Ruin Me Gently

Chapter Eleven

Scarlet POV

The springs creak dangerously under him, but he doesn’t stop. If anything, he amps it up, doing a ridiculous shimmy that makes me snort out a sleepy laugh.

“Come on, baby,” he yells, pointing a dramatic finger at me like I am some drunk bachelorette in need of salvation. “Make some noise! Tip your performers! Appreciate the fine art that is this body!”

I groan and cover my face with a pillow. “Zain, if you strip any further, I’m filing for trauma counseling.”

He flops onto his back next to me, panting like he just ran a marathon. Then he groans and throws an arm dramatically over his eyes.

“This friends’ day sucks if I’m celebrating alone,” he mutters, voice full of tragic, drunken sorrow.

I peek out from under the pillow and burst out laughing, because of course, only Zain would turn a hangover recovery day into a solo strip tease and a full emotional meltdown before breakfast.

“Give me five minutes to wake up and I promise your friends’ day won’t s*ck anymore,” I mumble, still laughing.

“Promise?” he says, peeking at me pitifully from under his arm.

“Promise,” I say, because honestly? Who could say no to him?

I groan and push the covers off, swinging my legs over the side of the bed while Zain watches me like an excited child about to unleash hell.

The second my feet touch the floor, he leaps up, grabs my hand, and drags me toward the closet.

“You,” he announces grandly, “are not allowed to wear anything boring today. It’s friends’ day. You must look ridiculous. It's the law.”

Before I can argue, he yanks out a pink fluffy robe covered in cartoon cats and flings it at me.

I stare at it in horror.

“Zain, no.”

“Zain, yes,” he sings, twirling dramatically before throwing himself onto my bed.

Sighing in defeat, I pull it on over my pajamas.

He claps like a maniac when I turn around. “My beautiful fluffy disaster,” he says proudly.

“You aren’t getting off easy either,” I say, rummaging through the closet until I find an old onesie, black and covered in tiny gold stars. I hurl it at him, grinning.

“Put it on, sparkle boy.”

Zain glares at me but strips down to his boxers without hesitation and wiggles into the onesie, grumbling the entire time. By the time we’re both dressed like idiots, we’re laughing so hard it takes five minutes just to stumble down the hallway to the kitchen.

The chaos only escalates from there.

Zain decides we need chocolate brownies, but neither of us reads the instructions properly. There is flour everywhere, chocolate smeared across our faces, and I’m pretty sure the eggshells end up in the batter because Zain insists cracking them one-handed is “s*xy.”

“You look like a Pinterest fail,” I laugh, doubling over when he tries to stir the mix and it slops out of the bowl onto the counter.

“You look like a fever dream,” he fires back, flicking a glob of chocolate at my cheek.

We are crying with laughter by the time we finally shove the mangled tray into the oven. I lean against the counter, breathless, watching him try to wipe flour off his onesie with absolutely no success.

That’s when it hits me, hard and sharp and so obvious I almost laugh at myself.

Why haven’t I asked him? Why didn’t I realise before? If I could trust anyone to make my first time not scary, not painful or awkward or something to regret, it would be him.

Zain, who always makes me laugh.

Zain, who always makes me feel safe.

Zain, who looks at me like I’m never too much, never too broken.

The thought lodges in my chest, warm and terrifying all at once. I bite my lip, watching him shove batter-covered utensils into the sink, singing off-key under his breath like the disaster he is.

For the first time, it doesn’t seem crazy, it feels right.

If anyone was ever going to take my virginity... I would want it to be him, even if he can never love me the way I want, even if it can only ever be this.

I’d still choose him.

The day passes. Liam is working and no doubt giving us space, knowing just how crazy Zain's best friend's day gets. He will come back soon. It's getting late, and he knows by now Zain will have wound down.

Which he has.

Right now, we are sprawled across the couch, wrapped in blankets, watching some horrible movie that even the actors seem embarrassed about. There are plates of half-eaten brownies on the coffee table and empty cans of soda scattered around us.

We are a mess, but it’s the best kind of mess. Weirdly, the brownies don’t taste like crap. They actually taste good.

Miracles do happen, apparently. I chew my bottom lip, glancing at him out of the corner of my eye.

He’s half-asleep, his head tipped back against the couch, eyes fluttering shut between scenes.

My heart hammers so loud it feels like it’s shaking the room.

I need to ask. I have to because if I don’t, I’ll regret it forever.

I shift a little, turning toward him, drawing in a deep breath before the words tumble out in a rush.

“Would you do it?”

Zain cracks one eye open and looks at me, confused.

“Do what?”

“You know,” I mumble, flushing. “Take it. Take my virginity.”

For a second, he just stares at me. Then he bursts out laughing, throwing his head back like I’ve just told the best joke of the century.

I sit there, completely still, waiting for him to realise I’m not laughing.

His laughter slows. He blinks at me, confusion crossing his face as he sits up properly.

“Wait. You’re serious?”

I nod, feeling my stomach twist itself into knots.

He stares at me like I’ve grown two heads.

“You do remember I’m Zain, right?” he says slowly, like he’s trying to be gentle. “The guy who knew he was gay before he even hit puberty?”

“I know,” I say quickly, sitting up straighter, needing him to understand. “I know. But can’t you do it anyway?”

Zain stares at me for a long second, then shakes his head firmly. “No,” he says. “Scar, I love you, but no. I’m gay.”

“I know,” I say quickly, leaning forward. “I’m not asking you to change that. I’m not asking for anything weird. I’m just saying... can’t we still have s*x? Just... one time?”

Zain stares at me like I’m speaking a different language. Then, in true Zain fashion, he yanks the blanket back from his lap, looks down at himself, and dramatically gestures toward his crotch.

“Hello,” he says, wiggling his fingers like he is trying to coax a dog out from under a bed. “Beautiful young woman wants s*x. Wake up.”

I stare at him, half in horror, half ready to die of laughter.

He squints down at himself, waits a beat, then shrugs. “Nope. Didn’t work,” he says cheerfully, pulling the blanket back over his lap.

I groan, burying my face in my hands. “You’re acting like an i***t,” I mutter. “Of course talking to it won’t work.”

Zain snickers and leans closer like he is sharing a great secret. “I can take it out, play with it, and give it a little treat. Tell it ‘good boy’ if you think that would help?”

I lift my head just enough to glare at him. “You’re impossible.”

“You’re insane,” he counters, laughing harder. “Baby, I love you, but there is not enough tequila in the world to make me straight.”

I sit there, heart pounding, watching Zain process everything. “Is there any way?” I ask quietly. “Anything that would make it possible?”

He lets out a heavy breath and leans back into the couch, running a hand through his messy hair. “Unless you suddenly have a s*x change overnight, no,” he says bluntly. “I love you, Scar, but I don’t get turned on by women. No matter how hot they are.”

His words should crush me. Weirdly, they don’t, because it’s not about making him want me like that.

It’s about trust. It’s about feeling safe enough to give something I have held onto for so long. I hesitate, chewing my bottom lip, then blurt it out before I can lose my nerve.

“What if Liam was there?”

Zain chokes so hard he nearly falls off the couch. He turns and stares at me, eyes wide in absolute disbelief. “Do you realise what you just said?”

I nod, cheeks burning but holding his gaze.

“No, you don’t,” he says, voice rough, almost laughing. “You just said for your first time... you want me to do it with Liam there?”

“Yes,” I say, my voice trembling but steady enough. “You’re the only one who makes me feel safe. And when it’s both of you... I don’t feel scared. I feel comfortable. Like nothing bad can happen. With Liam there he might be able to help keep you turned on enough to do it.”

Zain stares at me, torn between horror, affection, and some deeper emotion I can’t read.

Before he can say anything, the sound of footsteps makes us both look up. Liam walks into the room, freshly showered again, wearing nothing but sweatpants, a towel slung around his shoulders.

The timing couldn’t be worse. Panic slams through me. Without a word, without giving Zain a chance to respond, I jump up and rush to my room, slamming the door shut behind me and pressing my back against it, heart hammering like I just ran a marathon.

What the hell did I just do?