Chapter-38🌜 Peachy.
Zane's POV
"What is your spice tolerance?"
"My spice tolerance? Why are you asking about it?"
"Just answer the question, Zane." He gives the pan a harsh beating with the spatula while tossing the—hmm, sabzi in it.
It's foolish of me, because I kinda like the way he says my name. I want to hear it again.
"I am asking because Indian food can be quite layered and rich in spices, so if you guys have a lower tolerance of capsaicin, it won't be nice, will it?"
"Mmm, I can handle some spice." Hell, I can. The spiciest chilli is standing beside me and call me a masochist, because I want to eat this chilli so badly. I want to consume it whole.
That burning sensation will be our foreplay.
Dio mio, cravings are getting worse lately. I need to have some protein.
Much better if it's his.
"In your dreams."
"Huh?" His words break my drunken daze and keep me pondering if I was thinking it out loud.
Fuck me on Eiffel tower.
I try to see the signs of distress. Well there's some, but not more than usual. Blood finally goes back to my stomach as relief brushes over me.
"Lost in daydreams." He turns the gas off and pulls out a small bowl. Then adds some of it in the bowl and starts talking again. "It is not about ego, you know? You can just be honest that you prefer it less, and you will still be a man, I swear."
"I can handle some spice." I repeat.
"Sure." He adds some spices in the bowl and then gives it to me before mixing everything. "Taste it."
"Huh?"
"I have added all the spices that it will have in general. Taste it and tell me if you and your fam can handle it." I look down on the bowl he's offering me. It has a unique aroma to it, kind of pungent but somehow appealing.
I take the spoon and then put the bite in my mouth. "Oh my—Gesù!" I open my mouth hastily. It's feeling like someone has set my tongue on fire. It makes sense why it was looking this red. "How much chilli have you added to it? A thousand pounds?" I run for milk, water-whatever I can find first.
I chug down the whole bottle of almond milk and finally I can feel my tongue alive. An acid attack survivor, for sure.
This motherfucker was enjoying it but when I look back at him, he has that innocent look on his face, like a child who has definitely done something chaotic. "Aw... I would take that as a 'no'. You are looking like a fish, by the way."
A fish?
Oh... it's my lips, which are feeling like someone massaged them with sand paper. "You did that intentionally, didn't you?"
"Do you have any proof?" This cheeky motherfucker! "I was just making sure..."
"Oh yuh? So how many red chilli powder did you add?"
"One...hmm...two...maybe three tablespoons. Less, right?" He bats his lashes.
"You—"
"Shut up, and go make some chapatis, like I just showed you." He shoos me to the counter. "And make sure they are symmetrical and round."
"As if I have another choice..." I say under my breath as I pick up the rolling pin.
"Did you say something?" He challenges me.
"Nope." I did.
After I have made like ten, I am done. Like working with quietness is usually not hard for me. I prefer peace over hotchpotch. Its disturbing.
But around William, I can't. I feel like someone is suffocating me in a tight high neck—I hate those. "So how can you cook so good?"
"Aww did you like that this much? I can give you some more..." He licks his lip as picks the bowl back up.
"Not that. My tongue hates you, if I must say."
"It's mutual." Asshole.
"No, I was talking about that kheer." That was actually so good. The texture was creamy and that zesty sweetness from mango...
Just a taste isn't enough.
"I didn't even know you could add rice to milk." I tell him. Especially not in sweet one, but damn it was delicious.
"It's not even done yet." He said that while giving me to taste it too. He counter-questions me, "how can you?"
"I asked first." I answer him anyway, because this is better than nothing, right? "My mom taught me everything. She herself cooks so well—all credit goes to my nonna actually. You see, it runs in the family, she taught mom and she passed it on to me."
Pleasant memories of my nonna start recalling. "She was my second biggest supporter ever. Always the one to know whatever's going on in my head, always covering up for me and Vance whenever we will create havoc." I tell him, even though I know he won't be interested in it.
"You and havoc?" He drops the spatula like it's the wildest thing he has ever heard.
"Yeah..?"
He has the courtesy to at least cover his mouth when he laughs. "I don't know... you just don't give messy child vibes."
"Oh, yeah? Then what is the vibe I give?"
"Hmm... more like a neat and clean good boy. Like maybe you weren't dorky, but you give me vibes like that isolated kid who likes to stand alone in a party."
I stop rolling the dough in my hand. He is kinda right, but kinda wrong. "Are you projecting, Will?"
"Am I, Zaney?" His voice is like he's mimicking someone. Someone with a really annoying and squeaky voice.
"Zaneyyyyyyy!" My abducted diminutive name booms in the walls of the kitchen as she comes forward. The click of her heels making a distinguished sound that only her stilettos make. And without even turning around, I know who it is.
William's POV
Felony was not on my tarot reading, but I wanna commit some. This is the shrillest voice I have ever heard. My dad's "vintage" scooter sounds better than her. And that bar is way too high.
'Zaneyyyy' eww.
It's Zane, bitch.
Hey mere bhagwan! Pagal ho gaya hu main. I have no business in her calling him "Zaneyyy".
That's just weird.
She comes forward, reaches out for him like a mad koala and the mess around doesn't even bother her as she wraps her arms around his neck.
"You didn't even come to say Good Morning to me baby."
This grown ass woman says that in the most hediously childish voice. With her cheeks puffed out and chin tiled up as she gawks at him with her fake lashes. "I am sorry."
What the fuck is he apologizing for is beyond my intelligence and patience level. "It's okay, baby."
I look away because I don't have any plans of having type two diabetes, yet. This is literally inducing vomits in me.
"Damn, your biceps have grown bigger, baby." She molds them with her hands as she gushes over his arms which are probably thicker than some people's thighs. They are literally pouncing out of the sleeves of his dress shirt.
I clear my throat and these both corny lovers finally acknowledge me. "Are you done with them?" I ask him.
What? We are getting late.
It's very much logical.
"Yeah, almost—"
"Oh Andr-ew, you are here too? I didn't even notice." She laughs at her own attempt of a joke.
The fuck is Andrew with an emphasis on "ew"? Who the fuck does she think she is?
"Ver, his name is William." Zane states and his nickname isn't filled with that much affection that it almost made me puke. It is almost like a subtle warning.
"Oh, is it?" She gasps. "I am so sorry, huh Andr-ew, uh William.
" She corrects herself as she looks back at Zane.
And the turns back to me, "It's just, you remind me a lot of my house help, Andr-ew.
Such a hardworking man... you guys even have the same fashion sense.
" Her eyes take a quick scan of me. "Ugh, I miss him. "
I instinctually stretch the already long apron to try to hide under it. It is said in such a way that it would sound like a genuine mistake. But she can't fool me.
I can see, I can feel the disgust in her eyes. How she thinks I am beneath her in every prospect.
She is right.
I bite the inside of my cheek as I go back to stirring the pot. "You have met him, haven't you?"
"No, I don't think so." Zane replies, and I can feel his eyes on me.
"Oh shit, I forgot he just joined last month. Damn... it already feels like an eternity."
"Okay." Zane says as he also joins in and goes back to working on the counter. "Is there a reason why you are here, Veronica?"
She instantly goes back to looking wounded. "Do you not want me here?"
"It's not like that." There's a crack in Zane's voice, which I don't miss as he talks to her.
"Then what is it? I just wanted to spend time with my special someone because I missed you. But if you don't want me here, I will just..." She wipes her already teary eyes while she turns around to leave for good.
"Ver, stop." She flips around on her heels, as if she was already expecting it.
"It's not like that... we can definitely spend some time together.
" He tells her as he wipes her cheek with a softness of a feather.
"Just not right now. I am in middle of something, I will get back to you when I am done with it. "
Living in the bliss of ignorance is definitely her preference, as she clearly misses the hint to leave,—or weaponises it, "Cooking?
Well didn't you say you were almost done?
And William can handle the rest, right?" She is facing me but Zane can't see her face as she smirks.
"You don't mind it, right William? I mean you can say no, if it's not okay.
It's just... we have a lot to catch up."
Catch up.
I grit my teeth as I try to keep my face neutral. "No, I wont. We are almost done here, he can go where he wants."
I go to the pantry to look for some dry fruits. "See, he doesn't mind, now you can come with me." The eagerness of this woman to do God knows what, is horrifying.
"Ver, we are almost done, I'll come back to you just in a while, I promise."
"You have changed a lot in just one day of marriage..." She weeps.
Oh my god, I can't take it anymore. "Zane you can leave if you want." I turn my rock hard pocker face away from him. "I'll handle the rest."
"Are you sure?" He questions me back, and her groan blures in the background as if it's just me and him present in the room.
"Peachy."
A/N??
Hmm, peachy he says...
How was the chapter?
What is your spice tolerance?
Who do you think Veronica is to Zane?
Was William jealous?
Who Veronica thinks she is:
Thoughts? ??
Comments? ??
Votes? ??