Chapter 17
“Manav… Manav… Manav…” The room erupted in cheers and laughter as everyone joined in, egging him on while he took on the dare like a champ.
A hundred push-ups? Easy.
But shirtless—with little Nick sitting on his back, giggling like he was on the world’s best amusement ride?
Every push-up felt like a personal attack on my sanity.
His muscles flexed with every movement, his shoulders and back rippling in ways that had my brain firing on all cylinders.
The sweat glistened on his skin. And then he flashed Nick that ridiculously charming smile, the kind that could make even the most cynical person believe in fairytales.
I might need a very cold shower after seeing this.
Meeta leaned in, clearly enjoying my obvious distraction. “You okay there, sweetie?”
“I’m fine,” I muttered, forcing my gaze away from the Greek god in motion just a few feet away.
I am not fine.
There’s no way I’m not dreaming about this tonight.
Myra leaned in closer, “He’s so, so hot… Don’t you ever get those dreams about him? You know… in bed?”
I nearly choked on my wine. “What?”
How is this woman even allowed to roam freely in society?
“Sweaty and sexy Manav, doing push-ups, holding you… and kissing…” she continued.
And then, without realizing just how crazed I sounded, I half-shouted, “I DON’T…” I do. But before I could internalize my mistake, the room went silent.
Every single head turned in my direction. Nick froze mid-giggle. Kartik raised an eyebrow, Meeta looked like she was on the verge of bursting into laughter, and worst of all, Manav stopped mid-push-up and looked directly at me.
“Sorry… Myra was talking… nonsense,” I stammered, trying—and failing miserably—to play it cool.
Kartik and Meeta, the certified chaos team, exchanged glances before jumping in, “Talk, Myra… we sure want to hear this!”
“No!” The word burst out of me far louder than I intended, like an emergency alarm gone rogue.
And my face? Oh, my dear face… It was now a perfect match for the red wine swirling in Meeta’s glass.
Myra, of course, was having the time of her life, practically doubling over with laughter.
“We want to hear about this secret talk,” Meeta pressed, stretching out like a queen lounging on her throne, the wine bottle casually dangling in her hand.
“Absolutely NOT!” I blurted, my voice cracking slightly under the pressure. My palms were practically rivers of sweat. This was no longer a friendly hangout—it was a certified disaster in progress.
Dear God, if there’s ever been a moment for divine intervention, it’s now.
“If you don’t tell us, then you’ll have to do a dare of our choice,” Meeta declared with the enthusiasm of a Wonder Woman.
“What…? Why…?” I stammered, looking around for an escape route. Maybe if I dove under the table and crawled to the garden, no one would notice.
But the universe wasn’t on my side today.
“Kiara… Kiara… Kiara…” The crowd chanted my name like I was a contestant on some deranged reality show.
Manav, meanwhile, stood at the counter, completely unfazed, mixing drinks like some sort of cocktail wizard. Kartik had joined him, clearly enjoying the chaos.
“Choose, Kiara: Truth or Dare?” Meeta stood beside me, topping off my glass with more wine as if I hadn’t already reached my limit.
I swallowed hard, my nerves fraying like an old sweater. “Dare?” I blurted out, desperately hoping it would be less humiliating than admitting the very inappropriate thoughts I’d been having about Manav and, well… things that should never see the light of day.
Meeta’s smile turned devilish as she grabbed another bottle of wine. “You have to kiss the birthday boy.”
The room froze. Even the air held its breath. Not a whisper. Not a giggle. Just a thick, charged silence was hanging between us like static before a storm.
And then, as if someone had dropped a match into a barrel of fireworks, the room exploded with laughter, cheers, and whistles. My heart stopped. Actually, no—it didn’t stop. It sprinted straight out of my chest, did a lap around the room, and collapsed somewhere near Nick’s cartoon headphones.
“You cannot be serious,” I managed to stammer, my eyes darting between Meeta, Myra, and—oh God—Manav, who was staring at Meeta as she’d just suggested a group skydiving session without parachutes.
“Oh, I’m super serious, baby.” Meeta replied with a grin, “The birthday boy deserves a present, doesn’t he?”
Manav coughed again and set his glass down with a little too much force. “Meeta… You need to stop drinking now.”
“Nope! Thank you very much.” Meeta waved him off. She jabbed a finger between the two of us. “Now, you two—start kissing before I come up with an even better dare!”
Manav’s frown deepened, and his gaze shifted to me.
“Kiara…” Meeta sang my name like a playground bully: “Clock’s ticking, girl.”
Oh. My. God.
I took a deep breath, mentally yelling at every part of my body to move. You’ve got this, Kiara. Just pretend you’re writing a scene for the book.
Myra was losing it, her laughter muffled behind her hands as tears formed in her eyes. Kartik, bless his unhelpful soul, gave me a double thumbs-up from the corner.
Manav? Oh, Manav. His impossibly blue eyes stayed locked on mine, unreadable yet hypnotic.
They held a storm of emotions, carefully concealed beneath that composed exterior.
Without blinking, he stared at me like I’d suddenly turned into a live grenade, and he couldn’t decide whether to run or catch me.
With all the grace of a baby giraffe—and an equal amount of courage—I took a hesitant step forward, shrinking the already tiny space between us. My heart raced so wildly that it felt like it might escape my chest and take residence in another universe.
I leaned in, my breath shallow and uncertain, my face mere inches from his. His gaze never wavered, a silent pull I couldn’t resist. “Happy birthday,” I whispered.
Before he could respond—or maybe before I lost the nerve—I leaned in, rising onto my toes, with the lightest, most innocent peck on his lips.
His lips, soft and warm, didn’t move against mine, but his sharp inhale was enough to tell me that I wasn’t the only one caught off guard.
As I pulled back, I dared to glance up, searching his face for any reaction.
What did I just do?
The room erupted into a cacophony of whistles, cheers, and exaggerated claps, but all I could feel was the heat rushing up my face. Every sound around me blurred into white noise as my senses zeroed in on one thing: Manav.
He barely reacted to the chaos around us.
Towering over me, he stood calm and composed, a sharp contrast to the storm brewing inside me.
His arm instinctively circled my waist, the touch so feather-light it sent a shiver down my spine.
I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe—every nerve in my body was attuned to him, to the way his fingers rested against the small of my back, almost hesitant yet unmistakably firm.
And yet, in the stillness of that moment, I could hear it—his heartbeat, rapid and unsteady, a rhythm betraying the control he was so fiercely holding onto. His eyes met mine, holding me in place, grounding me in a way I couldn’t explain.
I didn’t want to move.
“How does that even count as a kiss?” Meeta groaned dramatically, throwing her hands in the air before stuffing more chips into her mouth.
“You’ve become so boring, birthday boy!” Meeta called out. “Remember when we used to catch you in the college, being all romantic with… what was her name?”
Manav rolled his eyes, pouring himself a drink. “It was a dare… Ms. High Heels.”
Meeta made a funny face, mocking him, and threw a piece of lemon in his direction.
The game carried on for a few more rounds of increasingly ridiculous dares and truths.
Kartik and Meeta found every excuse to kiss.
Lina, the designated adult of the group, dramatically covered Nick’s eyes at every instance of PDA, while Myra shrieked in mock horror.
I stayed quiet, letting the warmth of the moment soak in. I felt happy—genuinely happy. There was something magical about the energy in the room. It was chaotic and silly, but it radiated love in every possible form.
Yet, beneath the laughter and joy, there was an odd ache in my chest.
Something’s wrong with me tonight.
____________
Oh, I’m in trouble.
Big, big trouble.
I want to kiss Manav Oberoi. And I want to kiss him so badly that every time his knuckles accidentally brush against my skin during dinner, it sends goosebumps the size of potatoes all over me.
And that’s not even the worst part. The worst part is, he noticed. And it didn’t end there—he smiled at my potato-sized goosebumps.
Now, after the party, my once-beloved The Cape House looks like a jungle.
Some people are so drunk they’re still making out on the front couch for the past hour—I’m pretty sure it's Kartik and Meeta.
Lina and Nick left and managed to return to their houses in one piece, and most of the other guests had cleared out, too.
Myra is somewhere, glued to her phone, probably with boyfriend number 751.
I’ve somehow found a quiet corner in the kitchen where I can make a strong coffee without the urge to bang my head against a glass window. Sleeping with Myra is out of the question—especially since she’s likely gearing up for a night of phone sex.
And sharing the bed with Mr. Hot Oberoi? That’s impossible tonight.
Why?
Because I don’t trust myself around him.
He’s in a completely different zone tonight.
He’s smiling, cracking jokes, and those biceps of his have been torturing me for the past few hours—or maybe days.
His disheveled hair is practically begging me to run my fingers through it, and those bare feet…
honestly, they could put me in a coma if I stared too long.
How is this man effortlessly doing all of this to me?