under the covers [hs au]

chapter sixty-four.

The line went silent. Samira couldn't help but imagine the possible expression on Zafri's face from the foreign words that came from Samira's lips.

"I'll come over."

"No, no. I will."

The wind howled as Samira drove. The impending clouds left a crisp smell in the air, and the trees danced with each passing gust. The booming thunder resonated with the pounding in Samira's chest as she drove straight to Zafri's home.

The streets were empty and dark; the sun wasn't to come out for another few hours. The whistling wind toyed with Samira's hair as she stood in front of Zafri's door, arms crossed over her chest tightly.

Samira: I'm here

Moments later, the door creaked; Zafri stepped outside slowly. He wore a cozy cardigan over his pajamas, and his honey eyes were tired yet awake just for her.

He switched the patio lights on, his movements languid.

"Samira," he began softly, extending the space between him and the door. "Let's talk inside. It's too windy."

"I don't—" She took a step forward, holding her hand out. "I don't think that's a good idea."

Zafri blinked, caught off guard. His hands slipped into the pockets of his pants.

"Is it . . . is it bad?"

"I . . . " Samira licked her lips. "I don't know. I just need to get it out."

Three of them sat in the car—Samira, Zafri, and the intense tension accompanying them. The wind struck the windows, and droplets fell from the sky. Samira could feel Zafri's eyes burning holes into her as she tapped on the steering wheel and fiddled with her sweater paws.

"Samira," he called softly, his sonorous voice a perfect note to the tune of pattering rain.

Swallowing painfully, Samira looked to her right, meeting Zafri's gaze. The gold in his eyes didn't glisten this time, and his eyebrows furrowed. A cold chill surged her chest, and her skin peppered with goosebumps.

"Sorry." She cleared her throat, sinking into the seat. "Um . . ."

Squeezing her eyes shut, Samira cringed. As her mouth struggled to catch what spilled from her heart, a warmth then invaded her palm, like a silk sheet on a cold night. Samira looked down, seeing Zafri's tender palm slip into hers. Her heart somewhat beat gently as his fingers caressed her hand.

"Just say it."

Their eyes locked. Samira pinched her lips into a thin line, nodding.

"Okay." Samira gulped. "There's something I haven't told you."

Zafri blinked, his eyelashes touching gently.

"I'm listening."

Her lungs welcomed a heap of air.

"I never talked about Liverpool because . . ." Samira squeezed her eyes shut, a sharp breath leaving her lips. "Because I was . . . with someone."

Zafri blinked a few times, but his eyes never left Samira's.

"Who?"

In one breath, the faucet turned to the end; Samira went on and on like running water.

Not a chapter, page was skipped over. Every little thing she remembered, Zafri now knew. Samira and Harry's encounter on the train, the friendly beginning, catching feelings, and the absurd arguments caused by miscommunication. All the lies she told so she could get through the night, and how he manipulated her every single day so she'd stay.