Page 20

Nineteen. You’re my hero

Vera

“ T hat’s what friends do for each other.”

It’s the best lie I’ve told in my entire life. When we met a month ago, I only wanted to experience a few back-breaking and mind-blowing orgasms. Now, I want to be with this man and even though the past keeps replaying in my head, I’m not letting Elias go. I didn’t mean to say the words, but once they came out, I was afraid to backtrack. I might have said something even worse if I tried, but the truth is he’s been so much more than a friend since Mumbai.

And it fucking scares me.

This was the most unexpected twist to my year, but he’s been the best kind of surprise. Instead of saying that, I fumbled. I’ve never wanted to define the relationship before, never needed to tell someone I’m theirs, but with Elias I need to. He’s been mine for weeks. He should know I’m his too.

It’s been a week since he was reinstated on the line-up and he’s played two matches since his return, improving the Renegades run rate almost instantly. Now the team has a better chance of making it to the finals. He’s happier and his smiles are brighter. He’s also taken sex up a notch. It’s been wild and passionate, almost like he’s trying to leave his imprint on the inside of my body.

But it’s been so much more than that. He texts and calls more than usual, every time he gets a few minutes to himself. When he went out of town for one match, he enlisted Kuriakose to bring me a box of my favourite sweets. The nights he comes to my place after practise, we cook together and take turns picking what we’re going to watch. And I still called him a friend , for shame .

The Renegades were in Hyderabad for an afternoon match and chance to knock the Hot Shots out of the running. I’m worried about how hard Elias is pushing himself. He promises he’s spending lots of time in physiotherapy and Dr. Theo is ensuring he’s fit to play. In the line-up, he’s always part of the middle order, coming in right when the team needs a big score. I know he’s capable and will win every match he plays, but all of the research about rotator cuff injuries says too much use can do more damage. I’ve tried to bring it up in as many round-about ways as possible, but he assures me everything’s fine. And I do trust him, but the fear doesn’t go away.

Superstar

Just landed, I was thinking we could do something tonight?

Are you sure? We can order in and stay on the couch.

Superstar

Feeling a little restless and need to do something with all this energy.

I was in and out of meetings all day, and spent so much time dealing with Mr. Selvaraj’s asshole behaviour I missed his match. I had it ready and real life came crashing down on me. Frowning, I load up the highlights on my iPad and fast forward through the first innings and most of the batting. When Elias steps up to the crease, I notice he’s stiffer than usual. He plays well, getting those boundary shots and snagging the necessary runs.

But there’s this frenetic look to him as the game comes to an end. He removes his helmet during the walk off the pitch and the camera zooms in on his face—his eyes are dark and unfocused. I’m no body language expert, but I know Elias Joseph and my superstar isn’t at his best. It worries me, but like my concerns about his shoulder, he’ll distract me and I’ll let it go.

My phone buzzes with a text from Millie. Apparently she and her fiancé, Jonathan, have tickets to a secret gig they can no longer attend and she wants to know if I’d like them.

How about a secret gig and dinner?

Superstar

How secret is this gig?

All I’ve got is the venue and the time, so pretty secret?

Superstar

I’m in.

See you at 9:45?

Superstar

Can’t fucking wait to see you.

When I open the door to my apartment an hour later, he crowds me against the wall and presses his lips to mine. He kicks the door closed and I laugh before kissing him back.

“Don’t mess up my hair,” I mumble against his mouth and gently nudge him backwards.

“Wouldn’t want that.” He looks me over as I do the same to him. A plain black T-shirt hugs his torso, sleeves moulded perfectly to his biceps and dark blue stonewash jeans encase his legs. They’re cuffed at the bottom and lead to black shoes. In one hand, he has a dark cap different from the one he wore the night we met and in the other is a small bouquet.

“Are those for me?”

“Thought I could get all my favourite colours for my favourite girl, but this was all they had,” he says and hands the flowers over. My favourite girl . “You look beautiful, Vera.”

It’s not every day he says my name, but when he does it’s always with this tone of awe, like he can’t believe I’m with him. To be very honest, I sometimes can’t believe we’re standing together either. I pat his stomach and walk to the kitchen so I can put the flowers into a vase. I set it on my dining table, beside the succulent that’s struggling to stay alive.

“Maybe I should have brought you another one of those,” he teases.

“ Hilarious .”

Elias has discovered that while I love flowers and enjoy receiving them, I am not a plant person. I have the brownest thumb known to humankind and he’s witnessed it in person. The balcony has a whole bunch of pots with carcasses of plants that once had gorgeous lives. When he first saw them, he was amused. He brought me a cactus and within a week, it was dead. Then he got me an adorable succulent, claiming it would be impossible to kill it. I proved him wrong again. So he got me another one and that’s what sits beside the flowers now, silently waiting for me to kill it and put it out of its misery.

“You ready to go?”

I nod and hurry to my bedroom where I tug on my ankle booties and give myself one last look in the mirror. I do look beautiful. While I have zero issues with people checking me out or staring at my ample chest, I also know going out with Elias means if we draw too much attention to ourselves, something could go wrong. He’s been playing so well his face is recognisable in any situation. So I’m wearing my sleeveless black dress with a black sheer top that provides a little modesty and protects my boobs from being ogled by idiots in crowded spaces.

I lock up my apartment and follow him down to the car, surprised to find Kuriakose isn’t joining us.

“Gave him the evening off. He’s heading home for a family wedding tomorrow and didn’t want to keep him out late,” Elias says as he opens the passenger side door for me. “Besides, I want you all to myself.”

I click the seatbelt in as he slides in behind the wheel. This isn’t the first time I’ve been in the car while he drives, but it’s still very distracting. One hand is on the steering wheel as he pulls out of my building and after adjusting the AC vents and radio dial, his other hand lands on my thigh. I give him directions to the venue and put my hand over his.

“Congratulations on the game today.”

“It was a tough one,” he says, glancing at me briefly. “I always underestimate the Hot Shots until we’re standing on their field and dealing with their fans.”

“They were really vocal.”

He chuckles. “I’m sure the cameras didn’t pick up half the shit they were saying to us when we were fielding.”

“You understand Telugu?”

“Absolutely not, but they found ways to say it in every language possible. Variety of ‘motherfuckers’, ‘cocksuckers’ were tossed our way.”

“I didn’t know the Hyderabad fans hated you guys that much.”

“Neither did I. I know we have a rivalry with Bangalore and Mumbai, so I was surprised by today’s reception.”

“But it was a good game. You played really well.”

He stops at a red light and turns to me, the dreamiest smile on his face. “Still can’t believe you’re watching cricket after all the shit you said about the game.”

“I’m watching you play cricket.”

With a shake of his head and half a smile, Elias looks ahead and follows the map instructions as he shifts lanes. He turns into a dark road, the only light provided by a single streetlamp a few feet ahead.

“Are we in the right place?”

I nod and peer out the window. “The Marquee? 1 used to be a popular spot for local bands to perform when I was growing up. It has this whole prohibition era thing going on. They never carded us, even when we were sixteen. They shut it down a few years ago because the owner was arrested for selling drugs to minors.”

A man in a reflective vest beckons us forward and gestures to the window. We show him our passes and he waves us through. Elias leans forward as well, hoping to clearly see this place I’m talking about. There are enough cars in front of us that the headlights are showing hints of the old stone building.

“Built back when the British were here, I think it was originally meant to be some kind of school or something. But after independence, they ripped out the insides the best they could and turned it into a performance venue. About two years ago, an old classmate of mine bought and renovated it. I’ve seen pictures, but never been inside.”

“I’m always so impressed by how much you know of this city.”

I laugh and flip my hair over my shoulder. “Always loved the history of this place and growing up here helped me dig deeper.”

Another person in a reflective vest stops us and opens my door. I glance at Elias and he looks uncertain about handing his keys over, but gives in reluctantly. He rounds the car as he slides his cap on and stretches a hand out to me. I adjust my dress and slip my fingers through his. We follow the other guests heading inside and a part of me wonders how much of a secret this is.

“Stay close to me,” he whispers and I tuck myself into his side, looking at everyone, attempting to see any familiar faces.

Once inside, our passes are scanned and wrists are stamped. As we move further into the Marquee, Elias tenses beside me. There’s a lot of people and everyone’s standing around talking to each other. I forgot how big the place is. Even with the high ceilings and giant stone pillars planted randomly, the venue feels cavernous. Elias keeps his head down as I tip mine back, smiling as I take in the old chandeliers that were there back in the day. The stained glass has been updated, replacing the religious figures with famous rockstars.

“Wanna find a table?” he asks softly, warm breath brushing against my ear.

“I see one in the corner.” I wave in the general area of the table that has the least amount of lighting on it, plus, it’s equidistant from the stage.

“Go snag it, I’ll get us drinks.”

“Hold on.” I grab his arm and he frowns, lifting his head slightly to meet my eyes. “If you go anywhere near large groups of people, they’re going to recognise you.”

“And you’re going to get pawed at,” he replies with a clench of his jaw.

“You should know me better by now. Nobody’s getting anywhere near this body. Unless they’re you.”

He doesn’t seem convinced until someone bumps into him and we notice the number of people is increasing. Sighing in defeat, he gives my hand a squeeze and walks toward the table as I head to the bar. I get us beers and push through the growing crowd to find Elias looking at his phone. I set his drink down and slide in beside him, my eyes drawn to his screen. An article from a sports website is loaded up and the headline is not in his favour.

“Why read the bullshit some pundit is saying when you know what you’ve been doing?” I ask, nudging him gently.

“I don’t know. I don’t usually care, but this guy was very positive about me when I first started out. Now he’s…”

I lean closer so he can hear me. “Does his opinion matter to you that much?”

He turns, our faces inches apart. “Not really. I…I want people to like me.”

“They do like you. They’re also envious of you and your success. That’s when assholes start writing stupid articles.”

“I take it this has happened to you a time or two?”

I shrug and take a swig of my beer. “You don’t get to where I am without everyone thinking you slept your way to the top or used your body to get investors. It’s the price anyone, especially a woman, pays to achieve greatness.”

“Seriously?”

“And it’s worse when another woman writes the article and without any sources or fact-checking or anything to back her claims. So don’t let whoever this person is undo all your hard work. He’s probably sitting behind a desk, watching you on a screen and criticising how you play when he hasn’t attempted it even once in his life.”

He’s watching me, but I don’t take my eyes off the sound techs setting up the stage.

“You’re my hero, Vera.”

There’s something in his tone that makes me frown as I turn to him. His eyes are sparkling and his mouth is turned down slightly.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“ Elias .”

He shakes his head. “Just glad you’re here with me.”

There is something lingering beneath his words and while this isn’t the place to try and uncover what’s going on with him, I know we’ll have to talk about it eventually.

“I’m happy to be here with you too,” I say and press my lips to his. His hand strokes along my jaw before he cups my face and deepens the kiss. A content sigh slips from me as I lean in for more, the thunder of drums breaking us apart with a start.

“Hello Chennai! Welcome to the Marquee, we’re Comma Toes and you’re in for one hell of a show!”