under the covers [hs au]

chapter thirty-nine.

Samira held a warm mug to her lips, sipping the black coffee carefully. The hot liquid ran down her throat. She licked her mouth, tugging her lips between her teeth.

Her eyelids were weights with every blink, but she looked around the restaurant, shoulders slumped. Holding her cheek in her palm, Samira scrutinized a painting before her on the wall, taking note of the different colors splattered around the figure. Soft music sauntered through her ears. All of the voices surrounding her faded into white noise; her bubble of tranquility seemed impenetrable.

Until it popped at the sound of her name.

"Samira?"

She blinked, looking across the table at Tasneem.

"How's the coffee? At four in the evening?" Tasneem laughed.

A yawn then escaped her lips. She held her palm over her mouth, eyes watering.

"I'm trying to beat jet lag by the time I get home."

"Oh, that's smart," Fizza commented. "But did you not sleep well last night? You look tired."

"Not really." Samira cleared her throat awkwardly, placing the mug back on the table. "Don't worry about it, though."

Her body ached, exhausted by all of that crying, still consumed by the memory of that last moment with him. He left her with a scavenger hunt, having hidden clues everywhere—at the Chester river, through the streets of Liverpool, in the space between her legs. His last words puzzled her the most; gazing at the stars for hours upon end brought her no closer to an answer.

Tasneem turned to Noureen: "You're engaged, right? When are you getting married?"

Samira stayed quiet during the conversation again, and this time she had an excuse, having already known all of the details of Noureen's relationship. The waiter brought their food as they conversed, and she ate her sandwich, zoning out yet again.

Fizza then tapped her shoulder, giggling.

"Samira, do you know?"

Samira swallowed quickly, holding her hand over her mouth: "Do I know what?"

All of them were chuckling to themselves; Samira smiled awkwardly with them, a bit mortified that she drifted off into space again.

"What is it?" She asked, confused.

Noureen stifled a snort, pursing her lips: "What happens after the guy finishes and leaves a mess?"

"Oh." Samira scratched the back of her head, a snarky remark sitting on her tongue. "He eats it out, right?"

Tasneem's mouth fell agape, her cerulean eyes widening. Fizza started choking on her soda, and Noureen started squealing with her hand over her mouth. But Samira expected them to die of laughter rather than sitting in shock, as she thought her words were sarcastic.

"Samira, are you serious?" Tasneem stared at her. "Do they really . . ."

"Oh, no," Samira retorted immediately, almost coughing. "You know I'm joking, right? I can't be the only person at this table who's had sex."

Their mischievous giggles confirmed Samira's assumption. She sank in her seat, heat bubbling her skin.

"Aha ha, okay." Samira rolled her eyes, laughing ineptly. "I don't know, use a towel. Just wipe yourself clean."

"There's nothing wrong with knowing stuff, Samira. At least you do." Noureen began, sipping her soup. "I had a few friends that had terrible first nights after their wedding because they weren't taught anything."