HER CRUSH

Chapter8

Zarah...
I laughed softly, shaking my head. "No... I'm not tired. I just... don't like going to these dinners."

"Oh?" he raised a brow, eyes still fixed on the road. "So why are you going, then?"

I rolled my eyes dramatically, even though he couldn't see it. "Because Ammi would have personally dragged me by the ear if I refused. You clearly don't know the kind of woman my mother is."

That earned me another chuckle, and I swore my knees turned to water. His laugh was low, unhurried, and it rolled through the car like music.

"Sounds like you don't win arguments at home," he teased.

"Ha! That's where you're wrong," I shot back quickly, my confidence momentarily returning. "I win plenty of arguments. Just... not against Ammi. Or Aunty Ramla. Or..." I paused, counting silently, "...basically any woman older than me."

His smile deepened. "So basically, you don't win arguments."

I gasped, pretending to be offended. "That's not what I said! I win against my younger cousins all the time. They fear me."

"Ah, I see. Professional bully," he said, his tone dripping with mock seriousness.

I laughed, covering my mouth. "Wallahi, don't put me like that. I'm the sweetest person alive. Ask anyone."

He side...eyed me briefly. "Sweetest, hmm? I'll keep that in mind."

The car went quiet again, but this time it wasn't awkward. It was... charged. The kind of silence where every sound...the hum of the engine, the rhythm of the tires, even my own heartbeat...felt amplified.

To distract myself, I leaned against the window and muttered, "This car smells really nice."

He raised an eyebrow. "You're smelling my car?"

Mortification flooded me. "No! I mean...yes, but...not in a weird way! I just... noticed it."

That soft laugh came again, and I wished I could bottle it. "Relax, Fatima. I'll take it as a compliment."

I bit my lip, turning away to hide my smile. My heart was a mess, but somewhere deep down, I knew one thing for certain: this was only the beginning.

"So..." he said suddenly, his voice smooth, "do you usually talk this much when you meet strangers in cars?"

I whipped my head around, wide-eyed. "Stranger? Excuse me, I know who you are!"

He arched an eyebrow, amused. "Oh really? Then who am I?"

I opened my mouth, then froze. My brain went completely blank. Should I say Abdullah, my long-time crush, the star of my secret daydreams, the reason I check Instagram like a madwoman? Yeah, no. I'd rather die.

"You're... you're..." I stalled, fidgeting with my purse strap. "...a driver."

The car went dead silent for two seconds before he burst out laughing. A real laugh this time, loud enough that I had to bite my tongue to stop myself from joining in.

"A driver?" he repeated, shaking his head. "That's the best you could come up with?"

Heat rushed to my cheeks. "Well, you are driving, aren't you?" I muttered defensively.

He gave me a side glance, still chuckling. "Smart mouth. I'll remember that."

I crossed my arms, pretending to sulk. "Mtsww, I shouldn't have said anything."

The hum of the engine filled the pause, soft music still playing in the background. I sneaked a glance at him again. His focus on the road was steady, but there was something in the set of his jaw, the calm confidence of his grip on the wheel, that made me feel both safe and restless at the same time.