Page 7

ANYA

“Tell me something no one else knows,” I don’t know where the question emerges from but it is spilling from my lips before I can stop myself.

A smirk plays on his lips. “Wow, you really took the opportunity. You’re putting me on the spot here.”

His smirk widens, revealing a dimple in his cheek that I have never seen before. It makes him look so unfairly handsome. “Alright then, since you asked so nicely …”

He pauses for a moment, thinking, and then leans in close so only I can hear him. My heart rate increases. The proximity of his body allows me to smell the cologne he’s wearing—a subtle yet distinctly masculine scent that makes me strangely lightheaded. As he begins to speak, his lips are right next to my ear, his voice soft and low. “Here we go…” he begins, his warm breath tickling my neck, sending a shiver down my spine. I try to focus on his voice and not on the way his closeness is making me feel. His scent, the heat of his breath against my skin, makes me feel strangely breathless. “All I will say is, jail is no fun.”

My eyes widen at his words, and my head snaps towards him. Our noses are almost touching, our faces so close together that I can see the freckles on his cheeks. I feel the warmth of his breath on my lips.

I’m so close to him that I can see the tiny scars on his face. The slight indentation left by a faded injury that somehow only makes him look more endearingly rugged. He’s not just gorgeous but also impossibly real and touchable.

“You’ve been to jail?” I whisper, ignoring the way his eyes travel between my eyes and my lips.

“Yes. Once.” His eyes glint in the dark. “In Monopoly.” There’s a pause. I blink rapidly. He bursts into laughter, his head thrown back in unrestrained guffaws.

I swat his arm playfully. “You bastard!” I huff, trying to suppress a smile. “You had me thinking you were some kind of hardened criminal or something!”

He grins, still chuckling at my reaction. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist,” he says in between laughs. “But seriously, Monopoly does bring out the worst in people. I’ve seen families torn apart over that game.”

“I can’t believe I fell for that,” I smile.

He shakes his head, still amused at his own joke. I can’t help but smile despite myself. His laughter is infectious. “It’s your turn now,” he says, leaning back against the rock and looking at me expectantly. If he thinks I did not notice how swiftly he changed the topic and make it about me, he’s wrong. But I will play along because I don’t want to intrude and make him feel uncomfortable.

What do I even tell him? I don’t have any secrets. I have not had an interesting life. All I ever did was study. Yes, I did have my teenage rebel period when I decided to get an extra ear piercing which I later regretted seeing the look on my parents face.

“Well, I won’t say it’s a secret,” I look into his eyes. “But it’s something most people don’t know about me. At least here, because I didn’t share it with them. I am a pure Desi girl. I love Bollywood music, movies, and everything that connects me to my roots.” I play with my hair, unsure whether I want to know his reaction or not. When I was new here and trying to make new friends, whenever I talked to them about Bollywood or India in general, they laughed at me. I mean, it can be a little vibrant and dramatic—fine, a lot dramatic—but still, it’s beautiful, and I love my culture. I just stopped mentioning it to everyone. If they don’t like it, they won’t hear it from me.

“What’s your favorite movie? Recommend me something.” He smiles. Seeing his eyes twinkle with curiosity, the way he is interested in knowing more about it rather than laughing at my choices, my heart beats faster.

“I am absolutely obsessed with Shahrukh Khan. So any one of his movies works for me. But I love, love, love My Name Is Khan and Dear Zindagi . They’re literally works of art.” I buzz with excitement. “There’s also Rab Ne Bana Di Jodi , even though it’s a little stupid. But my God, it’s just a wonder how his chemistry with any heroine is on point.” I smile widely.

I turn to look at him, finding him staring at me, a small smile on his face. “What?” I say, a little embarrassed about my ranting. He shakes his head.

“Guess I will have to check it out then,” he says. “I was not expecting that.”

I tilt my head in confusion. “What do you mean?” I ask.

“Seeing how feisty you are, I thought you’d be into crime documentaries and all.”

I smirk, feeling a little bold. I signal for him to come a bit closer. When he does, my breath stalls in my throat, but I manage to speak. “You’ve guessed it right! I do know multiple ways to murder someone. I like reading murder mysteries, and I’m obsessed with crime documentaries.” I wink at him.

“Please don’t hurt me, firecracker.” He raises his hands in surrender and I roll my eyes, chuckling.

“Oh, don’t worry.” I grin, leaning toward him. “I wouldn’t dream of hurting you…too much.” He laughs, the sound sending a strange flutter through my stomach. I realize with a start that I might actually be enjoying myself.

Before he can respond, I add quickly, “I’m not exactly a people person, you know.” I try to brush it off, but his expression shifts, his eyes darkening for a moment.

“Firecracker.” He smiles, the corner of his mouth lifting in a half-smile, that now-familiar nickname escaping his lips. There’s a playful gleam in his eyes as he looks at me, the intensity of his gaze making it hard to focus on anything else. He leans a little closer, and I can feel the heat radiating off him. “I’m glad to know I’m someone you trust then,” he murmurs, his voice low and smooth.

I lean back against the rock, trying to calm the strange flutters his voice causes in my chest. “Well, you better count yourself lucky then.” I huff, trying to sound nonchalant. “I don’t just open up to anyone.” That’s true and it’s a mystery even to me why I’m talking to this guy.

I study his face for a moment, taking in the way his smile curves his lips, the stubble on his jaw, and the way his eyes seem to hold a depth that I can’t quite decipher. It’s both fascinating and alarming how much he affects me.

My phone rings, breaking the silence. I almost fall off the rock, but he holds my arm, stabilizing me.

“Whoa. You okay there?” he asks, and I nod, trying to ignore the lingering touch of his fingers on my arm, that felt oddly electric against my skin. I reach for my phone and see that Sophia is calling me. Her name flashes on the screen, and I thank her silently for interrupting this moment.

“Hey! Where are you?!” she yells over the loud music playing inside, worry lacing her voice. She was with me the whole time but I felt guilty that she wasn’t able to enjoy the party because of me so after a lot of ‘I will be fine’ she finally left.

“I am in the backyard. I will meet you inside,” I add.

Daniel enacts something with his hand. “What?” I ask, covering the speaker.

“I will book you a cab,” he says. I open my mouth, but before I can say anything, he says, “Don’t protest, firecracker.” He sighs.

“Fine,” I respond.

“Meet me outside. Our cab is on the way.” Daniel gives me a smile as he looks up from his phone. My heart leaps at the sight of his dimple, and I smile back.

“Okay,” Sophia replies, and I end the call, standing up, feeling my sore bum.

“Ugh, it’s going to hurt, but I guess it was worth it.” I whisper.

“I will see you around then,” he says. I nod, trying to act nonchalant, but I’m acutely aware of the disappointment I feel at our time together coming to an end.

“See you around,” I murmur, my eyes lingering on him for a moment longer than necessary.

I turn to leave, but before I can take a step, I hear his voice again. “Firecracker.”

I turn back to him, raising an eyebrow, my heart skipping a beat at the nickname. “What?”

“Text me when you reach home,” he says. I can feel my cheeks flush, and my heart feels a bit drunk. I try to hide it, but I can feel a strange fluttering in the pit of my stomach.

“Why?” I try to sound unaffected, but my voice comes out a little breathless. He takes another step closer, his eyes lingering over my face.

“Because I want to make sure you reach home safely,” he replies. “And moreover, it’s my responsibility since I was the one who invited you here.” He gives me a forced smile.

I can’t help but feel a pang of disappointment at his words. Of course , I think bitterly. He's just being nice . I force a smile back, trying to hide my feelings that are hurt for some inexplicable reason. “Yeah, sure,” I say. “I will text you when I reach home.” And with one last look, I walk away from him.

∞∞∞