under the covers [hs au]

chapter twenty.

"Would it kill you to try and connect with them?" Samira suggested, watching him pour whiskey into the glass.

Harry's smile disappeared like dust in the wind as he took a sip of his drink, grimacing slightly.

Samira nodded at his silence, glaring at him as she read him like a book.

"You've never tried, have you."

Harry shook his head, but not shamelessly. It seemed he wanted to try, but gave up.

"Well, this time, I would like to come back here and listen to you talk about your family," Samira challenged. "Enough of me talking about mine and hearing your fantasies of barbequing with Wapa."

That caused his face to light up. "I still want to."

"In your dreams." Samira took a step toward him, hoping this time he would take a bigger leap, with something more personal. "Will you try, though?"

"Okay," he agreed, scratching his head. "I will."

"Say wallahi."

An adorable laugh escaped his lips. "We've come to that, now?"

"Yes." Samira got close, attempting to intimidate him. "Say it."

Harry chuckled, struggling to keep a straight face.

"Wallahi."

His attempted pronunciation of the word caused Samira to erupt in laughter. Her head was in his chest as she giggled. He said certain words almost correctly, like masha-Allah or alhamdulillah, but it was the first time he got something entirely wrong.

"You told me to!"

Samira fought back her laughs. "Only because I want you to be a man of your word."

Harry sighed, and his eyes twinkled. The ends of his lips were slightly downward as he stared at Samira.

He shook his head with disbelief. "You always make me like you more than I already do."

"Stop getting all corny, Allah." Samira rolled her eyes. "Just . . . trust me when I say that you will be okay. Okay?"

Harry's face softened. He moved her hair aside, and she felt a strand get trapped in her lipgloss. He leaned in, kissing her briefly, causing her thoughts to fly back to the night he had first caught her off guard when he moved her hair out of her face. Maybe he wanted to kiss her then, too.

"Thank you," he said, pulling away. "You're the best."

"I know."

Before he walked away, he froze. His hand went into the pocket of his brown cardigan.

"I forgot. I got you something."

"What?" Samira retorted, crossing her arms over her chest. "I told you not to get me anything."

"You know I had to."

"How did you even do that without getting caught?" Samira shook her head, disappointed. She remembered vividly telling him no gifts. "You get me stuff all the time!"

"Babe," he giggled. "Please, take it."

"No, I can't accept it."

"You're going to keep saying no until you get it. I know you." He opened a yellow box, pulling out a gold chain. It was surprising—Samira never wore jewelry unless it had some sort of meaning.

"I saw this when we went out to get gifts. And I thought of you."

The pendant on the chain was a sunflower. Her heart pounded at the thought behind the gift.