“Fuck you!” She pulled her hands down. “You are making fun of me!!”
He laughed. “I am not.”
She pulled the cloth from over her forehead and threw it at his chest. He caught it, dipping it into the ice bath, still laughing.
“We are not talking about this ever again, no sex talk with you ever…”
“Your body stirs the basest part of me even when I have given up on intimacy,” he laid the cloth on her forehead and tamped it down with his palm. Their eyes clashed, and her breath suspended at the intensity that his emanated. He slid down, putting the side of her head in close proximity to his lap.
“You don’t know what you do to me even when you lie here being tended to.”
She swallowed down her aching throat.
“Don’t mistake my control for indifference.”
She blinked.
“Hmm?”
“Hmm.” She made the answering noise. His finger stroked her cheek again and pushed into her dimple. And Amaal realised she was blushing, smiling, thrilled like she had never been before. He slipped back and she turned and laid a kiss on his thigh.
“Amaal.” He warned.
“You cannot give me a weapon and not expect me to use it.”
His free hand slipped under her nape and fisted her hair. She gasped. “It’s a two-way game. Remember.”
“What can you do? One player is sick.”
He leaned down until his mouth was over hers. His eyes were so close, she could see nothing but black.
“Not forever.”
His teeth pressed into her upper lip and released. A split second of pain before it was gone. Even on malaria medicines under fever, her stomach began to throb. She clenched her thighs together.
“What is it?”
“Period cramps.”
“Are they?” He smirked.
————————————————————
Samar got the alarm system installed, cooked her his crappy upma that she didn’t even pretend to like, ensured she was medicated on time and got her fevers down with a constant supply of Dolos and cold cloths. For the next three days, he remained in her house, pushing his date of travelling to Srinagar until her course of Lariago was drawing to its end.
“Amaal?” His hand patted her cheek.
“Mmm?” She squinted, wondering what time it was and where she was. The sun was streaking through her curtains. “What time is it?”
“Time for sunset.” He pressed a tablet into her hand. “And medicine.”
“Uggh,” she made a face, the taste of the medicine itself making her think of nausea.
“It’s the last one, your fever has also tapered in the last 12 hours. Come on. Last one.”
“I’ll vomit on you,” she warned, even though she hadn’t vomited at all in the last four days.
“Go ahead.” He helped her up, pushed the tablet between her lips and held the water up. She drank it down, suffering through a full-body shiver as the taste made her whole mouth bitter. He patted her cheek, grinning — “All done.”
