84

— H O O R —

. . .

He stands in front of me. The t-shirt he is wearing is white in color, not very tight around his muscular body but still hugs his figure nicely. His hair is tousled and still wet, but not dripping as before. A few dark locks kiss the skin of his forehead and with those sharp blue eyes, he stares at me. His lips are pressed softly.

But down there, it is funny, but not to me, that he is only in his towel and I do not know about that rest.

I know very well that I should leave but I just want to clear out one thing why can't he come with me to my Dad's house?

It is not a big deal, right? My house is not even very far away that Zahir would get tired then what is there that is stopping him?

“My wish,” he replies with a shrug and it irks me. What is his problem now? “Now, walk away. I need to cover my legs,” he says quietly like I am here to look at him while he drops his towel and starts wearing jeans, huh?

I am not interested. Not even a bit!

“I too am not intereste