22
The heavy, rhythmic bass of the music vibrated straight through the floorboards of the dimly lit apartment, thrumming against the soles of Shreyash's shoes.
The air was thick, a stifling mix of spilled vodka, sharp citrus mixers, cheap cologne, and the collective body heat of thirty people packed into a space meant for ten.
Neon strobe lights sliced through the smoky haze, illuminating the writhing bodies on the makeshift dance floor.
Shreyash sat completely rigid on the very edge of a crushed-velvet sofa, holding a glass of cola. Every five seconds, his dark, watchful eyes scanned the crowded room, a human radar tracking a single, beautiful target.
His wife.
Adhira was currently three tequila shots and two mysterious neon-blue cocktails deep, and her affection, usually kept to a respectable, teasing simmer in public had officially boiled over into total, uninhibited adoration.
She stood near the quartz kitchen island, completely ignoring the conversation happening around her.
Instead, she was staring directly at him across the room with a hazy, incredibly soft, entirely predatory smile.
Her dark eyes were dilated, heavy with a desire she wasn't even attempting to mask.
She set her empty shot glass down on the counter with a sharp clack that Shreyash somehow heard over the deafening music.
Then, she marched across the living room.
Shreyash saw her coming. "Adhira," he started, his voice a low, desperate warning as she closed the distance, her hips swaying with a confident, liquid grace. "It's late. You've had enough. We should probably get..."
He didn't get to finish the sentence.
Adhira didn't sit neatly on the cushion next to him.
She didn't perch on the armrest. Instead, right in the middle of the party, in front of twenty cheering people, including her glaring older brother Ayan, who was standing barely ten feet away nursing a beer, Adhira threw her leg right over Shreyash's thighs and boldly straddled his lap.
The heavy, expensive silk of her black dress pooled over his dark jeans, riding dangerously high up her thighs. She settled her weight directly onto him, her knees firmly bracketing his hips, pinning him to the velvet sofa.
Shreyash completely stopped breathing. His heart slammed against his ribs like a trapped bird.
His cola slipped from his numb fingers, miraculously landing upright on the low coffee table with a soft thud. His arms flew out sideways, hovering in the air, completely terrified to touch her. His entire body went as rigid as a carved stone pillar.
"Adhira!" he hissed, his face instantly flushing a violent, explosive scarlet that crept all the way past his collar. "What are you doing? Get down! Please, people are looking. Ayan is right there!"
"You are just... so handsome," she sighed dreamily, completely ignoring his frantic panic.
She leaned in, reaching out to cup his blazing hot cheeks.
Her thumbs stroked his cheekbones, squishing his face together slightly so his lips puckered.
"How did I get so incredibly lucky? You're so cute I just want to eat you, Shreyash. "
"Adhira, please," he whimpered softly, trying to lean backward, but his shoulder blades were already pressed flat against the back of the sofa. There was nowhere to go.
"Ooooh, look at the lovebirds!" a girl from across the room cheered, raising her red plastic cup. "Go get your man, Adhira!"
"And your dimples!" Adhira announced loudly, her voice rising above the music, poking the side of his burning cheek. "My heart literally races when you look at me, Senior. You make me crazy. I love you so much it hurts."
A chorus of awwws and loud, rowdy whistles erupted from the surrounding crowd.
Shreyash was dying. He was actively perishing from mortification.
And yet, beneath the terrifying embarrassment, beneath the sheer panic of public indecency, there was a profound, ridiculous flutter of pure joy exploded in his chest. She was so beautiful, so incredibly out of his league, and she was sitting on his lap in a crowded room, boldly declaring her obsession with him.
He couldn't help the tiny, shy, incredibly pleased smile that fought its way through his panic, making those very dimples she loved pop into existence.
Across the room, Ayan let out a loud, dramatic groan that echoed over the music. He slammed his beer down and buried his face in his hands.
"Okay, nope, absolutely not," Ayan called out, looking utterly nauseated as he pointed a finger at them. "Shreyash, I am begging you. Please take my sister and get out of here right now. My eyes are literally bleeding. This is a serious violation of my human rights."
Adhira leaned closer to Shreyash, her hands poking his abdomen. "God, you are so hard, Senior. It makes me wonder if you're this hard everywhere else..."
The crowd erupted into chaotic, raucous cheering.
Shreyash let out a strangled, high-pitched noise.
Operating purely on a lethal cocktail of adrenaline, supreme mortification, and a desperate need to escape the cheering crowd, Shreyash finally moved.
He stood up in one fluid, powerful motion, wrapping his strong arms securely beneath her bare thighs and hoisting her up flush against his broad chest.
"We are leaving," Shreyash choked out to the room, carrying her straight toward the front door. He didn't make eye contact with a single person. His face was burning like a lighthouse beacon.
"Use protection! I don't want any nieces yet." Ayan hollered after them, followed by another roar of laughter from the party.
Shreyash practically kicked the front door open, fleeing into the night.