over us, tucking us in a cozy little fortress against the world.
I snuggle closer, burying my face in the curve of his neck, breathing him in. He presses a kiss to the top of my head, and I hear him let out this long, tired exhale—like he’s finally at peace.
And just like that, the two of us fall asleep. Together.