Chapter 10 Komal #4
“You wanted to win my community out from under me, vampire? This is how you do it,” I hiss, dragging him onto the dance floor as the opening of “Jashn-E-Bahaara” comes over the speakers.
Please, not this song. Anything but this song.
“Jashn-E-Bahaara” is one of my favourite Bollywood songs.
It’s about yearning, how when you’re in love, the world appears more beautiful – birds sing, butterflies flutter around, flowers bloom – as they did at the hospital when we absconded with Papa.
It’s about those tender, doubtful moments when you don’t know if the other person feels the same way as you.
It’s about the strange, tingly feeling of fingers drawing circles on your back when you’re afraid.
I want to dance it with my future husband (who will definitely be able to dance). I don’t want to dance it with Augustin-bloody-Durant.
But we’re here, and the whole community is clapping and cheering, so I am going to make damn sure they know who the best mayoral candidate is.
I roll my shoulders and dance the familiar steps. I can do these moves in my sleep. Augustin, meanwhile, sways awkwardly while glaring at me in horror.
“Relax, Durant.” I grab his hands and try to shake some life into them. “This song is all about angst. Vampires should excel at that.”
He attempts a hip swirl that looks like he’s been stabbed in the kidney. I execute a perfect leap. He tries to copy but lands with all the grace and aplomb of a toppling bookshelf.
But the aunties are going wild for him. Every time he flails, they cheer louder. When he tries to dip me and gets our feet tangled together – laying me out on the grass and falling on top of me – they erupt into hysterics.
“Are you doing this on purpose?” I growl as he helps me to my feet. I pick grass clippings out of my hair.
“Oh yes, I’m secretly Fred Astaire’s long-lost cousin, attempting to throw you off guard with my terribleness—”
Augustin breaks off whatever he was going to say with a choking sound. I surge forward, thinking that maybe he has some pakora lodged in his throat. But of course, he hasn’t eaten anything.
It’s then I realise that my favourite red skirt has ridden up my thighs.
Right up.
Thankfully, none of our spectators can see what Augustin sees from his angle, which is… everything. His eyes bug out of his head as he gets a full frontal of my red lacy knickers.
He blinks. And blinks and blinks. And then his nose wrinkles and his whole face collapses into a wobbly frown.
Great. Good to know that I disgust him. I love that for me.
I yank my skirt down and glare at him. “I thought you were Victorian. Shouldn’t you be averting your eyes or fetching the smelling salts at the sight of a lady’s petticoats?”
“Ladies in my era tended not to perform complex dances in skirts that barely reach their knees.” He brushes grass from his shirt, not meeting my gaze. “The issue never came up.”
“That explains why you look like you’ve just had a heart attack.”
He nods, his features a picture of misery. He presses his hand to his stomach and still refuses to look at me. “Councillor Ahuja, I assure you that my gaze will henceforth be directed only at the ceiling, the floor, or your rather judgemental eyebrows.”
“My eyebrows are not judgemental—”
Augustin attempts another spin and smacks himself in the nose. The aunties roar with laughter.
“Handsome and enthusiastic!” Priya shouts.
“He’s trying so hard, na? So cute!”
I perform a flawless spin, but the crowd barely notices. They’re too busy cooing as Augustin attempts to clap overhead like he’s battling an invisible swarm of insects.
The music ends in a triumphant flourish. I strike my final pose, draped over Augustin’s arm, while he wobbles in place, looking panicked and slightly confused and still trying to avoid looking at me.
The entire party erupts in applause.
My family surge forward to surround… Augustin. Papa claps Augustin’s shoulder while the aunties hold up their scorecards.
“Amazing!” Mamma says. “Augustin wins!”
“What?! Are you serious?”
“Beta, don’t be jealous,” Papa scolds with a laugh. “He danced with so much heart.”
“He danced like a malfunctioning scarecrow!”
Augustin stands bone-still, blinking and blinking like he can’t quite believe it. Such a fake. And they’re all falling for him. The aunties swoop in, leaning in for selfies. Sunita places a glittery scarf around his neck. I can’t bear to watch, so I turn away.
He stalks past me, long arms flailing as he ducks to avoid more aunties.
“Where do you think you’re going?” I bellow.
“I’m leaving.”
“Why? Don’t you want to stay and humiliate me some more? Steal more votes from my community?”
He presses his hand into his stomach, his eyes meeting mine briefly, the irises blown out, dark as midnight. “I… don’t feel so good.”
“Coward!” I yell at his retreating figure. “I thought vampires didn’t get sick.”
He slips out the gate without answering, disappearing into the night.
I flop down on an outdoor sofa, no longer in a partying mood. He got exactly what he wanted. Augustin-bloody-Durant won over my family. My community.
So why did he run away?