"Hello? Faiza back to earth please." Ali waves his hand infront of my eyes.
"Where are you?"
"Nothing, I was uhm just thinking about something."
Did I just celebrate my 30th birthday with the same criminals I've been hunting for two months? Yes. What am I doing with my life? I honestly don't know. How can someone be a murderer, weapon and drug dealer and still be such normal human beings. These people are starting to grow on me and I need to get my head straight, asap.
"I don't think Ayat has any idea of what his brother and Sam do for a living." I say with a straight face.
"So you're saying she's innocent?" Ali asks and the question seems unreal, my heart wants all of them to be innocent, but they're not.
"Yes."
"On what ground of proof you're basing this on?"
"I've talked to her, lived with her, and I've seen how Sam and Ifan try to cover their faces when Ayat's in the room. She's precious. Which is why we have to tell Lieutenant that she has no part in it and to keep her away from this case."
"You really think her brother would keep something as big as a career from her?"
"She was very young when they started doing what they do. They lied back then, and never cleared the lie again." I say.
"She never grew suspicious?"
"What's there to suspect? She knows her brother works in some factory, and she knows whatever they've ever done was to give her good education. Tell me Ali, if someone did everything in their power to provide you the life they never had, would you ever question what they do for a living?"
"I guess you're right." Ali smacks his lips. "You don't- happen to feel bad for those guys, do you?" Ali asks.
"I do actually." I say, his eyes widens. "Why?"
"Because even if they are wrong, and may have caused humanitarian crisis to their people, they are still those kids who were once the victim of those same crisis. What they do isn't what I'm justifying, what I'm saying is, don't you think we would've done the same thing if we were ever in their shoes?"
"You're pitying them." Ali sighs.
"No, I would never pity them. The power they have is something we'll never be able to adapt." I say.
"Please don't tell me you're getting attached."
"I'm not." I'm trying not to. "But after living with them, I can see how we can be so judgemental when it comes to lower class people, we often forget that our industry also does things we aren't proud of, but just because we have the power to cover up what we do, those sins never make an appearance in documents, or cases. We aren't any better than them."
"You're wrong Faiza."
"Maybe I am."
"You've changed. I can't see the Faiza I become friends with."
Ouch-
"Pardon me if I can't adjust to your expectations Ali."
He says nothing inreturn.
"So.." He sighs. "We have everything we need to know of, we're clear that everything we've ever heard about that town is true, every horror, every incident. We're clear that Faisal is infact the leader, we just need self confession, that's all. Once we have that- we can arrest them all in no time. Bust in Faisal's mansion and carry them all to high court, Faisal won't sit easy, he'll fight back till his last breath but with proof, he absolutely will get behind bars, and with him all his members. Their factory will get demolished, and that place will get restraint." Ali speaks the whole case chart. After completely avoiding the conversation of how I have changed, which on the contrary, he started. He's such a pain in the ass, I cannot believe him.
"You're right, complete the paper work and submit to Lieutenant on your way back, I'm heading out."
"Where to?"
I don't answer him. I grab my purse and leave.
It's 4pm in the afternoon.
"How much for this corn?" I ask a man who has his stall of ready to eat street food, outside our apartment building.
"However much you can give." He smiles. I give him what I had at the moment.
I want to give myself a day free- one day where I can be full of life. How I was before my brother's accident.
I'm giving myself one day.
What is the one thing that would make absolute sense for a free day occasion? I stroke my chin. The thing that'd make me feel at ease, a break, something full of life.
Think for yourself.
Think of yourself.
Mountains-
A calm tea and a read in the mountains- but not alone. A hike with the coolest person I've met this year. I'm afraid it's going to be with someone I shouldn't go.
"How does going somewhere in the middle of near mountains sounds to you?" I call someone.
"Sounds like it's a date." Ifan's tone even through the speaker is visible. He's smirking for sure.
Yes. Ifan—I am guilty. So what?
-
-
"For the last time Ifan, it's not a date."
"Seems like it."
"Can't two—neighours go hiking?"
"Uhm no. You sure we're just neighbours?" He quotes the just part.
"Yes." I'm straightforward. It is what it is.
"Uhm no again." He laughs and walks ahead of me. "Hurry up!"
We're hiking up a scenic mountain trail. Thanksgiving is in two days which makes my task 3 month long, adding to my subconsciousness that I only have a month or half left for my case, and here I am, doing something I never thought I'd be doing. Maybe I'm subconsciously also reminding myself that I only a month left to hang around with him.
Its ridiculous of me but I won't deny, it's the first time I feel my younger self again. How I used to be before my brother's accident. Before my engagement. Before everything went terribly wrong. He brings that part in me. I so awfully wanted it to be Ali to light that spark again, because that way, I'd actually get the happy ending I deserve. But God threw Ifan to me, and made him the one who'd light the life in me. The one I know I can't have. The one who's supposed to be my argument in court, my oppression. The one against me. I wanted to spent time with him before it all fades away and he sees the betrayal I have created. Before he begins to hate me.
The love I see in his eyes for me is something God doesn't want me to have.
"Come on neighour!" He climbes up a gigantic rock. He's wearing a bright yellow backpack which only adds more dynamic to his already bubbly personality. He's like a child but again a ridiculously hot guy who only knows how to laugh, and to make others laugh.
"Couldn't you find a brighter yellow for a bagpack." I tease.
And when I'm with him, I feel free, far from my duty when all I'm here to do is related to my duty but he makes it all go away and I felt like for my free day I should spent it with someone who reminds me how it feels to truly live for others and to be yourself. Ifan taught me that it's okay to rely on people sometimes, and that it's more than okay to ask for help. That asking for help doesn't make a person weak but stronger because being vulnerable infront of someone takes guts to have.
"What do you mean? It's the perfect shade of yellow." He offers me his hand for me to step up.
As we climb up, lush green trees and vibrant wildflowers surround us.
We pause for a moment, taking in the breathtaking scenery. We're surrounded by majestic peaks that stretch towards the sky. The air feels cold against our skin, with a hint of earthy scent.
"Woah." Ifan gasps. Looking at the rolling hills, verdant valleys, and the sparkling lake. All nestled within the rugged grandeur of the mountains. His eyes grow tender as he breaths the fresh air in. And I kept staring at him as the sun casted a warm glow on his face. His pupils widens as soon as he takes out his camera from his bag and took multiple pictures of the scenery. And all I observed was him. His way of clicking random pictures, the movement of his feet, the carefulness of his grip, the soft in his voice, the beauty he holds. The beauty even he doesn't reconsider he has. He randomly switched his camera's direction at me. "Pose" He whispers.
"What should I do?" I laugh.
"Eh, think of—Sam slipping down in a water park!"
I laugh and he took a photograph, the flash left me flabbergasted.
"You're a natural, ma'am." He rotates the camera backwards and stands beside me. "Uh may I?" Before putting his arm around my shoulder he asks.
Men should take notes from him.
I nod smilingly and he puts his arm around my shoulder and took a photograph of us. A Eagle soar effortlessly behind us. "Did you see that?"
"I did." I smile.
"Isn't it bloody brilliant!"
"It is." I try to match his enthusiasm.
"Faiza?"
"Yeah?"
"Are you free for the entire day? I mean, you're not in a hurry are you?" He rubs his elbow.
"I'm pretty much unbound for today."
"Ah good." He puts his backpack down and took some art supplies out. "I thought we'd paint the scenery, it's a small but quite a pretty activity to do together." He shrugs his shoulders back in hope.
"Quite? It's fascinating how you view things." I smile.
"Really?" He takes out his mini canvas.
And I don't know what came over me but I urged and asked.
"Can you paint me?"
His face changed from calm to stunned, his mouth hung open. His cheeks flushed a deep pink as he glanced away. "I uhm eh um I–" He's stuttering the same way his eyes are flattering.
I laugh at his confusion.
"A portrait of me."
"Yeah—uhm I can but." His face lit up with a soft, hesitate smile.
"Where should I sit?" I bit my lips, my eyes dropping to the floor, as a delicate flush spreads across my cheeks like a whispered secret, which I'm so desperately hiding from him.
But he saw me, and he chuckled under his breath, smirkingly.
"You didn't know how to pose for a photograph, are you sure you can pose for a self portrait?" He chuckles softly.
"You're the artist, its your job." I say crossing my arms.
"And it's a privilege to have you as my muse." His eyes traced my whole being. My whole existence. Titling his head, and scaling the length of my body.
He holds my hand and walks me to a spot where there's a clear view of the frosty mountains in the background.
"Here?" I ask.
He leaned in close to me, slightly bending, my gaze roving between his eyes.
He pulls me up by my waist and beseaten me on a hill. It was suddan action, which made me suck my breath in.
His hand moves around me, he plucks a flower from the bush beside the bench I'm sitting on, and he sets the flower above my ear.
His contagious smile left me with a shy smile as well.
"Cross your legs." He artistically moves my leg up on another. So, I sit with my legs crossed, my arm resting on my knee, and my other arm on a green little bush like tree near me.
He's towered over me, focused. His hand drapes my hair behind my shoulder, and afterwards he kneels down infront of me, squinting his eyes to measure whatever an artist does.
"How are you so perfect?" He whispers.
"What?"
"Nothing." He begins the painting. His gaze on my body is sharp, almost as if grazing my skin with his sight. Almost as if—
He carries me by my waist, beseatens me up on a table, running his hand all the way up, through my knee to my thigh, grazing his lips against my collarbone, and slowly down to my–
"Faiza?"
I blink out of my fantasy.
"Yes?"
"I said, your flower is falling."
"Oh." My cheeks flush. What in the world? I reset my flower.
"Gosh you're beautiful." He smiles.
He's beautiful.
"Ifan can I ask you something."
"As if you ever ask before questioning." He laughs. "But I do love it when you investigate me."
My heart radiated a sorrow skip of a beat. I am investigating you.
"Do you ever doubt yourself?" I ask.
"I do." He whispers, he's concentrated.
"How do you get out of it?"
"I've changed the meaning of it, that's how." He smiles. "People use doubt as a negative term. I've changed it into a positive aspect."
"How?" I ask.
"Whenever you doubt yourself, that means you have the potential for that certain action to do. Which means there's a spot for growth, and improvement develops us. So the next time you doubt yourself, don't think of it as a no cause sort of way, but think of it as a way to grow, to challenge yourself, to prove that doubt wrong." He elaborates.
"It's nice to see more than one perspective on a single word." I say.
He's humming agreeingly. The next few minutes were quiet, calm, bird tweeting over our heads, and I kept staring at him. His blazing gaze covering every crave of my body, reaching through every inch of my legs, my arms. His hand in constant motion, after every swipe of paint, he hangs his brush over his ear and smudges something down in his canvas with his fingers. And I'm here left fascinated.
I've never seen a man this beautiful, this enchanted, this majestic. He stops to roll his sleeves up and I can't help but to observe his masculine, veiny arms. He's everything all at once. A proper human.
"Ah, Here we go." He walks upto me. "Here's your portrait ma'am." And hands me his canvas.
My eyes grow fonder. Oh my.
"I didn't know you were this excellent?" I gasp.
He proudly sighs. "Me neither."
His art is, hard to explain. It's added. A mixture of realisam and fantasy. A whif of magic, with undone splashes at every end. I'm clear, the mountains are clear, everything else is fading, colliding, more like waking up from a dream. Or trying to remember the bluring dream. It's fantastic. I love it so much.
"Can I keep it?" I ask.
"It's yours." He chuckles. "Do you like it?" He rubs his hand across the back of his neck, nervously.
"Are you kidding me? I adore it." I say.
"I don't know what I'm more attracted to right now. Your compliment or to your accent." He carries his stuff back again.
"What does that mean?"
"Don't get me wrong, I'm entirely attracted to you, whatsoever. I can't pick a particular reason why I like you." He smiles. "Meaning, I like everything about you." He says, sly smirking on his face.
He's hot.
Ridiculously hot.
"More things are ahead for you to know about me." I say, moving across him. "Which will bother you." I tell him.
"There's nothing you can say about yourself that'd bother me now." He's too confident.
"Anyway. Where do you want to go now?" I avoid what he had just said.
"It's your weekend's evening ma'am, whatever you like, I'll like."
"How about raspberry slushy?" I ask.
"In this weather?"
"Do you want it or not?" I sigh in pretend arrogance, teasingly of course.
"As I've said. Whatever you like it, I without hesitation, like it as well." He says, his smug smile makes him squint his eyes flirtatiously.
"Good." I say.
We walk down the hill, hiking all the way to mini-mart stores at the very end. Its getting dark. As soon as we reach the rock bottom, A festival takes place, and a parade shows up. Ifan and I both laugh at it being so nosy, yet amusing.
"Faiza!" He yells, I turn to him and get hit by a flash. "Pose!" He clicks.
"I'm recording, do something funny."
"Eh uhm."
I don't know what is funny. So I do a silly dance where I wiggle my arms up in the air. Ifan bursts out laughing, more snorting.
The noise brushes through, and it's difficult to hear anyone.
"Is this funny enough?" I yell over the parade.
"What?"
"I said was that dance funny enough!"
"Yes! Very!"
"I can't hear you!" I pretend. I can, hardly, but I can.
"Do you really don't hear me!?" He yells again.
"What?" I pretend, to tease him.
"I love you!"
What—
I froze. For a solid moment, my body got stuck in a rush.
"Faiza!?" He grabbed my arm and pulled me to him.
"You were going to get hit by the people in the parade. Be careful." He tucked a stray hair behind my ear.
"What did you just say?" My eyes widens.
"I said, you were going to get hit—"
"No, before that?"
"What? I don't know?"
I must have heard it wrong. The noise was pretty loud.
"Nothing, let's head to the slushy store." We both run, hand in hand.
Its getting colder.
Its a pop-up shop. Its tiny, vintage, and I love their every menu. I've been here before with Adam. He introduced me to this mini-mart. Its full of life, magic, misty and pretty.
"Hi, can we get a raspberry slushy with two straws." I order.
Ifan looks at me all stunned, but the corner of his lips lift upwards. "We're sharing a slushy?"
"Yeah. Why do you not want to?"
"Your words, not mine." He smiles. Come to realise it. He's a lot like me.
"One special raspberry slushy, coming right at ya!" Pops sings.
"Thank you pops."
We take seats outside pop's Van. These are tiny plastic chairs. I managed to sit rightly. whereas Ifan, he's a whole grown man. Ifan shifted uncomfortably on the tiny stool and began spreading his legs to get into a more relaxed position, but the narrow space between the table and the Van made it difficult. I find it cute, that he's not complaining and adjusting.
It's Manageable anyway.
The wind becomes chillier.
I rub my hands together, blowing on my hands to keep them warm.
"Here." Ifan wraps his hands around mine, cradling my hands, giving me his warmth.
My heart sank in for him.
A single gentle gesture, and I'm staring at him with puzzled look
All this time.
All these feelings we've been having.
This was the moment. I felt truly, purely, genuinely attracted to him.
In every kind of way.
But the hint of guilt, makes me pull my hands away from him. "I'm okay."
I'm not.
He's going to find out, sooner or later, who I am. And he's going to trash me for it.
I can't fall in love with him, because Adam is my first priority. What if I find something that'd make me trash him first.
But If destined to end.
Why this beautiful?
"You were in a jolly mood today. Is it because chirstmas is in a month?" He asks.
"Maybe." I say, being sassy. I am in a jolly mood.
Our slushy arrives. "Ah thank you pops!" Ifan appreciately taps pop's shoulder, and salutes him. I've noticed Sam does that, too. They both salute adoringly when feeling loved. Could they have learned it from each other or a specific parent?
We both lean in close, as we're sharing. Our eyes meet in a fonding contact. We begin drinking from our straws. Our noses almost too close to touching. His posture is difficult, I can tell. These chairs are tiny.
We're both slurping our slushy, staring at each other. He pretends to act like he's choking, and I burst out in laughter, slapping his shoulder back. "Shut up" I laugh.
"What! I was about to die!"
"No, you weren't." I laugh.
"But If I were to die infront of you. What would you do?"
"Ifan, Don't say that." I frown.
"Fine, I was joking." He flares his arms up, as if being arrested.
He often does that. Its his habit. What he doesn't realise is he's unintentionally manifesting it.
I sip our slushy ignorantly.
A man crossing by mistakingly bumped into Ifan's shoulder. "Oh Pardon!" His hand grazed Ifan's arm.
Ifan get startled weirdly on a larger scale. Which I haven't seen betore. Is he okay?
"It's okay." Ifan told the guy, but his shaky hands are telling me otherwise. His leg started shaking, and his finger nails are clenched hard into his palm.
Did the bump seriously bothered him that much? What is he hiding? Was it the touch? Or the suddan action that caught him off graud? Has he been..
Oh my lord.
Has he been molested?
Maybe in his childhood? Workplace? Oh lord.
"Are you okay neighour?" I cradle my hand on his.
"Yeah, I'm starving! How about we eat somewhere later after the slushy huh, what do you think?"
He's specifically speaking too much, I'd say rather to avoid going back into his memory.
"I'm in." I share a warm smile with him, and his eyes grew slight teary with a soft smile on his face.
"Let's play a game." He shakes his head and changed his focus completely diverting it on me.
I look up at him and he's grinning. Slight shade of his dimples appear and suddenly he's the most preciously handsome man I've ever seen.
"What is the game about?" I ask.
"I'll act, you'll guess."
What kind of silly game that is?
"My job is to only guess, am I getting you right?"
"Simple as a pringle." He grins even more.
"Hm, okay then start acting." I put my elbows on table for more determination to take a guess.
He randomly pokes his own nose and flares his arms up and down. "What am I?" He asks.
I laugh at his gesture.
He's funny.
"A bird?"
"You got it on the first try!"
"As if it was meant to be hard." I roll my eyes. He's only doing that for the sake of my entertainment.
Is he afraid I'll get bored? are these signs of fear of abandonment.
"Why are we playing this silly game?" I ask, gently.
He softly and steadily, learned in close to me. His fingers lingered, tracing the curve of my cheek. "Because this genuine smile ma'am—" He lightly taps my smile crinkle. "Only appears rarely." He scoffs. "And I'd be a fool to let go of that chance. I like being the reason of your joy."
All that he said, spinnd my head around in a circle, and my heart is beating intensely. He's a hurt, damaged person, and somehow I always find him considerate of others. Of me. Why is he like that? Why is he making it hard for me. Why can't he just act like a criminal and not like the most perfect guy that he is.
"I need water." I cough.
As much as he hurts inside on daily basics of life, he is yet aware of everyone else's hurt. Not only that he is aware but he tries to genuinely make the people around him happy. Why? How did he grow up to be such a man, the habits that not even policemen can adapt.
"I'll get that for you."
He brought me some water, and so we talked some more. More about ourselves, less about the world. And time seem to be running away, hours went by and we didn't even realise it. A conversation too bound to not hear.
He's kind.
And I'm so attracted to him at the moment, to the point I'm disgusting myself.
"Do you like running?" He asked.
"No, I'm terrible at it."
Who am I kidding. I'm a cop. But it is true. I dislike running, waste of stenima it is what I think.
"Then we should obviously try it." He grins.
"What—" before I could oppose him, he holds my hand, and drags me with him. And suddenly we're running around in these mart streets, he's enthusiastic, and I am, too. The chilly wind against our skins as we run away from all our worries. He's smart when it comes to coping with issues. Which is why he has stayed this bright, even after everything fell apart for him. The festival lighting, the paper figures, dressed up people. We're running through it all.
Our laughter radiating each other, back and forth.
He's very likeable.
It's hard to not like someone like him.
-IFAN-
"That was the coolest date I've ever been on" I say.
"That was the most I've ever celebrated." Faiza agrees. We walk out of the elevator reaching our floor. After we had the slushy, we both changed into formal clothes which we bought on our way and had dinner at a fancy place.
"I'll make sure you start to celebrate yourself more often." I say, taking keys out of my pocket. "You should rest now ma'am." I run a lazy trail down her body. She looked alluring today, her beauty is so captivating- hard to explain, more to observe, she's like the moon- soft and ethereal, like a night filled with fireflies sparkling their way to you. Not a half moon- but a perfect circle, bright and bold. She's that moon. Waning a gentle fade, leaving a lingering glow whenever where-ever she walks.
"You're beautiful." I say in a whisper.
"Hard to forget when you keep reminding me that." She whispers as well, teasingly.
I know I shouldn't say what I'm about to say. "Would you like to come inside?"
"I think we're both pretty tired." She's keeping me in line.
"Okay-"
"But I do think we both could have some tea?"
"Tea?" I tilt my head a bit sarcasticly.
"Yeah tea, nice and warm." She acts to shiver with coldness. After that slushy, we can use some warmth.
"Will do ma'am." I place my hand on her back to welcome her inside, as if she hasn't been here before.
I take myself to the kitchen to make tea, while she takes her coat off- and I might be feeling way too attracted to her, when I know she doesn't feel the same, or does she?
"Almost ready." I say, peaking at her- God her dress is backless.
"Tea smells splendid." She says, walking inside the kitchen.
"I know right, it's my grandpa's recipe." I tell her.
"Good lord grandpa." She wraps her arms around my waist from the back, as I pour tea into mugs.
She's being causal- I guess I'm not the only one feeling attracted.
She's into me too.
"You're being different ma'am." I chuckle.
"You're being cute- sir" Her voice went right through my heart. She called me sir- twice now. I'm not hallucinating am I? I am, am I not? Bloody hell.
"Your tea is ready neighour." I turn around, facing her, she doesn't take her steps back. Her arms are still around me, hugging me.
"I appreciate it neighbour." She isn't herself today-
"Are you drunk Faiza?"
"Why? You don't think I can be fun?" Her eyebrows get pulled down.
"You're always fun Faiza." I say. And
Her eyes sparkle when I tell her that.
"Genuinely fun?" She asks.
"One thousand percent." I whisper.
"Do you hear that?" She pays unnecessary attention to some sound coming from our neighbours from upstairs.
"What?"
"Music- they're playing music." She puts her hand on her ear. "You know what that means- we should dance!"
"Haven't we socialised enough for today." I say. Where's her energy coming from, not that I don't want it, she looks great.
"This isn't socialising dumb." And now she's calling me dumb, wow. I'm turned on.
"We're at home." She says, my heart flatters at extremist. "We're home." I say. Something about her calling my place home is so addicting and freshening. Like I want her to call me home.
"Let's dance!" She pulls my hands to her.
"I know you have potential Ifan!" Her laughter echoes through the kitchen. And I know if she ever leaves me now, the house will get empty, too empty.
"You've convinced me" I laugh, as I spun her around, her hair fluttered like silk. Her little sound of laughter is like a bullet to heart. We twirled, the fridge's light cast shadows on our faces, her eyes show the warmth of love she feels for me but is too scared to admit, what are you so afraid of love?
Her hand rested on my chest, I softly drag her hands to my neck as my hands cradle her waist, her arms wrapped around my back, we swayed to the melody. Seeing the look she has on her face, I feel lost, lost in her. I push her chin up, her eyes caved in, she wants this as much as I do. "So are you going to kiss me now or what?" She whispers.
My heart skipped a beat, I laugh as I lean in for a kiss, her lips gasp for it, she even held in her breath but as soon as my lips parted, she turns her face away, I laugh under my breath. "Did you really thought I'd be that easy?"
"Oh yeah?" I say and kiss her cheek anyway. "Goodnight Faiza" I tell her softly.
"Goodnight Ifan." Her eyes follow me as I gently move back from her, my fingers slowly move down her chin, my hand grabs her neck and I pull her in, she gasps and I kiss her, pressing my body against hers, she loses herself, grasps my hair tight, which makes me want to bite her bottom lip, we make out, losing ourselves, my hand slides down to her hips, pulling her dress up, my hand goes up her thigh, she moans while chuckling softly when I place kisses moving down her neck inch by inch, my other hand finds it's way to her strap and I pull it down her shoulder placing a soft intense kiss on her collarbone, Her dress drops down her legs, on the floor, and I carry her and lay her down on my couch, she stares at me as I take off my shirt, she helps me pull it over my head, I lean on her, kissing her, she moans as I press my body against her, I help her get undress. She helps me unbutton my pants, whereas I unbuckle her bra, and get on top of her.
Son of a gun.
Am I in love?
.
.
.
My eyes open as soft as petals, its golden hour, I turn my body to my left shoulder when I see her, resting her head on my chest. Sun ray falls down her face and she looks like a goddess. I'm jealous of the sun kissed view because I should be the one kissing her. Every ounce of her. Even her soul and beyond that. I tuck her cherry red hair behind her ear, God she's beautiful. She opens her eyes. "Hey" she whispers stretching out her arms.
"Hey" I kiss her rosy cheek. "Would you like some pancakes ma'am?" I say. "I must say I make one hell of a pancake" I do a chef's kiss. "I'd like that" she leans up to me and gives me a sweet kiss on the lips. I want to cave in again but I won't because the eyes man- they always tell the truth. She's embarrassed, and thinks it's a mistake but yet they're filled with spirit.
I try getting up, where are my pants? I scan the hall, her dress, undergarments laying on the floor. I cover my hips with a towel.
A notification pops up on her phone, she ignored and falls asleep again.
I shouldn't look who texted her but it pops up on her lock screen and my gaze drops to it.
Ali- a guy.
I'm- this is not my cup of tea, getting jealous over someone. I shouldn't mind this, it's normal and It doesn't bother me.
It really doesn't.
It shouldn't..
Who the hell is Ali?
I head to the kitchen,
Door bell rings.
Who could that be?
I hear the door unlocks-
Only Sam has spare keys.. that means, shit. I run to close the door on him but he gets in before I could.
"Oh my fucking God Ifan- you got freaky last night" He walks in laughing.
"Ifan I think last night was a stupid mistake- Oh Sam-" Faiza stops walking mid way. Sam's laughter gets stuck in and he starts choking. "You two!?"
"A mistake?" I squint my eyes in disgust-
"You- two!?" Sam repeats himself.
Great-
Happy freaking Monday everybody.