Hona Tha Pyaar ✔

30. The 'Ok Jaanu' Kiss

"Self-defense, Mr. Abdullah."

"Mujhse?"

"Aur nahi to kiya? I've had my share of encounters with creepsters here. You included."

"Hum creep, hum khadoos, hum hitler."

"Ek dum sahi." He scowls at me, upside down, earning a chuckle. "You're cute." I say pulling his cheeks.

"Bolna pardta aysa." He grumbles with a 'huh'.

"Itne nakhre to main bhi nahi karti, Fahad."

(Even I don't throw so many tantrums, Fahad.)

"Nakhre ki baat na karo. I know how much I've bardast-ed you the first three days of our tour."

"Main koi nakhre nahi kari! I was such a good girl."

"Oh yeah? Madam street food kuch nahi khaate, madam ke liyea bisleri bottles lena, madam ko AC me rakhna otherwise uno pighal jaate, zyada garmi suit nahi karti, madam ko dust se allergy hai, aur,"

(Madam doesn't eat street food, drinks only Bisleri, can't go without AC otherwise she'll melt, allergic to dust, can't bear a lot of heat, and,)

"Aur Hitler se bhi allergy hai." He pauses for a second, a fierce emotion flashing through his eyes. Wrapping a hand around the back of my neck, he lowers my face closer to his. Loosening my hair from the claw clip, he lets it free and fall on him.

"Hitler ko to nahi hai junglee billi se allergy."

"No?" I ask feigning surprise, tracing the side of his face ever so gently.

"Nahi."

"I like your nose." I blurt after a pause of close examination. "Nice and sharp."

"I like your eyes." He says, running his thumb along.

"I like your lashes. And your brows. Thick and full. Mascara ki zaroorat hi nahi hai."

"I really like your lips. Can't wait to kiss them."

"I like your hair. So soft and fluffy."

"Main bolne wala tha woh! Cheating, Jaana."

(I was supposed to say that!)

"Okay, fine. Say it."

"I like your hair. They're long and so damn soft." We change positions like we change the game we are playing. Fahad turns to lay on his stomach, propping his elbows up and resting his chin on the heart of his palm. Mirroring him, I get down to my stomach, inching as close I can get to his face.

"I'm really messy." I confess. "Can't keep anything clean. Especially my room."

"I am a clean freak. Don't worry, I'll pick up your dirty laundry." He coos, tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear.

"I don't fold my clothes either. Just dump them into the closet."

"I drop my wet towels on the bed."

"I take really long showers."

"I take hours to finish a meal." He admits, pulling a face.

"I can't cook. Anything for that matter."

"Bhookhe mar jainge apan, koi baat nahi, Jaana." He says with a shrug of shoulders like its no big deal, taking me by surprise. "I hate being late, though."

"You're Mr. Punctual, I know. I don't fancy controlling men."

"I don't like stubborn women."

"I don't like being ordered around."