11
Raina
THE HOUSE WAS QUIET.
The kind of quiet I hadn’t felt since I moved in here.
Sure, I had moments of being alone when I was travelling… but after years of living by myself, I had gotten used to the silence. My home was always just my space. And I had found comfort in it. There was something so peculiar about coming home to just my cats and an empty space, knowing that each moment was something real. I didn’t have to pretend; I could let go of the expectations that came with me, even the ones that were from me.
I knew that living with them wouldn’t be a long-term solution, and eventually, I would have to find my own space. I still felt like a guest in their home, and the itch for my own routine and walking around the house in oversized t-shirts, bra-less, was real.
I sighed, the unwanted heaviness of a decision I didn’t even have to take loomed over me. When instead, my focus really should be on the decision I took last week.
After my lunch with Leah, I’d brush off her suggestion to take the role, but on my way home, it was her voice that still lingered in my mind. When I had walked into work, I had fully planned on politely declining Hazel’s offer and negotiating the chance to still work in Formula One. But when she’d asked for my final decision, to both of our surprise—although where mine was laced in a little shock, hers was one of joy—I had said yes. Because somewhere, in the corner of my mind, I couldn’t shake off the feeling of that maybe Leah was right. Maybe it wasn’t about Rihaan or my Dad or the walls I kept up. Maybe it was about me and the fact I needed to be honest about myself and what I wanted.
And what I wanted was to not hold myself back from taking a chance.
So, here I was, standing in the middle of their theatre room, staring at my calendar. The once neat rows were filled with meetings, deadlines, appointments and travel plans.
For so long, my schedule had been my perfect excuse. My shield that helped me avoid anything that involved my family or something that was too personal or too uncertain. But now? I had to rework it. Carve out time to shift priorities. Professionally and Personally.
I wasn’t used to this. My life was a controlled chaos focused on my work, and even sitting here re-evaluating the time I had to make space for myself felt like a vulnerability that I hadn’t expected.
The screen in the theatre room flashed; signally, it was finally connected to my laptop.
If I really was supposed to learn everything I had to about cricket in the next three months, I needed a proper schedule and what better way to do it than use the hundreds of footage lying around.
I knew I had to start with the basics, though; and while a part of me felt like there was a knot in my chest loosening up, there was still a voice in my head that couldn’t help but scream at me that I was heading for a crash, not a clean sweep.
Instead of dwelling on it, I made my way downstairs to the kitchen. From what I had learnt from Vedant, as he rushed out of the door to go god knows where that neither Rihaan nor Oliver was planning to be home tonight.
This was another reason why I was making the best out of their set-up, but if I wanted to actually make use of the time and not just have random information thrown at me, I needed to distress first.
And what better way to do it than with baking brownies?
I didn’t even need to check for ingredients because that was among the first things I did after moving it.
Baking had always been something I shared with Ma, but over the years, it had become something short of a coping mechanism. It gave me a sense of control when my mind was spinning. There was something so incredibly soothing about it like the precise measurements and the familiar scent of sweetness filling the air was all my thoughts needed to calm down.
Ma had a journal of recipes she’d given me; it was filled with some sweets we used to make together, some that were passed down but slowly, I’d been adding some of my own, like my brownies that I had perfected over time, which had also been my go-to for when I needed to unwind but also when I wanted to celebrate small wins.
Today felt like a little bit of both.
ONCE THE BATTER was set and in the pan, I gave the oven a once over, still waiting for it to preheat as my cats lounged nearby. Lilli was sitting at the counter, watching me with interest, while Milo was hanging out close enough but completely unbothered.
As happy as I was to make use of their fancy kitchen, it took me a good 10 minutes—and a video tutorial—to figure out how to set it to the right settings.
Knowing it would take another couple minutes, I turned to clean the mess I’d created, but as the music from my phone filled the kitchen, I couldn’t help but lift my whisk, pretending it was a microphone as my lips moved along the lyrics.
‘Dancing on the edge, about to take it too far
It’s messing with my head, how I mess with your heart.’
There was something so freeing about dancing when no one was watching, when no one cared. When I lived alone, it was a nightly thing. I belted out the chorus before crouching in front of Lilli, the sound of my off-key singing bouncing off the walls, but she was unfazed.
It wasn’t until I was mid-spin that I saw him.
Oliver.
He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, an amused smirk plastered on his face.
I screamed, dropping the whisk in surprise. “Oh my god! What are you doing here?”
I palmed my chest, trying to calm my racing heart. My eyes were still fixed on Oliver. He was watching me with a certain look, an intensity that I couldn’t place, something I had never seen in another’s eyes before and that sent a current through every nerve in my body.
“I live here, remember?” Oliver chuckled, that deep rumbling sound that somehow managed to both irritate me and send another shiver down my spine.
I rolled my eyes, adamant about not letting him show my true feelings. “You scared the crap out of me!”
“My apologies, ” His grin widened, clearly enjoying my brain lag. “If I knew I had to book in advance to get the front-row tickets to this private concert, I would’ve cleared my evening earlier.”
I grabbed the kitchen roll and threw it at him. He ducked, a proper laugh filtering out of him. “Shut. Up.”
“Hey, don’t be embarrassed. It was very entertaining. You’ve got strong vocals and great supporting acts,” He gestured to Milo, the little traitor , who was already by his feet. “Though can’t say I’ve ever seen someone sing to a whisk before.”
Blood rushed to my cheeks, “Seriously. If you want to live, zip it.”
His smile widened before he pushed himself off the wall, walking over to where I was. “Smells incredible. What are you making?”
I picked up the whisk from the floor, wiping away the small spatter it caused when it dropped with a wipe.
“Brownies,” I looked at the bowl with the remains of the batter before looking back at him with a smirk. “Want a taste?”
He watched me closely.
“What are you doing?”
My breath hitched slightly as I watched him. Instead of using the spatula that was already in the bowl or the spoon sat next to it, he reached for my hand—dipping it gently in the batter—and slowly brought it up to his mouth and paused.
He lifted an eyebrow, waiting for me to stop him. When I didn’t, something darker in his eyes appeared.
He leaned forward and made a show of tasting before he groaned. “Delicious,” His voice dropped an octave, a little rougher now, and I felt the buzz of it everywhere. And for a split second, we both stood there, the space between us charged with something unspoken.
Suddenly, the oven beeped, indicating it was preheated and broke whatever moment we just shared. I pulled my hand back and turned away quickly, my pulse still racing. Grabbing my oven mitts, I placed the brownies in before setting the timer, thankful for the distraction. I didn’t have to turn back to know he was watching me, and I could feel the warmth of his gaze wash all over me.
The air in the kitchen felt charged, and when I caught Oliver’s eye again, his expression was softer now; unlike me, he wasn’t trying to hide whatever he was feeling. It made me feel uneasy, but like it had before, the need to pull back wasn’t there today.
“So,” I said, breaking the silence. “What are you doing at home? Thought you had somewhere to be.”
“I’m right where I want to be.”
I faltered, taken aback by his response.
Oliver watched me silently, almost expecting me to pull back like I had done in the past. And a part of me wanted to—I was supposed to take it step by step, not break my barrier wide open.
My eyes trailed his stance. He was in a navy blue sweater that sharpened his features; his hands were tucked casually into the pockets of his faded grey jeans as he leaned back on the kitchen counter, still waiting for a response.
Biting my lip, I said lightly. “Smooth.”
It was small, but his eyes sparked. A mix of surprise and mischief was evident in them. “You think so? I can do better if you’d like.”
“Better, huh? I didn’t know I was dealing with an overachiever.”
His laugh was hearty and warm, and it sent a ripple of something through me, just like it did when we were in similar positions the other morning. “Careful, I might start to think you’re finally enjoying this.”
I rolled my eyes, though I matched his grin. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”
“Too late. I’m feeling pretty confident about it, actually.”
“Must be exhausting, carrying around that much ego all the time.”
“It’s not ego when you get results, love.”
“And what results are we talking about here?”
Oliver’s eyes darkened, his voice dropping a fraction, “We’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we?”
“You’re impossible.”
“And yet, you’re still not running away this time.”
My breath hitched slightly as I held his gaze, not wanting to let him have the upper hand so easily. “Maybe I wanted to see if you really could do better.”
His eyes dropped to my lips before meeting mine, and I could hear my heartbeat in my ears. But then, he gave me a soft smile and something close to relief washed over me.
“So?” His eyes darted to the oven behind me. “Am I going to get to taste the real thing?”
I let out a light laugh before turning to finally clean up. “Sure, I can let you know when they’re done.”
“You’re kicking me out of… my kitchen?”
I looked over my shoulder to see him wearing a small frown, though his gaze was amused, and I rolled my eyes. “It’ll be another forty minutes, at least.”
He shrugged. “I don’t mind.”
I narrowed my eyes in his direction, giving his body another look, but this time, my confusion was evident.
“What?” Oliver looked down at his attire, trying to figure out what was wrong. Nothing was wrong ; he looked good. Too good, which never helped his ego because he definitely knew it.
“You’re in your outside clothes,” I replied, in a duh tone. Well, because, duh.
“And?”
I turned sideways, exasperated. “What do you mean, ‘And?’ ? You’re telling me you don’t immediately change once you come back home?”
He grinned, clearly amused. “Not immediately, no?”
“Did you know bacteria can live on your clothes for up to 4 weeks?” I replied, and his smile dropped so fast, it was almost comical. “And, sure, you can’t get sick from it, but you took the tube home. Do you know how many germs and viral infections you can bring in and transfer on other stuff?”
He watched me, his hand slightly twitching. “I know you said it as a fun fact to make me change my clothes, but now I feel like something is crawling on my skin, and I need to go shower.”
I gave him a small nod as my tongue curled over my upper lip, and I tried my hardest not to burst out laughing.
Oliver walked backwards, slowly and deliberately, with a glint in his eyes, before giving me a wink and disappearing.
Shaking my head, I turned back to the task at hand, my mind still on him.
It wasn’t until I felt a faint ache in my cheeks that I realised.
I hadn’t stopped smiling.
Oliver
THE SHOWER WAS ICY COLD, but I desperately needed it. It wasn’t that it was warm outside. No, as we neared the end of the month, the autumn chill was starting to seep in. It wasn’t that I had returned back from a workout or training session. No, that was only the mornings.
Instead, I was fuelled with something more than just the need to get rid of that crawling sensation.
Today, the plan was simple: train in the mornings, grab lunch with Sean to go over the media activities planned for the next month and then go back home.
Home as in home.
I wanted to surprise Mum and Dad, but instead, I’d gotten a text from her saying that they were travelling down south for the weekend.
And as much as I wanted to see them both, in a weird way, I was glad I was home.
I’d walked into the house, only to be welcomed with the faint noise of clatter and music from the kitchen, which was alarming because Rihaan and Vedant were terrible cooks, and I liked my house too much for it to be on fire that I headed straight towards it.
The past week had been interesting… not exactly smooth, but not awkward either. There was a newfound rhythm between us all. She came and went, if it wasn’t work, she was in her room. Granted, I think that was partly because of the way Rihaan was avoiding her, and I could tell that retreating into her room had felt like the only option for her. I understood that it was her way of trying not to intrude on his space, which was why I was surprised to see her.
She hadn’t heard the front door open, hadn’t heard me walk in the kitchen.
Raina was dancing with her cats, belting out the lyrics to the song. I didn’t pay attention to a whisk as though it was a microphone.
Not many things made my heart stop. But I had never seen this side of her, never seen her so free. I felt all the air rush out of my lungs as I watched her. Her smile widened as her lips moved to the lyrics, and something unlocked deep in my chest—like a key finally turning in a lock made just for me.
As the thought echoed in my head, I wasn’t surprised. I’d felt it from the moment I had set my eyes on her, felt it each time I was near her, each time I talked to her. I just hadn’t been able to name it yet.
But what happened after had me completely surprised. She hadn’t pull back on me. I didn’t know what had changed, what was that click for her, but for the first time, she was giving me an inch, and I would take it at a turtle pace if it meant I could see her this way.
Stepping out of the shower, I quickly dressed up into my joggers and a hoodie, dumping my outside clothes in the wash bag for later before walking back down the stairs.
But as I reached the first floor, I paused. Milo was sitting in the doorway to our theatre room, and I frowned. He liked his space, but he was never too far away from Raina. On the other hand, if he was here alone, I don’t think I could take it as a good sign either.
I stood in the doorway of the theatre room, peering in and expecting it to be empty, but there she was, sitting in my chair, leaning on her side with Lilli curled up at her feet.
Raina’s head was fixed on the screen, though there was nothing playing on it. In that moment, she looked so content; it made my heart warm.
I walked in, and this time, she did hear me come in, but she just gave me a soft look. “Hey, that was quick.”
I shrugged, sitting on the chair next to her. “Got the job done.”
She pressed her lip as though trying not to laugh again. Little shit.
“So, what are we watching?” I asked, leaning towards her slightly, but instead, I nudged her laptop, which was balancing on the armrest between us and waking it up.
“Nothing—”
Nothing in the world could’ve prepared me as the theatre screen lit up. I blinked, double-checking if I was imagining it or not.
The screen reflected her laptop; a video titled ‘Cricketing 101: Guide for Beginners’ was on pause.
Unsure whether to laugh or call Rihaan, I turned to look at her. Raina had her eyes closed, her palm covering her mouth. But as though she could feel my stare, her eyes snapped open and connected with mine, and I couldn’t help myself. “Trying to impress me, love?”
She rolled her eyes, a sigh leaving her lips. “Only in your dreams, King.”
She has no idea.
“Is someone torturing you then?”
“Pretty much.”
“Wait, what?”
Raina sighed, grabbing the laptop between us and throwing it gently down on the floor next to her. “I’m doing research.”
“On…”
“Cricket.”
“No shit, Sherlock. What’s it for?”
“A project.” Her eyes flashed with irritation, though I could easily see the tiny twitch in her lips.
I grinned, thoroughly enjoying myself. “What’s the project? Maybe I can help.”
“No, I’m good.”
“Seriously?” I tilted my head. “You’d rather have some random guy teach you about cricket over someone who’s literally labelled as the prince of English cricket?”
I tsk’d but she finally laughed.
A win is a win.
“You did not just call yourself that,” She tried to get the words out in between her laughs, and I grinned.
“If you can’t escape it, you gotta own it. That’s the rule.”
“The rule?”
“Yep.”
“Rule of what game, exactly?”
“Mental peace.” I hadn’t meant anything more than that by it, but suddenly, her soft laughter died, and Raina watched me with a look in her that I’d never seen her wear before.
“So,” I broke the silence. “What do you say?”
“To what?”
“About me teaching you cricket?”
“You’re serious about that?”
“Sure, why not? What’s your deadline?”
She hesitated. “End of the year. I start early next year.”
“Start? Is it a filming thing?”
“A restructure thing. I’ve been moved to cricket.”
My eyes widened. “And you said yes?”
She pursed her lips, her brows raising as if saying, ‘ I’m shocked too’.
“I thought you hated cricket,” I tried to not sound offended when I said those words.
“I don’t hate it,” She said that with too much effort, and I was sure it was for my expense. “I just am not a fan.”
I gave her a look to continue, curious as to what made her say yes.
“I love F1, but I also love NexGen. I’ve been there for years now, and the work environment is good. I’d rather take the promotion I deserve and deal with cricket for a while over being fired.”
“You could’ve left, though. You’ve got enough of a brand to do it independently, and you’ve got enough resources to keep you going.” I supplied, watching her closely.
She chewed on her lower lip, and a realisation drew over me. There was a flicker in her eyes when I mentioned ‘resources’, and I got the feeling she didn’t like me mentioning that.
“You looked my profile up?”
I faltered. Damn it. I’d been so caught up in my thought chain of analysing her reaction that I didn’t even realise I let that slip.
“I did.”
“That’s it?”
“You fishing for compliments, love?” I grinned.
“I—well, no.”
I shrugged, giving her one anyway. “You are brilliant at what you do.”
A whisper of a smile. “Thank you.”
There was a silent moment, and neither of us was ready to break it. And before either of us could, her timer broke it for us.
“Brownies are done,” She stood up, and I nodded. Giving her space before following her to the kitchen.
Raina couldn’t see us, but we trailed behind her like obedient soldiers. We walked behind her and watched her as she checked the batter and she took the brownies out and set them on the counter top.
“Thought you said forty minutes,” I muttered, confused.
“They need to set before you can eat them,”
“Fair enough.”
Quietly, I watched her plate it up in a dish before following her back up the stairs.
“So, why not go independent?”
“I could, but I wouldn’t be able to do exactly what I’m doing right now, and that’s one of the things I really enjoy. To speak to the drivers right after they come off the track, heated as some might be, the raw reaction to the sessions is something I love. Yeah, sure, sometimes it’s media-trained responses, but you’ve got to find the right ones.” I watched her face, mesmerised by how it lit up. “And, there are still so many opportunities missing for women in sport. I want to make sure I make the most of it, wherever it may be.”
“Even more reasons for me to teach you then. Put that human emotion into it. I can give you a hands-on crash course. All the secrets, the insider tricks, the stats no video will teach you.”
She hesitated.
“What is it?”
When she didn’t reply, I offered. “If you don’t want my help, you can always ask Rihaan. Maybe it can even help you become closer again.”
“Yeah, right.”
I frowned, leaning back in my chair as I watched her. Maybe it wasn’t about who was helping her, but the fact that she didn’t want anyone to help her.
“How about we make a… bet?”
“A what?”
“A bet.”
“Whatever for?”
I shrugged, letting my mouth run because my head sure as hell had no idea what crap I was talking about. “I help you learn everything about Cricket, and you can teach me about… Formula One?”
“Oh, hmm.” She chewed on her bottom lip, thinking it over. “How would we determine the winner, though?”
“We could quiz each other.”
“That could work.” She nodded.
“What does the winner get?”
“What do you want?”
“Everything. Anything.” I murmured under my breath almost instinctively.
“What?”
“Nothing. If I win… I want you to go on a date with me.”
“You what ?”
“A date.” I couldn’t stop the smile forming on my face if I tried.
“You want to go on a date… with me?” Raina’s face was a mix of shock and surprise. “What if I win?”
“What do you want?”
“Hmm… I’ll need to think about it.”
I shrugged. “Doesn’t matter, I’m winning.”
“Cocky much?”
“It’s called confidence, love.”
Her eyes narrowed in my direction, though there was no bite to it. “Fine, let’s do it.”
My brows jumped in delight as I extended my hand in her direction. A current ran through me as her small hand fit perfectly like a puzzle piece in mine.
“Game on, love.”