Aman
She’s something else.
I don’t remember the last time I walked on the streets of this city that I love so much.
Growing up, Papa would take Gagan, my elder brother, and me on walks along Marine Drive every weekend.
He bought us cotton candy and pizza at the pizzeria by the sea.
Every Saturday, when we left the house, Ma would warn us not to eat while we were out, and when we came home we’d lie to her about the pizza and settle in for a second dinner.
It was the perfect crime—or so we thought.
Once Gagan flew off to London for college when he turned seventeen—I was fourteen then—I slowly got busy with friends over the weekends and the walks were reduced to just framed photographs of the three of us on my nightstand.
Until today.
I knew I would reach home from the bookstore in about seven minutes if I took the car.
But a walk sounded right today.
I needed a few minutes to myself to play back in my mind every second I’d spent breathing the same air as Avani.
I wanted to hit pause every time she smiled to reveal the faintest dimples right below the curve of her lips, every time she tucked her hair behind her ear to buy a second to think about what she wanted to say next, every time she bit her lip to hide a smile when she knew I was looking at her, every time she rolled her neck back to stretch and revealed a mole near her left earlobe and every time she looked in my direction with those big, beautiful eyes.
I laughed a little when I caught sight of myself in the reflective door of a store I walked past.
I’d never seen that smile on my face.
Shy and slightly wonky.
Like I was thinking about something I didn’t want anyone to know about.
Which was true.
I picked up the pace.
As much as I was enjoying this lazy walk, I also had to get some important work out of the way before the happy hour at the bookstore.
Martin was right when he had said my office was in the neighbourhood, but he didn’t know that my home was also just a couple of minutes away.
Soon I was waiting for the private elevator in the lobby of our building.
I entered and smiled at the liftman who’d worked for us for the past nine years.
My parents had bought and renovated this building a few years back and it had been our home ever since.
And now that Ma and Papa were in Mussoorie and Gagan was working in London, the top three floors were all mine.
I nodded at the liftman as I exited the elevator and stepped into the lobby that led to my penthouse apartment, taking my jacket off and placing it on the marble console table in the entryway of my living room.
My phone hadn’t stopped buzzing since I had left office earlier that morning.
I needed to get to it before I could leave for the bookstore again.
I took my laptop and walked into my home office.
The next few hours zoomed by on endless calls and e-mails.
And the next time I checked my watch it was forty minutes past 8 p.m.
Goddammit.
Avani
Veins porn.
Nobody is an hour late to a party unless it has to do with:
Being (or trying to be) fashionable. Mumbai traffic. (In ’s case this would be an unacceptable excuse, since he lived and worked somewhere in the neighbourhood. I stalked him, so I know. No reason for judgement here, please.) Another party.
(He didn’t want to leave it to come to a humble bookstore happy hour with nine people and limited alcohol, which is irrelevant because he doesn’t drink.)
‘Maybe his date is late,’ Martin drawled. I flipped him the finger and rolled my eyes.
‘Why are you getting so worked up, Ani?’ Rhea said. ‘It’s not even a date. You can just text him your apology. Or DM him on Instagram. You’ve stalked him already.’
Martin and Rhea high-fived on that.
I rolled my eyes. Who even high-fives any more? It’s not 2002.
I walked over to the makeshift bar to join Maya, pausing on the way to steal a glance at the road outside to see if I could catch sight of .
What if he saw the ‘Closed’ sign outside the main entrance and thought he’d been pranked? Should have told him the secret party had a back-door entry, right? Right.
Maya was sitting on a stool, looking at her phone.
She was the least dramatic among the present company.
Especially in matters of the head and heart.
She had started her design studio all on her own when she was just nineteen and was now considered one of the city’s top graphic designers.
She spent her days being the boss bitch at her studio and her nights being a recluse, tucked away in her swanky four-bedroom apartment on Carter Road, painting canvases that sold like hot cakes at high-profile exhibitions.
She was the wise elder in our little group of three strange women.
The first time I’d met her at a pottery class I was struggling to get my clay to not wobble off the wheel.
She was sitting next to me, already having finished moulding two plates and one pot, and offered to help.
She didn’t speak much but there was something so warm and calming about her that I found myself wanting to spend more time by her side.
By the end of the class we had exchanged Instagram handles.
And now, a year later, Maya was not just a close friend, but also one of my biggest inspirations.
‘He’ll come if he wants to,’ she said in her calm voice without looking up from her phone. ‘Stop acting like he’s the first guy you’ve ever seen.’
‘I’m not,’ I snapped. ‘I came over to spend time with you.’
Her eyes met mine as she picked up her drink and squeezed my arm. ‘Desperate is a horrible look on you, Ani. You’re gorgeous.
Now finish your cocktail and say that to yourself.’ She slipped her elbow through mine.
We downed our Pina Colabas (Martin really needs to name his cocktails as well as he makes them) and had just begun to raise our empty glasses to each other when a familiar scent hit me in the face like a saucepan.
Aftershave. I turned on cue.
There he was.
Looking different from when I had seen him earlier in the day.
His hair was wet, which meant he had just showered, which meant he had come from home, so ten points.
He’d shaved for tonight, which counts as effort, so another ten points.
And he wasn’t dressed in his usual suit and tie.
Instead, he had on impeccable dark blue jeans that hugged everything the way they deserved to be hugged, a pair of black Vans sneakers and … wait for it … a black button-down shirt that fitted him like it was stitched after he had worn it.
It had floppy collars that fell neatly on each side; the fabric stretched across his broad shoulders and slid down his biceps, wrinkling ever so slightly when his arms moved.
He located Martin first and shook hands with him.
He’d casually folded the sleeves right above his elbow, showing just enough forearm for me to let out a quick breath before allowing my eyes to track the veins on the back of his palm when he lifted his hand to lightly touch his collar.
But my gaze automatically stopped en route at the slit of his shirt on his chest where the second button lay casually open, revealing rogue strands of hair.
Aren’t we easy? What does it take, really? Just some forearm and chest hair? Spicy.
‘Ani!’ Maya interrupted the distinctly illegal turn my thoughts had begun to take. ‘Go on!’
She nudged me in his direction and then pulled me back by my shirt sleeve to say, ‘Behave, okay? Be nice.’
Avani and her Virgin.
‘Look who’s finally here! We weren’t worried at all that you’d ditched us!’ Martin yelled over the music when he caught my eye.
I laughed. ‘Looks like I’m late,’ I said, walking over to the coffee bar, which had transformed into a regular bar for the happy hour and at which Martin was mixing cocktails.
‘It’s a bookstore happy hour, dude. All you missed were painfully nerdy discussions about these bookworms’ favourite editions. What can I get you?’
‘How about a watch?’ I heard a familiar voice say, and turned.
There she was.
‘Hey,’ I said.
‘You’re late.’ She tilted her head to one side.
‘I know. I apologize, sincerely. Got caught up with work and lost track of time. Let me make it up to you. What are you drinking?’
‘Oh, we don’t get to decide what we drink here,’ she said, taking a step towards me. ‘Fridays are for Martin to practise his cocktail-making skills. And we are his guinea pigs. The menu tonight has his newest concoction. The Pina Colaba.’
‘What!’ I laughed, shaking my head.
As I leaned in to give her a hug, she stood on tiptoe and said softly into my ear, ‘You must try one. And feel free to leave whatever tip you think appropriate if you like it. We’re saving up for Martin’s bartending school.’
I nodded and called out to Martin, ‘I’ll have two Pina Colabas. One without alcohol, please.’
I scanned the room as we waited for Martin to make our drinks.
There were two girls and a guy standing at the other end of the billing counter, who I assumed were friends of Avani’s, because they were checking me out in a way only a girl’s closest friends can.
Like they knew about me.
Had Avani asked them to size me up and share their opinions about me later? I smiled and waved to them.
One of the girls turned away immediately, like she’d been caught stealing, and the other waved back.
The guy didn’t do either.
He just stood there staring in no particular direction. Looked like Martin had made his drink slightly stronger than everyone else’s.
‘Here we go. One Pina Colaba for Avani and one for her Virgin,’ Martin announced.
She swatted his arm and I pursed my lips to hide a smile.
‘I mean a virgin Pina Colaba for . Enjoy!’ Martin chimed and walked away towards the group at the billing counter.
I took the two glasses and dropped two 2,000-rupee notes into the tip jar. ‘Cheers!’ I said as I clinked my glass with hers and took a sip.
‘You like?’ she asked.
‘I love,’ I replied.
She paused, then looked up at me. ‘Listen,’ she said, ‘I wanted to apologize. For the other day.’
‘What day?’ The music seemed to have been turned up and I found myself practically shouting into her ear.
‘What?’ she said loudly, leaning towards me.
‘What day?’ I repeated.
‘The day I snapped at you.’
‘You snapped at me?’
We were now bellowing at each other.
‘Yeah, when you asked me about my favourite rock band.’
‘Oh … That’s okay. I deserved it. That nerd comment wasn’t very nice either.’
‘I’m sorry!’ she yelled.
‘I’m sorry too!’ I yelled back.
‘IT’S OKAY. THANKS FOR COMING TODAY.’
Whoever had plugged their phone into the boxy speakers of the store really needed to calm it down.
‘WHAT?’
‘THANKS FOR COMING!’
‘ONLY YOU COULD MAKE ME COME—’
Someone chose that very moment to turn down the music. And I froze.
Martin stopped mixing drinks.
The group at the billing counter stopped talking.
All eyes turned to me.
From the corner of my eye I saw Avani staring straight ahead in stunned silence.
Goddammit.
‘I meant … I had no plans of stepping out this weekend, but I couldn’t not come and see you tonight,’ I managed to blurt out. ‘That’s how I was planning to end that sentence,’ I added to the room at large.
Avani seemed to relax. She batted her eyelids at me dramatically, a smile dancing on the corner of her lips, and waited for me to say something more.
‘My my. Look at you kids taking this conversation to third base. Very hot.’ Martin broke the silence. ‘ Come , ,’ he said, stressing on the word for effect. ‘You should meet the rest of the gang.’
Avani picked up her drink and started walking away, but stopped mid-step, turned around to look at me and said, ‘I can’t make you come if you don’t move when I move, you know.’
I laughed and followed her.
She really was something else.
Avani
The glaciers are melting.
‘It’s getting late. I’m going to make a move. Are you staying?’
It was annoying how time had seemed to crawl when I was waiting for to get to the party, but now it seemed to be zooming by.
He smirked. ‘Are you asking me to come home with you, Avani?’
‘What? No, that’s not what I meant.’
‘Pity. I wish you had.’
I swatted his arm and hopped off the bar stool. I picked up my tote from behind the counter and turned to realize he was on his feet too. He looked even taller now that we were both standing, or was I just a little bittle tipsy?
‘Are you staying?’ I asked him again.
‘Nope. I’m walking you home.’
‘My home is a twenty-minute walk from here,’ I said.
‘Perfect.’
‘You don’t have to …’
‘I know.’
‘I-I’m sure you have an early day at work tomorrow.’ I could hear my voice sounding as awkward as I felt.
‘I do.’
‘Then you should go home.’
‘I can’t, sorry.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because I’m walking you home. If you’d like me to, that is.’
I bit my lip and nodded.
He smiled. ‘Well, shall we?’ He waited for me to start walking towards the back door.
It was a little after midnight, so it wasn’t completely quiet and deserted, but it wasn’t buzzing with activity either. A few cars and pedestrians passed by occasionally.
We walked side by side in silence for a while. Every few metres he slowed down to match my pace, and I picked up mine to match his whenever I felt the warmth of his company moving away from me.
After a while, he broke the silence. ‘I feel like one of us should start talking about the stars.’
I chuckled, but looked up at him and asked innocently, ‘Why?’
‘Because that’s what they do in movies in such situations. They talk about the stars.’
‘I don’t see any stars,’ I said as I looked up at the sky. ‘We can talk about the pollution, though.’
‘Or the depleting ozone layer.’
‘Or the melting of the glaciers.’
‘Or the importance of waste segregation to reduce carbon.’
‘Ooh, dirty talk this early in the relationship? I’m a lady, .’ I shook my head, grinning, and looked away.
He let slip a light laugh. It was a half laugh, more like just a hum, but I could feel goosebumps on my arm.
We didn’t speak for the rest of the stretch.
No asking about each other’s lives, what we did when we were not working, where we liked to hang out, what our favourite food was.
None of it.
Every now and then his hand would brush against mine, or I would feel his breath on my hair when we accidently came closer to each other while walking, when he looked at me thinking I wouldn’t notice. Beyond that, it was silence.
It surprised me that not a single second of that silence felt awkward.
I didn’t once feel the need to say something inconsequential to make conversation, not one stupid joke pushed past my lips to fill in any gap.
Strangely, I felt calm, comfortable.
I drew in a long breath to fill my lungs, maybe for the first time in years.
When we reached the gate of my apartment complex, he asked, ‘May I call you?’
I took a step towards the gate, then turned around to face him.
‘Yes, you may.’ I looked into his gorgeous brown eyes, not wanting to move away even an inch more.
I could just station myself there for the night and take a nap while I stood before him.
Like a horse.
Nap like a horse, you mean. Not stare like a horse. Because horses nap standing up …
Oh, just shut up. Let me enjoy this.
‘Maybe I will,’ he said, tilting his chin down slightly.
‘Maybe I’ll pick up when you do,’ I said, grinning. Not trusting myself to stand there any longer while those brown eyes bore into mine, I turned and started walking towards the building.
‘You didn’t give me a number,’ he called out after me.
‘I know.’ I paused, half-turning towards him. He was standing at the gate looking as gorgeous as anyone possibly could in that black button-down shirt.
He shrugged and waved. ‘Goodnight.’
‘Goodnight.’ I entered the elevator with a broad smile on my face.
I know you’re cute, Raina. But if you want my number, you’re going to have to do a lot better than simply ask for it.