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“Since you are the only girl who has ever seen me like this, I have nothing more to say.”

Her smile turned into a proud, full-blown queenly grin.

“Finish that sentence.”

“Hmm?” He frowned.

“Finish that sentence — ‘And, you will be the only girl… blah, blah, blah.’”

“And, you will be the only girl who will ever see me like this. Now come, give me some peppermint,” he pulled her chin up and tasted her lips again.

Another lazy swipe. She nuzzled under his jaw.

It was getting bristlier. He hadn’t shaved today.

The scent of his perfume was extra pronounced in the heat of their activities.

“I love this scent.”

“You? Love the smell of my sweat?”

“Ewww!”

“I thought so,” he chuckled.

“I love the scent of you… it’s different. Is it a perfume or a cologne?”

“Perfume.”

“The first time I smelled it in the plane I wanted to ask you the brand so that I could buy bottles and bathe in them.”

He laughed. Then rolled out of the bed, went to his room, and returned with a travel-sized white bottle with a golden cap. He tossed it on the bed between them and got in, pulling her back over him as she grabbed the bottle.

“White Oud?” She read the bottle. “Is it French?”

“Indian. I was using Gucci that Papa gifted me when I turned sixteen. Then a few years ago Harsh gifted me this and that’s all I’ve been buying.”

She took a deep whiff of the cap and went into Samarth-heaven.

“Sniff it from the better source.”

She kicked him. He kicked back.

“I am keeping this,” she clicked the cap shut and held it close to her chest.

“Doesn’t matter, because I am keeping you. All mine,” he rolled her back and kissed the top of her head, cuddling her like she was his personal teddy bear.

“Now get off! We are sweaty.”

“Did you forget, Ava? I never cared about that,” he kissed her jaw, moving down to the slope of her neck.

“You would jump into my arms after your win. Or grab my face for mad kisses after a biting loss. Sometimes you bit too,” he bit her clavicle again.

He seemed to like that spot. She wasn’t complaining though because so did she.

“Those were the days…”

“Ava?”

“Hmm?”

He rose up and kissed her temple — “Why did you leave cricket?”

“I still play if I get a chance.”

“I mean professional cricket. You had the talent, skill and the drive.”

“I had an accident.”

“When?”

“When I was 19. Season ball chucked right into my stomach.”

His hand went there, his eyes straying to check.

“It healed, didn’t leave a mark. But my parents got very scared.

Especially Mummy. It missed my lady parts by this much,” she held her thumb and forefinger together.

“I couldn’t play for weeks as I was in recovery.

And strangely, I realised I did not miss it or cry over it.

I had my design assignments, so I picked up my iPad and enjoyed the extra vacation with my iPad and liquid diet. ”

Samarth’s face contorted, his hand rubbing circles over her navel. “I sent you a happy birthday message every year, even on your 19th birthday.”

“And I said thank you.”

“You called me for my birthday every year, even on the 19th one. I asked you how are you. You lied.”

“It happened after that.”

He sighed. Then bent to her torso and kissed her navel.

“It’s a little late to kiss it better,” she quipped.

He kissed it deeper, making her joke fall flat and her eyes tear up.

It might have been a big deal for all of three days for a nineteen-year-old Ava but today it was a milestone blurred in the background.

She liked cricket, enjoyed watching it, even played with plastic or tennis balls.

But it wasn’t what defined her. Her mother had told her this when she was in recovery — “Do not let anyone or anything define you. It’s a part of you, anything good or bad.

It can’t stop or start your life. Only you can. ”

That had stuck. It had made life so much easier.

“I made you cry now,” he came up and wiped the corner of her eye. She smiled — “You do not define me, you know that?”

“Huh?”

“You are a part of me, always were. But I did not change the course of my life for you.”

“Then?”

“I did it because you were the only thing in my life whose not happening burned as badly yesterday as it was burning that March day in Saraswati Crest.”

His body fell beside hers, his head turning to her. Their eyes weaved into each other.

“I trudged through each year for my Papa and Nawanagar. But I sprinted through every month for that pre-birthday call. The moment it was over was the worst moment of my year. And the moment I woke up one day before my birthday it was like Diwali, Holi and kiddie birthday wrapped into one. You asked me if I was excited for my birthday every year, I said no. Because I was excited for that day.”

“I also asked you if you were happy,” she croaked.

He pushed more tears from the corner of her eyes — “And in that moment, I was.”

She paused, collecting her thoughts and her voice. It was rare to bring her to her knees like this, emotionally. Samarth had always had the innate ability to do that. Be it in confessions or big bombs of breakups or these afternoon make-out sessions under the beams of a Tuscan sun.

“Now let’s shower,” she kissed his bicep. “TMI but I am all dried up and itchy.”

He laughed, pulling her up with him — “Separate bathrooms.”

“Of course! I don’t shower with sweaty boys.”

Before he could grab her she ran into her bathroom.

“My stuff is in there!” He hollered.

“Wait your turn, Kunwarji.”

————————————————————

Showered and fresh, as she tightened the hotel bathrobe around her and pulled open the door, Kunwarji pounced on her.

“Eewwww…” she stopped, coming in contact with another showered and fresh body. Half-naked body. He was in a towel and nothing else, his hair flopping over his forehead. She reached up to push it back and he obligingly bent his head.

“You shower for years,” he complained, pushing the lapels of her bathrobe open. She pulled them shut.

“I am hungry, order food!”

“Already did,” he grinned. Her eyes widened.

“Something fancy but junk.”

“Lasagne, arancini and lemon iced tea.”

“They will serve us this menu at…” she checked the clock. “Five in the evening?”

“I can be persuasive…”

His doorbell buzzed and she pushed him off — “Go. I will blame you for killing my dinner appetite.”

“I’ll work it up again for you,” he playfully tugged at her bathrobe binding before turning and disappearing through the door.

Avantika went to the vanity stand, running a comb through her wet hair.

She hummed idly and paused. Why was there no noise of crockery on the other side?

Weren’t they serving the food he had ordered?

She chucked her comb and walked through their connecting door, only to come face-to-face with a familiar face, his hands up in gestures. His eyes met hers and widened. His arms dropped to his sides.

“Umm…” Avantika looked from him to her boyfriend. Then, raised one tentative hand — “Hi, Harsh. Long time.”