If by ‘hanging out like we used to’ you mean making out at the back of the cinema.?.?.
‘Give us some time to reconnect, you know. As friends.’
‘No way,’ I say. ‘No deal. Not happening.’
‘What, scared I’ll win?’ Salman asks with an infuriating chill.
I feel prepared. I really do think I’ll win when we present our matches to Sadia tomorrow. Sure, I hate public speaking, but I think my matches are solid. ‘As if. I already know I’m going to win.’
Salman pulls my chair back and swivels it towards him. His hands rest on the armrests, his face dangerously close to mine as he hovers over me.
‘Then change the bet,’ he says. AlI I can do is focus on his eyes. His stare is unyielding and it makes me weak. His eyes are this incredible shade of hazel that, when the sun shines on them, it makes him look like an angel. I try to concentrate on something else, anything else, but it’s impossible – and the worst part is that I don’t hate looking at him. I don’t hate the fact that right now I’m close enough to him that I could reach out andtouch the scar on his cheek, from the time he went headfirst into a glass wall at nursery. I don’t hate the fact that I can see the gap in between his T-shirt and his chest.
If I could, I would stay like this forever.
‘If you’re so confident you’ll win, there’s no harm in it, right?’
I swallow. I thought this win was going to be easy, but the more I think about it the less unsure I am. He could lose his job if I win, and he hardly flinched. Now, he wants one-on-one time with me. I’ve seen his desk, it’s in an absolute state, and there’s no way he can win because of how often Sadia has pulled him out to help her with other tasks.
But .?.?. would he be so confident if he didn’t have an ace up his sleeve?
And if he does, do I want him to play it?
‘That’s really what you want?’ I ask, my breathing laboured because he’s so close. All it would take is for him to move one inch forward and our lips would meet, finding their way back to a place they once called home.
‘Well .?.?.’ For a second he looks like he’s doing mental maths, trying to figure out whether or not to make a confession he’s been holding on to, and it fills me with adrenaline. But then he simply shrugs and says, ‘Yeah. That’s what I want.’
I inhale deeply. ‘OK. I’ll allow the change.’
‘You will?’ he asks, surprise etched all over his face.
‘Yeah.’
‘OK then. That’s that.’
‘That’s that,’ I repeat.
We stay there for longer than necessary, his arms still gripping, his breath whispering across my cheeks.
‘Pop—’
‘We should get back to work,’ I interrupt, afraid of what he might say. Even though my legs feel like jelly, I use them to push myself away from him. ‘I’ve got a bet to win tomorrow, after all.’
GC WITH POPPY
14:34
Poppy
He’s only gone and changed the rules of our bet
Shirin
?
what bet
who
