She gives me a look like I’ve offended her. “You don’t remember?”
I don’t. That’s probably a mistake. “…should I?”
She grabs the remote and presses play with unnecessary force. “My comfort show,” she says, like that explains everything.
The screen lights up.
I recognize it vaguely. Not because I’ve watched it, but because Radhika loves this one and forced me to sit down to watch it which I gave up in almost thirty minutes because I tend to stay ten thousand miles away from things that remotely scares me, but maybe I have changed because Ishika scares me and I love that. Besides there's no way in hell I will not do something she likes.
I lean back into the couch, stretching my legs out, trying to look like I belong here—which, annoyingly, I’m starting to.
She pulls the blanket over herself, tucking her feet under her and then throws some on me too, I try to hide my smile but I am definitely failing by the irritated look Ishika is giving to me.
I notice things like that now. The way she gets comfortable. The way she relaxes differently when she’s not trying to hold herself together.
The show starts properly and it starts coming back to me, how intense this was. There's tension building on screen, something lurking in shadows, music doing that thing where it climbs just enough to make your brain anticipate something unpleasant.
I shift slightly.
I glance at her. She’s completely engrossed. Eyes fixed on the smart television..
“Relax,” she mutters without looking at me.
“I am relaxed.”
“You just moved like something’s behind you.”
“There could be.” I say my face pulling into a frown.
“It’s a fictional show.”
“Tell that to my instincts.” She snorts.
I glare at the screen.
Something jumps. I flinch and she slowly turns towards me, her lips pressed together as if she's trying to contain a laughter but her eyes are giving it away. She’s enjoying this far too much.
I shift again, this time less subtly, leaning closer to her under the pretense of adjusting the blanket.
She shakes her head as I lean forward and very smoothly—at least in my eyes—wrap my arms around her shoulder. She narrows her eyes at me but smiles, "Will snuggling help you watch a kids show that should definitely not scare a thirty two years old man?"
"If I get to snuggle with you, I would watch anything..." I pull a face, "Even those Conjuring movies."
She laughs. Full, unrestrained laughter this time. And a loud noise from the screen makes my body jerk. I close my eyes briefly. "I hate this show."
She snickers, "let's not watch it then. I don't want to force—" I peck her lips to interrupt her sentence.
"No, it's your favorite show, I am watching it." I declare, "even if I pass out after it...or you may have to at least give me a CPR..." I beam at the way she gasps, "which I will happily accept by the way."
She rolls her eyes, "You won't have a say if it reaches to CPR, Golden boy. You would be happy to accept it from anyone."
I tsk, "I would rather have only you touch my lips." She blushes and I love that.
"Can we stop talking about your near death please...I don't like it."
I smile softly this time, interlinking our fingers, "I like it when you care for me."
"I always care for you golden boy...I may just not show it." She shrugs and I press a kiss in her hair and feel her melt a bit in my chest. She leans forward and closes the laptop as she pushes me on the couch. I follow her lead and my breath catches in my lungs as she lies down beside me.
