Practice Makes Perfect

Zara couldn't stop smiling. It kept happening, every few seconds, like her face had developed a glitch and defaulted back to a grin no matter what else she was trying to do. She'd catch her reflection faintly in the passenger window, the dark glass throwing her back at herself in pieces: big glasses, short black hair, the line of her blouse dipping low enough that even she kept noticing it... and there it was again.

Grinning.

Oh my God, I have a boyfriend.

Her boyfriend was driving her home.

Her. Home.

Zara pressed her lips together, trying to contain it, trying to look composed. Sexy girls were composed, right? Mysterious. A little aloof. Not vibrating in the passenger seat like they'd just consumed three energy drinks and a life-changing revelation.

"Is this..." she started, then stopped, then started again. "Okay, so this is a thing, right? Like, people do this? The whole guy drives girl home after drinks and then..." She made a vague, fluttering gesture with her hand. "...things escalate?"

Roy glanced at her, distracted. "Yeah. I mean, sometimes."

"Okay, good," she said quickly. "Good, that's good. Just checking. Baseline expectations. I like to know the rules of the game before I play."

She paused. Then, more quietly, with a small grin she couldn't quite suppress: "Although I'm very open to improvisation."

There. That had been good. That had been smooth. Zara held the moment for about three seconds before it cracked and she let out a soft, breathy giggle, turning her face toward the window to hide it.

Okay. Still workshopping Sexy Girl. That's fine. Iteration is part of the process. Beside her, Roy didn't respond right away. That was happening a lot.

Her smile softened, just a little.

She risked another glance at him. Hands on the wheel. Eyes forward. Focused, but not in a present way. More like he was driving on instinct while his brain ran something else entirely in the background. He'd been like that since the bar. Since she'd come back from the washroom.

Zara shifted slightly in her seat, the fabric of her skirt riding up a fraction. She didn't fix it right away.

Testing.

Waiting.

Roy didn't react.

Okay.

Data point logged.

She leaned back, folding her hands in her lap, then immediately unfolding them again because that felt too stiff, too formal. Sexy Girls didn't sit like they were waiting for a job interview.

"So," she tried again, lighter this time. "Full disclosure? This is a first for me."

That got his attention, at least a little. His eyebrows ticked up. "What is?"

"All of it," she said, gesturing between them. "The outfit, the flirting, the..." she lowered her voice slightly "...being taken home by a man situation."

Her grin came back, softer now, more **** around the edges. "You're, like... my first everything in this category."

Roy's grip on the wheel tightened, just slightly.

There it was. A reaction. Zara's chest warmed. Okay. That worked. Good. Keep that one.

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear out of habit, pointless, with how short it was, and glanced down at herself again. She'd picked this outfit very deliberately. Deep red blouse. Low cut. Not subtle. Not her, traditionally. The skirt was even worse: tiny, fitted, the kind of thing she'd normally look at on other women and think how do you sit down in that without doing advanced geometry first?

And the heels.

God, the heels.

Her feet hurt a little, but in a way that felt worth it. Because this was for him. Because he was worth it.

"Do you like that?" she probed, slowly and playfully walking her fingers over the armrest and onto Roy's leg. "Being my first? Being the one to show me what it's like?"

Roy swallowed hard, his eyes going wide.

"Before you I'd never even looked at a man," she paused, then giggled, her fingers softly rubbing Roy's knee. "Well, I mean, I looked at a man. Lots of men. They're everywhere, you know. But, you know, look-looked at a man. Like the way I look at you. I didn't understand it before. But now I get it. Why all the girls go crazy for guys, why they seem to change, to give up so much of themselves. I get it. You make me get it."

"Zara, I..."

"I hope it's okay if I need you to show me what to do," she cooed, her hand sliding up his thigh. "Tell me if I'm doing it right and wrong. I did some research, but I think practice, the real thing, would be a lot better."

The muscles on Roy's leg seemed tight. Unsure if that was a good thing or a bad thing, Zara continued to softly rub them through the material of his pants. The reading she'd done had told her that men weren't that difficult to understand physically. A touch, a compliment, a flash of skin was usually all that was needed to get a man's attention. But Roy wasn't just any man. He was her man. Her boyfriend. The man who had somehow unlocked a part of her that she had always considered impossible, unreachable. Not by anything he'd done, but by who he was. Zara loved Roy Robinson more than anything she'd ever loved.

Zara's thoughts softened, drifting. She could tell her mom something that she thought she'd never say.

Mom, I have a boyfriend.

The words felt unreal. Like trying on someone else's life.

Sure, both of her parents would be upset that she had picked a white man, a man who was far from their family's culture. But she was sure that her mother would approve. For too long Zara had had to sit through pleading and lectures and comparisons to cousins she hardly knew.

"You're not getting any younger."

"You're wasting your life."

"Nour already has three children. When do I get to be a grandparent?"

No more. Zara and Roy. Roy and Zara. Her boyfriend changed everything. Everything.

She'd never wanted this before. Never understood it. The way her friends talked about men, about attraction, about that pull... she'd always nodded along, intellectually curious but disconnected. And now...

Now it was like something had switched on inside her. Not just affection. Not just romance.

Hunger.

Her thighs pressed together slightly before she could stop herself, a flush rising up her neck.

It was... a lot.

Exciting. A little scary. What if I do it wrong? What if I'm bad at it? The thought flickered, brief but sharp.

Zara glanced at Roy. Her Roy. Quiet. Distant. A little lost. Her expression softened again.

As long as Roy was with her, it would be fine. He had plenty of experience, and he loved her. Of that fact, Zara was certain. Completely. Overwhelmingly. Without a hint of doubt.

Roy loved Zara.

The car slowed, the GPS indicating a turn into a parking lot. Her building loomed above them.

Zara's pulse jumped instantly, all the nervous energy snapping back into place at once.

"Okay," she whispered, more to herself than to him. "Okay, this is happening."

Roy pulled into a spot and parked. The engine cut, and the sudden quiet felt significant. Like the world had just leaned in a little closer to watch. Zara didn't wait.

She was out of the car almost immediately, the night air warm against her skin, her heels clicking softly against the pavement. For a second she just stood there, smoothing her skirt, adjusting nothing and everything.

Then she saw him coming around the front of the car. Excellent. This was how it was supposed to go. Zara stepped forward, reached for him without hesitation, her fingers curling around his hand as she pulled him in.

And kissed him.

It wasn't careful. It wasn't tentative. It was enthusiastic. A teaser. A preview of what was to come.

Her lips pressed to his, warm and eager, and she let out a soft sound, something she'd definitely read was a good idea, and leaned into him just a little more.

This is what Sexy Girls do.

She hoped.

God, she hoped.

For a moment, Roy froze. Then he kissed her back. Not as intensely. Not with the same spark. But he did. When they broke apart, he looked surprised.

A little dazed.

Zara beamed.

"Hi," she said, a little breathless.

He blinked at her. "Hi."

Okay. Good. We're doing great. She squeezed his hand and turned toward the building, already pulling him along with her.

"Come on."

Inside, everything felt brighter somehow, even though the lighting was exactly the same as always. Her apartment door opened with a soft click. Zara stepped in first, then turned immediately, watching his face as he followed her inside.

Everything was perfect. She'd made sure of it. Books lined up neatly. Graphic novels stacked and sorted. Figurines arranged with careful precision. Not a single dish in the sink. No clutter. No chaos.

Just her.

Curated.

Ready.

"Well?" she asked, a little too quickly. "What do you think?"

Roy looked around, taking it in. "It's nice."

Nice.

Zara nodded, deciding to accept that as a win. "Okay, good. Good. That's good."

She moved through the space, energy spilling out of her again as she gestured to things, giving him a rapid-fire tour he absolutely did not need but was definitely getting anyway.

"Over there is my kitchen, for, you know, food. And there's a bathroom down the hallway. And that's my bookshelf, alphabetized, obviously, except for series, because breaking those up is a crime, and over there is... well, okay, that one's a limited edition, I had to hunt for it for like three months, it was a whole thing..."

She stopped herself.

Breathed.

Sexy girls do not infodump about shelving systems.

Right.

Reset.

Zara turned back to him, smiling, softer now. "Sit," she said, gesturing to the couch. "I got you something."

She moved to the kitchen area, grabbing one of the beers she'd specifically bought for him (she was pretty sure it was his favourite) and brought it over, placing it in his hand with a small flourish.

"There," she said. "Make yourself at home."

Then, with a little pause, a flicker of nerves breaking through the excitement, she said the line she'd practiced so many times in front of the mirror the night before:

"I'm just going to... slip into something... more comfortable."

Her grin turned slightly mischievous.

"Don't go anywhere."

Roy nodded, still watching her in that distant, unreadable way. Zara held his gaze for a second longer than necessary. Then turned and walked toward her bedroom, hips swaying just a little more than usual.

Commit to the bit.

The door closed behind her.

Silence.

Zara exhaled sharply, her back hitting the wood for a brief second before she pushed herself upright again.

"Okay," she whispered to herself, butterflies in her stomach. "Okay. This is it."

Her hands moved to the buttons of her blouse, fingers trembling just slightly as she worked them open.

Excitement bubbled up again, bright and unstoppable.

She crossed to her dresser, sliding open the drawer. She already knew what was inside. She'd planned for this. She'd planned the whole thing.

A smile spread slowly across her face.

"Okay," she murmured. "Let's do this."