Chapter 8
DAKSH
Ten minutes later, almost to the dot as the needle on his watch ticked over, she opened the door and appeared. Her hair was brushed loose, her face completely make-up free and she was wearing a kurta and leggings. Again. What was with the dress code?
Daksh glanced down at his shorts and t-shirt ensemble, feeling like he was falling weirdly short.
But he didn’t have a sherwani packed away in his haversack.
To be fair, he didn’t have a sherwani anywhere.
Dear God, his mother was going to make him wear one for Ashish and the Mouse’s wedding, he thought, groaning internally.
“You don’t need to look constipated,” a prim voice said from beside him.
Daksh glanced down to where the voice emanated from. She had her arms wrapped around her waist like an emotional support girdle and looked unnaturally tense and anxious for what was a simple night out.
“Shall we hit one of the nightclubs?” he asked, stretching his arms over his head and trying to work through his kinked muscles.
“I don’t go to nightclubs.”
Daksh raised his eyes to the heavens. Of course, she didn’t.
“Where would you like to go?”
He watched her gnaw on her lip like she was deciding the fate of the universe. And then after she was done figuring out if the dragons would save the day or the robots with the lightsabers would, she announced, “Let’s go to the shack on the hotel’s private beach.”
Right. Of course. She would go with the boring choice. Let the universe burn.
“Lead the way,” he muttered, resigned to drowning his boredom in alcohol.
They walked through the hotel’s opulent lobby in silence, Vedika’s shoulders hunched, her head tucked in like a turtle retreating into its shell.
She was a strange, little thing. He followed her through the longish corridor that led out to the swimming pools and then to the few steps that took them to the beach.
The shack was lit up, music streaming out of it, and a few tables occupied with mostly foreigners. Daksh relaxed as he took in the sight. This was better than being stuck in a quiet restaurant where he’d have to actually talk to the woman walking silently beside him.
They found a table in the open air outside the shack’s thatched roof and settled down. A server ambled over to take their order.
“What would you like to drink?” Daksh asked, extending the menu to her.
“I don’t drink.”
The menu froze mid-air as he stared at her. “How about a Coke or something?”
“Empty calories,” she said dismissively. “I’ll just have a glass of water, please.”
Right.
“I’ll have a beer,” Daksh told the waiter. Then he looked at the woman sitting across from him. A little scared of her answer, he asked, “Do you eat?”
She rolled her eyes at him like he was being ridiculous. “Of course I do.” She smiled sweetly up at the server. “Could you get me a simple salad? And drizzle the dressing, please.”
Leaves. She ate leaves.
“And what would you like Sir?” The server glanced over at Daksh, amusement dancing in his eyes.
Daksh cleared his throat, even as his stomach growled at the mention of food. He wasn’t sure but he thought Vedika rolled her eyes again as she stared out towards the ocean waves crashing on to the beach a little distance away.
“A portion of butter garlic calamari, recheado prawns, and some choris pao, please.”
She stared at him, forgetting to pretend interest in the ocean. “You’re going to eat all that?”
“For starters,” he retorted, leaning back in his chair. Just because she wanted to nibble on weeds, didn’t mean everyone had to.
“Do you realise you’re asking for a heart attack?”
Irritation sparked at the judgement in her voice. “Do you realise that you’re on the brink of malnutrition?”
“Eating healthy is the literal definition of good nutrition,” she snapped, her cheeks going a fiery red.
The server returned with their order, setting the dishes on the table. He popped the cap of Daksh’s beer bottle and placed it in front of him. Daksh took a swig, allowing the bitter, chilled liquid to halt any chance of further conversation. Across from him, Vedika took a delicate sip of her water.
Awkward silence descended over them, broken only by the soft crash of the waves against the sand.
He didn’t mind one bit. He preferred the quiet to the sound of her judgy, annoying voice.
Daksh settled into his chair and looked out into the night, tuning her out and allowing the wash of nature to soothe his soul like it always did.
“So, you’re a photographer?”
Daksh squeezed his eyes shut, his head falling back on the chair. Dammit. She was ruining nature for him.
“Daksh?” she prodded when he didn’t immediately reply.
“Yeah,” he muttered.
“What kind of photography?”
Daksh frowned, rolling his head to the side and opening one eye to look at her. “Ashish didn’t tell you?”
“If he did, I’ve forgotten,” she said primly.
How flattering, Daksh thought irritably. He shut his eye again and tried to tune her out. He swallowed another mouthful of beer.
“Do you not know how conversation works?” she asked, her voice like razor blades over his skin. “If someone asks you a question, you’re meant to answer.”
A shy, sweet girl, his brother had said when he’d described the girl he was going to marry. This witch was certainly not it.
“Fashion?” she persisted. “Do you photograph models and clothes and stuff for magazines?”
She wasn’t going to shut up, was she?
“Wildlife,” he replied, curtly.
“Oh.”
A couple at the table behind them got up and started to dance to the music streaming through the air. Daksh watched them laugh and twirl, the flush of their love practically forming a heart in the air around them.
“So, animals,” she murmured.
He glanced over at her. “That’s usually what wildlife means.”
She flushed an unattractive shade of red, her nose crinkling like she’d smelled something bad.
“How did Ashish and you meet?” he asked, feeling pressured to say something to stop the eruption he sensed coming his way.
“We met at a business networking conference,” she muttered, her eyes still sparking dangerously.
“Sounds exciting,” he said blandly, taking another large gulp of beer. He should have gone with something stronger. This was going to be a long night. Very, very long.
“Why animals?” She forked up some leaves as she spoke.
“Why Ashish?” he countered, the devil on his shoulder riding him hard.
For a moment, he thought she’d stab him with her fork.
He speared a prawn in self-defense and watched her debate whether to answer him.
Her gaze went to the couple who now had their arms around each other and were swaying to music only they could hear.
Something churned in those large, expressive eyes of hers, something sad, something dangerous.
“He helped me feel safe again,” she said, finally.
Daksh raised his bottle to his lips, his gaze meeting hers. There were secrets swimming in the depths of her gaze, secrets he couldn’t even begin to guess at.
“Why animals?” she asked again.
He saw the challenge in her gaze as she watched him. He didn’t want to meet it. He didn’t want her seeing past the shields he’d erected a lifetime ago to protect himself.
He helped me feel safe.
The words told him more than she wished him to know, more than he wished to know about her. She just hadn’t realised that yet. And yet, her honesty demanded his own.
“Why animals?” he repeated the question, letting it settle in his gut. He looked away from her to the waves, the harmony in their sound washing through him. “They helped me feel again.”