Sᴇʀᴇɴᴅɪᴘɪᴛʏ

36. "Fᴏʀ ʜᴏᴡ ʟᴏɴɢ?"

- Aᴠᴏɪᴅ ᴛʏᴘᴏs ᴀɴᴅ ɢʀᴀᴍᴍᴀᴛɪᴄᴀʟ ᴇʀʀᴏʀs -

Her morning alarm went off on her phone and she opened her eyes only to find herself trapped under the weight of his body. He was all over her, as if she were that one comfortable pillow that everyone has. He was hugging her close and tight. She wasn't uncomfortable at all but the way his arm perched on her bare form underneath her spaghettis definitely made her groan. They made out again, last night, she remembers. The hickey that he left on her neck still hurts, and her body is still sore from it. The memory of last night brings a shy smile on her face. She leans her head sideways and peers at him lovingly as he sleeps like a baby, utterly unaware of her gaze. He has no shirt on, and it makes her leer at him. She bites her lower lip as she traces her index finger down his forehead to his pointed nose and his swollen and chapped lips, and stops there, brushing her thumb on his lips. A little dried up blood still remains on his lips. She chortles. They had been a little wild, last night. The hungry kisses and his sensual touches - oh, she still remembers them! She wants to kiss him but she cannot move. His arm that lay upon her and the leg trapping her legs, are heavy. And the way his arm rests upon her, it drives her crazy and leaves her wanting more of him. She flails her head, restless and exasperated.

She had perhaps snoozed the alarm on her mobile phone before as it rings again. She needs to get out of his damned bed and go to her house, because if her father finds out that she had been with him, in his room, on his bed, in his arms, and doing pretty adult stuff that perhaps he could not imagine his child doing, she was going to be dead, and there's no doubt in that. Ramesh Gangwal is not an anti-peace kind of person, but will not think twice before shooting his daughter himself if he finds her reeking of a man she is not even hitched to. He is a quintessential overreacting Indian father, after all; he will die and kill for and his daughter. No hyperbole intended.

He groans in his sleep as her alarm rings and nuzzles further into the crook of her neck, making it difficult for her to even breath. Her phone had vibrated the hell out of itself and is now on the edge, all set to jump off the bedside cabinet and crash. She puffs and stretches out her hand towards her phone, and grabs it before it dives onto the floor. She switches off that damned croaking device and keeps it back, and focuses on the problem that had burdened on herself.

"Jojo."

She coos to him. She lets the emotions that she feels for him flow into that word that she speaks. Love, care, and desire. He hums as she tries to wake her up. He has somewhat woken up, already, but still lay with his eyes closed. Her breath stops for a moment as he smiles and his smile touches her hickey. She closes her eyes as she feels a flutter inside her. It stirs up a havoc. She stirs a bit, and he finally withdraws his hand and his leg. She sighs in relief, but when she tries to get up, her hair stuck underneath his head pulls her back and she groans.

"Jojo, damnit, move away."

She loses it finally and whisper screams, not wanting to be heard by anyone other than him. She could not afford it. Sleeping with him like this is a bad idea, she realises. She fears getting caught, though he sleeps in her bed, in her room, almost every night, but he never gets caught. He does it like an ace. But she doesn't trust herself enough to perform such stunts. They could be adversarial to their lives. He moves a bit, lifts his head from the pillow and squints at her with his left eye keeping the other closed and twitches his lips to a side. The sunlight from the window irritates his eye and he struggles to keep it open.

"I need to go home."

She growls as she sits upright on the bed, but he pulls her back onto the bed and snuggles into her.