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Nisha’s sprawled out over his bed. Jack is half lying under her, grateful for any unoccupied space she’s left for him.
She looks over at him, half smile on her face.
“Your bedsheets are atrocious.”
He looks back at her. He’s not wearing his mask and his face is relaxed, but he manages to look mildly offended.
“That’s a lie and you know it.”
She outright laughs at him, grabbing his chin and pulling herself closer to him to smack a kiss on his cheek.
“Handsome,” she drawls out. “I have no idea who taught you interior design or,” she puts on a mocking voice, “ color scheme, but no one has bright yellow bedsheets.”
He lifts one hand up, gesturing around the room. “I have an aesthetic to maintain, Nish!”
She continues to laugh and even though he knows she’s laughing at him, he joins in because it’s hard to ever just see her smile without blood splatters over her face and the realization that unless he stops staring at her, someone is going to shoot him.
“Besides,” he continues through his laughter, “you weren’t making fun of my bedsheets fifteen minutes ago.”
She hooks her leg over his waist and rolls up, straddling him. She bites her lip and pushes his chin up, keeping a hand there, maintaining her control over him. Though, by the adoring look in his eyes, she’s well aware that she doesn’t need to get physical in order for him to be in her full control.
“Yeah,” she says lowly, “because there was something funnier between me and the bedsheets.”
He scoffs. “Nish, that’s so mean.”
“You love it.”
They stare into each others eyes. He feels like he’s been caught. She has him all figured out and wrapped around her finger. He’s just along for the ride.
He closes his eyes.
“Yeah, yeah I love it.”