Nick entered the TV room with only his boxers and drying his head with a towel, spotting me lounging by the sofa. I moved my gaze from the balcony towards him.

"You're thinking again," he said. "And you're selfish enough not to share it with me."

"I'm thinking what to cook for tonight," I lied.

He laughed, chucked the towel to the side and sat next to me. "We just ate and you're already thinking about dinner? That's clearly not what's in your head right now. Don't lie."

I smiled, knowing that I might get caught for lying. So, I decided to divert the conversation, "What else do you want to do after this?"

"I need a massage on my back," he said, squinting his left eye to almost a wink. "I want you to do me like the ones you did before, you know, the kneading. That one was really good."

"You mean one with the pressure?" I asked.

"Yeah, that one," he affirmed with a couple of nods. "And then most probably after that I'm going to catch up on Madrid's last night's match."

I looked at him in disappointment, "You didn't tell me Real Madrid had a game last night. I wouldn't have asked you to come and help me with the packing."

"I don't necessarily have to watch the game live," Nick said, scuffling his damp hair and combing it with his fingers. "I can watch them whenever I want to."

"But you love Real Madrid, shouldn't you be prioritising something that you love?" I pointed out.

"And I did, so?" he gestured at me, leaving a pause for me to digest before continued, "Again, you judged my priorities based on some men? That's why you are born a woman."

'Maybe,' I said quietly to myself. He turned his body towards me, folding one leg on the sofa. He lifted his hand to stroke my hair gently, looking at me with his soft eyes and kissed me. I returned the gesture, taking his other hand and kissed the back of it. Then his hand crawled from mine towards the opening of my shirt, looking for ways to unbutton me.

"Your dad didn't ring you up anymore?" I asked, distracting him. "Don't you have any assassination to do? No drugs to deliver?"

"It's not an everyday job," he replied, laughing at my attempt to divert his attention. "He still handles the main operation while I only handle logistics. If he doesn't call me, I don't have to be there."

"Okay," I mouthed. "I was just curious."

"Why are you still interested? Do you want to see another mutilation?" he asked playfully, biting his bottom lip.

"No, I was just thinking that maybe..." my voice trailed off and I shook my head. "Nothing, I shouldn't be talking about this."

He moaned quietly, taking my hand towards his boxer and forced me to feel his erection. "Maybe we should talk less and do more, right?"

"What makes me irresistible to you, Nick?" I asked abruptly with my hand still on his crotch.

He stared at me for a while, taking a deep breath and exhaled loudly, not in an agitated way but calming himself attending to my deferral. He turned away, leaned on his back and replied, "I actually have a fetish for something irregular, out of the ordinary, something feisty. Like, I'm curious to see feminine beauty that lies beneath an androgynous tomboy, makes me want to just suck her out 'till it resurfaces."

"Wow, that's scary," I said, propping my elbow at the back of the chair.

"And I do have a thing for older girls," he continued. "I find their maturity and experiences to be beneficial."

"But I don't have that much of an experience, you aced at it. You even had escorts," I debated.

"I wasn't talking about sex, you little twit," he flickered his finger on my forehead that I flinched. "I was talking about non-coition experiences. Like you, you aced me by three years, there's definitely something you can teach me."

"How was I to know?" I rubbed the spot on my forehead which Nick flickered. "You had your hands all over me and talked dirty."

"Well, you're the one who wanted to talk," Nick countered. "So, are done talking?"

"Not really," I said and went on. "So, I somehow ticked your boxes? I'm your pot of gold."

"Nope, better. You're the leprechaun," Nick answered with a sly grin. "So where's the three wishes you promised me, my foxy little leprechaun?"

I didn't reply but to smile at him. He bent over and kissed me and I tasted his mouth tenderly. But it was not to my fullest satisfaction. There was nothing wrong with Nick, he was wonderful. It was just my heart that felt unfulfilled and my mind still veiling with a lot of things especially about us.

"What's wrong now?" Nick asked, pulling himself away from me, sensing my discomfort.

"Are we really going to be like this forever?" I queried.

"What's wrong with that? What do you mean?" Nick's voice sounded frustrated. "You have to tell me what's in your mind. I can't read you like a book."

"I believe in marriage, Nick. A family without marriage to me is null and void," I said finally and he groaned to this. He got up from the sofa, padded across the wooden floor towards a mini bar and took out the half empty bottle of Dickel No. 12 and a tumbler while patiently listened to my explanation, "Of course you vowed never to leave me but what if situations occurred, like death for instance, where you and I are forced to be separated. What will I be? I'll just be another used item depreciated into time."

He poured the whiskey out, filling up less than a quarter of the tumbler while responding to my statement. "Why must you need to put relationships on a piece of paper? You know, for a person who had lived here all her life, I'm surprised you actually have a shallow mind."

"I can't help it if my religion and the way my family brought me up drive me to think this way," I debated while he regurgitated his drink.

"So, you're not as liberated as I thought," he said disappointedly. "Don't bring the religion matter into this picture, Zahida. Your God is the forgiving type."

"It's your former God."

"Don't put this on me. It's you. It's your thinking!" he exclaimed, pounding the empty tumbler on to the top of the mini bar counter. "You value yourself like a worn out shoe. Why can't you see yourself like a timepiece passed on for generations?"

"But you need to understand –"

"We're done arguing for now, Zahida Jafri! Get up and face the balcony now!" he dragged me from the sofa and pushed me to the sliding door of the balcony.

I knelt down facing the balcony with my palms raised to my shoulder height and pressed against the glass of the sliding door, while Nick frisked me away trying to get his three wishes done. He yanked my trousers down while I enjoyed the view of the balcony even more in depth, trying to distract myself from whatever he was planning to do to my body.

Looking at his cosy garden, I wasn't really sure if this was Nick's work or he hired a gardener to mend the balcony but I admit it was beautiful. Artificial grass covered the entire balcony floor with white, grey and black pebbles arranged neatly in random by the left side corner beneath a wooden platform. A couple of small pots with colourful petal flowers inside a wooden crate and a medium size pot with a different type of flowers inside the garden basket were arranged together on the wooden platform. I looked up and saw a few hanging pots and baskets dedicated for growing edible and crawling plants. The sitting area was on the left side where a set of folded chairs and table stowed by the wall and an encased medium size DIY cabinet with built-in LED lights to house a small pot of marijuana plant.

Then I shifted my gaze towards the horizon beyond the balcony. White cotton clouds with some darker shade of grey at its edge drifted in a clear baby blue sky like a painted picture turned to life. The view reminded me of Scotland, slowing my heart beat at a normal rate, enjoying the kind of view that I'd love to wake up to.