Ruin Me Gently

Chapter Ten

Scarlet POV

One minute, Zain and Liam are lost in each other, and the next, Zain freezes and swears under his breath.

His hand lifts off my thigh like he’s just realised I exist. “Sh*t, sorry, Scar,” he mumbles.

“Hey, it’s fine. Who doesn’t want to be the grasping support for two guys trying to f*ck each other in a car?” I smirk, trying to ease the tension.

“I didn’t even notice,” Zain mutters, his head falling forward until his forehead rests against my back, right between my shoulder blades. “I think I’m drunk,” he grumbles.

Oh no. I tense immediately. “Don’t you dare throw up on me, Zain!” I snap, twisting to glare at him.

He just chuckles, the sound low and rough against my spine.

“As long as it’s not me, I’m fine,” Liam says, holding up his hands innocently.

“It’s good, we’re here,” Callum calls back as the car slows to a stop.

The moment it does, I’m out of the car, turning to check on Zain.

Yeah, the booze, the traveling, and the rush of fresh air have hit him hard. He’s wasted.

Between the two of us, Liam and I manage to half-carry, half-drag Zain up the stairs and into the apartment. He’s mostly dead weight, laughing under his breath like he thinks he’s helping. Spoiler alert, he isn’t.

We finally get him inside and steer him toward the kitchen. I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and slam it onto the table in front of him.

“Drink,” I order.

Zain slumps into the chair, forehead dropping heavily onto the cool surface of the table. He groans like he’s dying, arms sprawled out in defeat.

“I’m gonna shower,” Liam says, already peeling off his jacket as he heads toward the hallway. He gives me a quick smile, like he knows exactly what kind of disaster he’s leaving me with.

I sit across from Zain, watching him breathe heavily against the table.

After a minute, he lifts his head just enough to look at me, his eyes bloodshot and miserable. He grabs the water and takes a few long gulps before setting it down with a shaky hand.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, voice hoarse and wrecked.

I blink at him. “For what?”

He scrubs a hand over his face, looking genuinely horrified. “For grabbing you. For... having my f*ck*ng hand on you while I was making out with Liam. I didn’t even realise, Scar, I swear. I would never—” He cuts himself off, swallowing hard.

I stare at him for a second, seeing past the alcohol haze to the pure mortification written all over his face.

This isn’t Zain being dramatic or teasing. This is real. He’s horrified.

“Zain,” I say softly, reaching across the table to nudge his hand. “It wasn’t like that. I know you weren’t... you know. Trying anything.”

He groans again and lets his forehead fall back to the table with a dull thunk.

“I feel like such a d*ck,” he mumbles into the wood. “You should’ve shoved me or something.”

I laugh under my breath. “Yeah, because that wouldn’t have made this car ride even more memorable. You throwing up after I accidentally elbow you in the stomach.”

He groans louder, and I lean back in my chair, smiling despite myself. Only Zain would get blackout drunk, accidentally grope me, and then apologise like he committed a war crime.

“It’s fine,” I say again, gentler this time. “Seriously.”

He lifts his head just enough to squint at me.

“You’re too nice,” he mutters. Then he drops it back down with another heavy sigh.

I just shake my head, sitting there with him, letting the weirdness settle between us.

Because honestly? It isn’t weird. Not really, it’s just Zain, and somehow, that makes all the difference.

He lifts his head again, his eyes still glassy but a little more focused. “I swear I’m gonna make it up to you,” he says seriously.

I groan, dropping my forehead to the table this time. “If it involves another s*x toy shop, I’m out. I can’t survive that twice in one week.”

Zain chuckles, the sound low and warm. “No, no torture tomorrow. I promise. Just you and me. Best friends. Movies that make us ugly cry and so much chocolate we hate ourselves after.”

I lift my head and smile at him. “That actually sounds perfect.”

He beams, looking way too proud of himself for someone who is still clinging to the table like it might float away.

The sound of footsteps makes me glance toward the hall just as Liam comes back in.

He’s shirtless, just wearing loose gray shorts, his hair damp and messy, water still clinging to his skin in beads that slide down the hard lines of his chest and abs.

Zain lets out a rough groan, dragging his hand down his face. “Jesus, someone arrest him,” he mutters. “You can’t walk around looking like a wet dream when I’m already struggling to remember my own d*mn name. I still want to try f*ck you.”

Liam laughs, raking a hand through his wet hair as he crosses the kitchen. “You’ll be lucky if you can even figure out where your c*ck is tonight with how drunk you are.”

Zain just moans louder and slaps the table weakly.

I snort into my hand, trying and failing to hide my laughter, he's not wrong though, I feel the same way. Only... I’m not drunk enough to have an excuse.

Liam carries Zain out practically, and I go to bed. I climb into it, and stare at the ceiling for hours before falling asleep.

Something bounces next to me, jarring the bed so hard I grunt without meaning to.

Then I hear it... singing. It's terrible, and off-key. I crack one eye open just in time to see Zain standing at the foot of my bed, arms spread wide, belting out some dramatic ballad I don’t even recognise. His shirt is already off, and he’s making a show of tugging at his jeans like he is performing in some terrible low-budget male revue.

“Is this what you wanted, Scarlet?” he croons, throwing his head back with a wild hair toss. “Is this the love you crave?”

I blink at him, half-asleep and completely baffled.

He starts bouncing on the mattress, hands sliding down his sides in what can only be described as the worst attempt at a body roll in human history.