under the covers [hs au]

chapter fifty-four.

"Do I have a big head?"

Zafri lifted one eyebrow, narrowing his eyes.

"You do."

"Wow."

"People with big heads are attractive! It's science."

Samira studied the ceiling bashfully, ignoring the evident heat on her skin.

"So, you think I'm attractive?"

"You live here rent-free, Samira." Zafri pointed at his temple. "You should be paying me."

When they got off the train, Zafri sauntered wordlessly, Samira tailing him with her arms secured over her chest. Lanterns glowed from corner to corner as they walked down a path between a mountain. The sound of running water flowed through her ears as they walked over a small, patterned bridge. A few steps ahead, an amber lit building stood in front of them, the exterior almost entirely of glass.

"If I came alone, I probably would've been in one of those." Zafri pointed off to the side—several log cabins. "And this lounge is exclusive for all the doctors at the convention. It should be empty, hopefully."

Samira's teeth chattered as she followed Zafri inside. The lights were low, and a vacant bar stood in the middle of the main hall. A few chambers contained a fireplace; the floors were dark wood, and beige couches stood close together.

"We're going to the roof."

"The roof?" Samira raised her eyebrows. "It's cold."

"Just wait."

Behind the lounge was a corridor of stairs. The frigid air bit at Samira's ears again once the night sky hung over her. A few gas fireplaces remained between sets of sofas—hot wisps of air grazed over her hands, relieving her instantly.

Samira chose a sofa by the far end, near the view of the mountains and the babbling brook. The flame beside them kept Samira warm, soothing her frozen cheeks.

They both faced each other on the couch, a foot of space between them. Zafri took off his pouch, pulling out a red box.

"What's that?" Samira squinted her eyes. "We're Not Really Strangers?"

"I call it 'the crying game'." Zafri opened the box, three sets of cards and a notepad with pencils inside. The tender fire glowed against the left side of his face, the right side kissed by the moonlight.

Samira took the piece of glossy paper, eyes raking over the instructions.

"Are we allowed to make this much eye-contact?"

"Those are the rules, right?"

The game was going to force Samira to be vulnerable—it made her cringe, but perhaps she needed that push. Again, the man sitting in front of her wanted her hand. Maybe Zafri deserved to see her soul.

Their eyes locked intensely. Samira sensed the competition lingering in his ridiculous smirk.

But luck was on Samira's side; a layer of water formed over Zafri's eyes, and he blinked.

As Zafri mumbled fuck, Samira laughed heartily. He reached for a card in the set labeled with a 'Level One (Perception)'.

"What was your first impression of me?"

She tilted her head, bewildered: "From which time?"

"Whichever."

"Oh, well, I thought you were an asshole."

"You're bad at noticing when someone is flirting with you."

"Shut up." Samira pursed her lips, cheeks flaring. "But I still thought you were cute . . . to admit, I couldn't stop thinking about you after that. And when we were kids . . . I just always had this crush on you."