Page 97 of Tainted

“What made you grab that one?”

Zara looked down at the t-shirt, searching for answers.

“I like the details. I didn’t take you for the bedazzled type, though,” she chuckled, trying to smother her snort.

It wasn’t shit bedazzled about the Amiri t-shirt she was wearing. Zara liked to fuck with me the same way I did her.

“Vete a la mierda.”?*

Her neck fell to the left asking. “And what does that mean?”

“Fuck you,” I said, slowly enunciating each syllable.

“You did that already,” she retorted, sticking her tongue out.

Zara rose fluidly from the chair like only a dancer could, collecting trash from the table. She walked into the kitchen and realized she didn’t know where the trashcan was. Pointing at the cabinet, Zara hesitated as if she had never seen a trashcan behind a cabinet before.

“Time for bed,” She announced, making me laugh. “What’s funny?”

“Moms used to do Pops the same way. Whenever she was tired, it was bedtime.”

“And how long were they married?”

“A long ass time.”

“Then you should follow suit,” Zara suggested, snapping her fingers.

“Damn, jumping straight to marriage?”

“Baby steps. You’d have to ask me to be your girlfriend first.”

“Ask you to be my girlfriend?” My face scrunched up and showed Zara exactly how I felt about that.

“Let me guess. Kenyon Keyes doesn’t ask. He just tells women they’re his, and they agree because they’re so enamored with him?”

But that wasn’t it at all. Somehow, Zara’s presence forced me to admit the truth.

“I wouldn’t know. I never had a girlfriend before.”

My confession made Zara tilt her head, deciphering if I was fucking with her or telling the truth.

She wiggled her dainty nose to camouflage her smile. “Who said you have one now?”

“Me, because I tell people what to do, and they fall in line,” I mocked.

“That’s not how this works. You have to ask.”

“For what? I don’t see you objecting.”

“You don’t know that because you didn’t ask. "After going around the mulberry bush to make her point, her tone sounded identical to Mom’s.

I set the alarm and headed for the stairs while Zara’s point hung in the balance. This idea of formally asking Zara to be my girlfriend as if we were back on the playground trading lunch snacks was stupid.

Zara and I settled in bed, she pulled the comforter up to her neck because she had been complaining about the temperature since she walked in. I had given Zara a lot tonight—more than I had given most. I wasn’t adjusting the thermostat.

“Is it an ex-boyfriend out there I might have to shoot?” I asked, resting my arm behind my head as her toes slid underneath my leg.

“Nope. I’m pretty sure he’s not thinking about me.”

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