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‘Not really,’ Dhruv said, and after a little pause he continued very formally with a shuttered look on his face that she remembered from college. ‘I don’t believe in explanations, Riya—they always end up sounding like excuses. But I do apologise. You deserved a lot better from me, and I let you down.’
The temptation to say more was almost irresistible, but his reasons for dumping her were too closely linked to the crisis his family had been going through at that time. The old habits of reticence and concealment died hard—even after so much time. It seemed preferable that she think him fickle and irresponsible rather than know the real reason.
‘I’d better join the others—Gaurav looked like he needed help with the food.’ While Riya stared at him in disbelief, he turned around and went out of the room, shutting the door gently but firmly behind him.
‘So much for waiting half a lifetime to figure out what the hell happened,’ Riya said out loud to the closed door.
The sense of frustration was so strong she felt like screaming. Twelve years since they’d parted, and explanations still didn’t seem to be among Dhruv Malhotra’s strong points. In a way, she felt worse than she would have if he hadn’t apologised—his getting angry or avoiding the topic would have made her feel that it really bothered him deep down, but the empty token of an apology relegated the whole college episode to an unfortunate but not very important incident in his distant past.
Suddenly furious, she picked up a little ceramic troll from her bedside table and hurled it across the room. It hit the wall and smashed into pieces with a most satisfying crash.
Her door opened a little, and Gaurav poked his head inside cautiously. ‘All OK?’ he asked.
Riya looked up and gave him a tight little smile. ‘Yes. Your cousin is the...the most infuriating man I’ve met in my life—not that I care!’ She didn’t want to let Gaurav know quite how upset she was. He seemed to be fairly close to Dhruv, and given his general ineptitude at keeping his mouth shut the chances of him letting something slip were high.
Gaurav’s pleasant face was creased with worry. ‘He’s leaving tomorrow, but he’ll be there at the wedding. You sure it’s OK?’
‘I’ll avoid him,’ Riya said. And when Gaurav’s frown didn’t go away she said, ‘Relax. I won’t smash his face in during the ceremony. Or will it be simpler if I don’t come?’
Gaurav’s expression changed and he came in swiftly, sitting down next to her and saying earnestly, ‘I wouldn’t be getting married if you hadn’t helped sort out things with Madhulika’s parents. If anyone needs to skip the wedding, it’ll be Dhruv.’
Sudden tears came to Riya’s eyes, and she fumbled for Gaurav’s hand and squeezed it hard. He’d been her best friend for many years now, and he’d been miserable when Madhulika’s parents had refused to let their daughter marry him. They’d picked out a Bengali bridegroom for her, and had had no time for the brash, burly Punjabi man their daughter had chosen. Riya had played the go-between for some months, gradually bringing them round to the idea, and Gaurav had been absurdly grateful ever since.
‘Don’t be silly,’ she said. ‘He’s family—you can’t tell him not to come. I promise I’ll behave.’
‘Come on out and join us, then,’ Gaurav said, gently tugging her to her feet. ‘I’m setting up the karaoke thing on the TV. Don’t bother about Dhruv. Every unmarried girl in the room is making a beeline for him, and he’ll be too busy fighting them off to bother you.’
Riya frowned as she followed Gaurav out. He was right—Dhruv was knee-deep in women, and in spite of herself she couldn’t suppress a little flare of annoyance.
* * *
It was almost three in the morning when the last people left. Chutki had left for her friend’s place at eleven, and Gaurav was dozing on the sofa. Riya started clearing up—there were beer cans and empty disposable plates and glasses scattered all over the room. Dhruv began to help, stacking boxes of half-eaten pizza and carrying them into the kitchen. She silently handed him a few garbage disposal bags, and picked up a broom and mop to clean the floor.
‘Won’t the maid do that tomorrow?’
‘The place will be overrun by cockroaches by then,’ Riya said. ‘Armies of them come crawling in under the door if there’s the slightest bit of food lying around.’
Gaurav looked at them sleepily. ‘A cockroach can live for a week without its head,’ he informed them, and fell asleep quite suddenly, his mouth wide open.
Both Dhruv and Riya cracked up, the tension of the evening dissolving in gales of laughter.
‘Let me get him to his room,’ Dhruv said finally, and putting his arm around Gaurav, he half dragged him to bed.
Gaurav’s room was a mess as well, but he decided not to do anything about it other than clear a couple of ashtrays off the bed before he headed back to the living room.
He was still undecided about Riya. One part of him felt that he should leave things as they were. The other would sell his soul to get within touching distance of her. His lips twisted as he acknowledged that, at present, the second was definitely winning.
After Riya had rejoined the party he’d spent the evening watching her unobtrusively as she circulated around the room, laughing and joking with people she obviously knew well. Little things had caught his attention and held it. The way she threw her head back when she laughed, exposing the long, perfectly shaped column of her throat. The way the silky material of her top clung to her body as she moved. The curve of her lush red lips betraying her amusement as she mock-frowned at something Gaurav said to her. He had never been so aware of a woman in his life. And now that they were finally alone in the room together it took every last ounce of his self-control to stop himself from dragging her into his arms and crushing her lovely mouth under his.
Oblivious to the direction Dhruv’s thoughts were taking, Riya finished clearing the room and went to draw the curtains, groaning as she saw more mess on the balcony.
Dhruv came up behind her. ‘I’ll take care of that,’ he said gently. ‘Go to bed.’
‘Why’re you being so nice?’ she demanded. Her voice came out sounding a little more petulant than she’d intended, and Dhruv’s lips curved into his trademark sexy smile that started slowly at his mouth and went up all the way to his eyes. Riya’s insides promptly turned to mush, in spite of her head telling her firmly to get a grip.
‘We could forget college and try to be friends again,’ he said, the words coming out before he had a chance to think. ‘We’ll be at the wedding for three days. We could use that time to catch up, get to know each other better?’
Riya closed her eyes briefly. It was such a tempting thought—getting to know Dhruv all over again. It would be stupid to deny that she was still strongly attracted to him—only she didn’t know if he felt the same way, or if he was just trying to make amends for having hurt her earlier.
He was still looking at her expectantly. She forced a smile and said, as formally as she could, ‘I guess we could try. I’m sorry if I’ve been less than gracious, Dhruv, but it’s been a shock seeing you again. I thought I’d put all that nonsense from college behind me. Evidently it’s still bothering me somewhere at some level, or I wouldn’t have got so worked up when I saw you again.’
‘I haven’t managed to put it behind me, either,’ Dhruv said softly. It seemed vital that he convince her to trust him—just a little. He took her hand and squeezed it gently. ‘I don’t think I expressed myself very well when we spoke earlier, but I truly am sorry I treated you the way I did. If you can forgive me for being such an idiot, let’s spend some time together when we’re in Kolkata. I swear I’ve improved with age.’
Riya looked into the familiar golden eyes for a second, and looked away hastily.
‘OK,’ she said, drawing her hand out of his warm clasp and brushing it clumsily across her forehead. ‘I...I think I’ll get to bed now. I’ll see you tomorrow.’
The last lot of empty beer cans cleared away, Dhruv gave the kitchen a cursory glance before snapping off the light. Riya’s reaction bothered him more than he cared to admit. Till the day they’d split up he had been used to Riya’s adoration—she had concealed it under a layer of sassiness, but it had always been there. He hadn’t expected it to remain, of course—not after so many years, and definitely not after the way they’d parted—but it was still a shock, looking into Riya’s eyes and seeing wariness and distrust in their lovely depths. She was perfectly polite to him—only the genuine warmth that showed through when she spoke to Gaurav and even to Chutki was missing.
Regret and frustrated desire churned through him. Without realising it he’d had Riya captured in a time-warp in his mind, forever seventeen, forever willing and forever his. Rationally he knew that she’d have changed, but the reality of not having her come running when he beckoned was difficult to deal with.
He was about to go into the room Chutki had been using the night before when Riya’s door opened again. She came out, wearing a white oversized T-shirt and little cotton shorts that left most of her long brown legs bare.
‘I need a bottle of water,’ she muttered, brushing past him to go into the kitchen and opening the fridge. Her throat was parched, and she hadn’t been able to get to sleep, otherwise the last thing she’d have wanted was to run into Dhruv again. ‘Great—someone drank all the cold water.’
She straightened up, and she looked so adorable with her wavy hair tousled around her sleepy face that Dhruv couldn’t help pulling her close, all his good resolutions lost. She melted in his arms, closing her eyes as Dhruv trailed a finger down her cheek. His body tightened as he saw her reaction to him, and he lowered his lips slowly onto hers.
Dhruv’s lips felt reassuringly familiar and wildly exciting at the same time, and Riya heard herself moan softly as she strained her body closer to his. The small part of her brain that was still functioning kept telling her that she was being stupid, only her body found it impossible to stop.
‘You’re so beautiful,’ Dhruv said thickly, as his lips travelled down her neck and lower.
His hands were slipping under the loose T-shirt when Riya’s brain finally kicked in.
‘No,’ she said. ‘No, Dhruv...please, I need time to think.’ And, grabbing the nearest bottle of not cold drinking water, she turned away and almost ran back to her room.
Riya was shaking as she sank down onto her bed. Another minute and they’d have been making love on the kitchen floor, oblivious of Gaurav sleeping in the next room. Or maybe that was just her. Going by past experience, Dhruv had probably had all his wits around him, however carried away he’d seemed. He’d probably thought it out fully—how they’d move to her room, make love the whole night through, and the next day he could pretend that nothing had happened. And, being the colossal fool that she was, she’d almost let it happen.
Slow tears began sliding down her cheeks. Of all things, she hated feeling vulnerable the most, and with Dhruv around all her carefully built armour was melting away.
Dhruv slowly turned off the lights in his room and got into bed. Kissing Riya had been a mistake—especially when she’d just started warming up to him. But it had been impossible to resist. The attraction between them had flared up as hot and sweet as it had so many years ago.
Dhruv had had several girlfriends since, and had thought he was fairly serious about at least two of them. It had been different with Riya, though. She was the first girl he’d ever kissed, one rain-soaked day at her home when her parents were away. Twelve years later he still remembered the feel of her eager, inexperienced lips under his, and her young body straining to be closer to him. It had taken every last ounce of sanity for him to leave her with just a kiss. She’d pouted and tried to pull him back, but he’d left anyway, muttering a hasty excuse. He hadn’t trusted himself near her again, telling himself that he didn’t need the added complication of a girlfriend in his already messy life.
He wasn’t sure he wanted the complication in his life even now. He’d been thinking of settling down—his parents were pressing him to marry, and while he was cynical about their motives the idea made sense. None of his earlier girlfriends were the kind he’d want to marry—in the last twelve years he’d never met a woman he could imagine spending the rest of his life with. Which was one of the reasons why he’d even contemplated an arranged marriage. It had worked for several of his friends who lived overseas and didn’t end up meeting too many Indian girls. Falling in love was a combination of hormones and stupidity in his view—his parents had supposedly married for love, and they had the worst relationship he’d ever seen.
After meeting Riya again, however, the thought of an arranged marriage seemed less appealing. The closest he’d come to falling in love had been with her. In the intervening years he’d tried to dismiss the episode as a piece of hormone-driven madness, but he knew it wasn’t quite so simple. There was something between them that was very real, and while he didn’t believe in love he had felt the absence of that spark in all his subsequent relationships.
* * *
The next day was less awkward than either Riya or Dhruv had anticipated. Gaurav hogged the limelight by waking up at ten when he had to catch a one-thirty flight, and announcing calmly over breakfast that he ‘still needed to get his stuff together.’ He panicked when Riya pointed out that as he’d need to be at the airport an hour before the flight, and it took forty-five minutes to get there, he had exactly an hour and a half within which to bathe, shave and pack for the wedding as well as the honeymoon.
In the ensuing flurry of activity to get Gaurav ready in time, Riya found herself and Dhruv slipping into a semblance of the easy camaraderie that had existed between them in the early days of their friendship.
‘Why would you leave packing to the last minute?’ Chutki moaned as she sat on a suitcase in an attempt to make it close.
‘I thought I’d just need to take a couple of shirts and jeans and the wedding sherwani,’ Gaurav said in a harassed voice.
‘And a few suits, and gifts for a dozen people, and clothes for the honeymoon,’ said Dhruv, pulling a heap of boxes out of the cupboard where Gaurav had stacked and then conveniently forgotten about all the things he’d bought for the wedding. ‘Not to mention the jewellery for Madhu. A psychoanalyst might think you wanted to miss the flight because of a deep-rooted subconscious phobia over marriage.’ He took the suitcase from Chutki and, forcing the lid closed, snapped the clasps shut. ‘Don’t even try opening this till you reach Kolkata,’ he warned, his deep voice betraying some of his affection for his cousin.
‘No fear,’ said Gaurav. ‘It’s full of girlie junk my mum bought for Madhu when she came to Mumbai. On my credit card, if I may add. By the way—I don’t have a deep whatever you said marriage phobia.’
‘I didn’t say you did,’ Dhruv retorted. ‘I said a psychoanalyst might think that. A normal person would think you’re an irresponsible idiot.’
Riya frowned at Dhruv, but then gasped as one of the boxes Gaurav was cramming into a second suitcase fell open to reveal a heavy gold necklace.
‘You’re mad, G-boy,’ she said. ‘I can’t believe you left all this jewellery just lying around. What if we got burgled?’
‘Ah, we wouldn’t,’ Gaurav said. ‘I’m way too lucky for that. But I probably should have started packing earlier.’ He slammed the last suitcase lid down and stood up, grinning at them proudly. ‘All done.’
‘He isn’t going to make the flight,’ Dhruv said flatly. ‘Have you called for a cab, Gaurav?’
‘Riya’s going to drive us,’ he said with an anxious glance towards her. ‘Aren’t you, Riya?’
She pretended to frown. ‘Am I? I don’t seem to recall you asking me.’
‘Ah, Riya, sweetheart, please...’ Gaurav went down on his knees. ‘I’ll be eternally grateful. Your slave for life. Please, please get me to airport—or I’ll miss my wedding and my life will be ruined.’
‘You’re such a clown,’ she said and, grabbing his hand, dragged him to his feet. ‘Your wedding isn’t for days. I’ll drive you to the airport, though. One doesn’t get promised eternal servitude every day.’
Gaurav threw his arms around her, hugging her exuberantly. She came out of his arms laughing, but stopped abruptly when she caught Dhruv’s eye. There was a faintly condemning look on his face and she felt absurdly guilty.
Gaurav was probably her most favourite person outside her family. They had hit it off the day they met, and in spite of her initial awkwardness at sharing a flat with a man they had been best buddies ever since—to the extent that a lot of people thought they were related. Something about Dhruv’s expression made her feel that he disapproved of her being so close to Gaurav, though—or at least that he disapproved of her hugging him.
The thought that he could be jealous crossed her mind, only to be dismissed immediately. She was reading too much into everything he said or did, she told herself firmly. It was about time she pulled herself together and started acting like a mature adult rather than a sixteen-year-old in the throes of her first crush.
‘Maybe we should get the luggage loaded,’ Dhruv said abruptly, cutting into her thoughts. ‘Riya, come downstairs with me and show me where your car is parked.’
She nodded silently, wondering why she didn’t object to him ordering her about. Dhruv had grabbed two of the heaviest suitcases, and his muscles rippled impressively under his tight-fitting T-shirt. Riya followed him to the door, dragging Chutki’s wheeled bag behind her and trying not to ogle his perfectly shaped body too obviously.
‘I’ll bring the car up to the first floor, G-boy,’ she called out as she shut the door. ‘Be there in five minutes—Chutki, don’t let him dawdle.’
‘Chutki’s a world champion dawdler herself,’ Dhruv grunted as he put the suitcases down and hit the lift button. ‘I’ll be very surprised if they make it out of the flat before twelve.’
The lift was more than half full when it stopped at their floor, and there was only just about space for the two of them and the luggage. Riya had to squeeze in very, very close to Dhruv—and she was intensely conscious of the hard length of his body pressed against hers. If she moved her head a fraction her face would be buried in his chest, and she had to very firmly repress a desire to do just that. The scent of his woody cologne teased at her nostrils, and she was immensely relieved when the elderly lift finally made it to the ground floor, creaking noisily to a halt.
‘This building needs some repairs,’ Dhruv said as he stepped out. ‘Decent construction, but very badly maintained. The stairwell’s a garbage dump, too.’
‘Shh, the secretary of the building society’s just behind us,’ Riya hissed, not sure whether she was more annoyed at his rudeness or about the fact that he had been thinking about the condition of the stairwell when she had been busy lusting after his near-perfect body.
Dhruv shrugged. ‘So?’ he asked. ‘I’m sure he’s noticed that the building’s about to fall down, and if he hasn’t, it’s about time someone pointed it out to him.’
‘Lots of buildings in Mumbai are like that,’ Riya retorted over her shoulder as she marched off towards her car.
She’d bought a spanking new, bright red Hyundai i10 a few months back, and was intensely proud of it—in spite of the niggling feeling that she shouldn’t have spent so much money on herself when her parents were so hard up. Gaurav had held off buying his own car because the flat came with only one parking space, and in return she chauffeured him around whenever he wanted, and nobly refrained from retaliating when he made remarks about her somewhat reckless driving.
‘Is this it?’ Dhruv asked in disbelief as she used the button on her keychain to remotely unlock the car. ‘Where does the luggage go? The car doesn’t have a trunk.’
‘Of course it does,’ Riya said crossly, swinging up the back. ‘The luggage goes right here. And what’s left of it goes in the rear seat.’
‘Well, I’m sitting in front, then,’ Dhruv said decisively, opening the passenger door and moving the seat back to accommodate his long legs. ‘Who’s this car made for? Under-eights?’
Riya slammed her own door shut with a very final thud. ‘Don’t you dare insult my baby, Dhruv Malhotra,’ she said firmly. ‘Otherwise you may just find yourself chucked out on the road halfway to the airport if McQueen decides he doesn’t like you.’
Dhruv’s lips twitched. ‘Is that its name? Wouldn’t a car be female?’
‘Only if it belonged to a dumb male,’ Riya said, backing out of the parking lot and speeding up the ramp to stop in front of the first floor lobby.
Gaurav and Chutki were nowhere in sight, and it was drizzling slightly so she couldn’t get out of the car. Stuck in a confined space with Dhruv, she was even more conscious of the sheer animal attraction of the man. He was probably thinking about trusses and beams again, though, she thought as she saw him look up at the building critically.
‘About last night...’ he began slowly.
Riya rushed into speech. ‘Let’s forget about it, shall we?’ she said. ‘I think we both got a little carried away.’
‘“A little” being an understatement,’ Dhruv murmured, but he let it drop. Riya reminded him of a high-spirited but nervous filly, shying away whenever he got too close. She hadn’t been that way when he first knew her, nor had she been so worried about appearances. He’d picked up on the way she’d carefully tried to hide any hint of the conflict between them from Chutki, from the guests at the party last night, even to an extent from Gaurav. Twelve years ago she wouldn’t have cared who knew about it if she was upset with him.
‘So the car’s a favourite, is it?’ he asked her, and she immediately brightened up as the conversation moved to neutral ground.
‘Yes,’ she said, looking adorably embarrassed. ‘It’s my first car. Actually, it’s the first car in my family—my parents had a scooter, and my sister uses a two-wheeler, too.’
Dhruv nodded. Most people in small towns used two-wheelers, cars being reserved only for the well-to-do. His family had always owned a car, though, and his own first car hadn’t been a novelty—just a set of wheels to get him from one place to another.
He gave Riya a slow, sexy smile, and her insides promptly turned to mush. It was positively sinful the way the man could turn her on with just a look, she thought despairingly. His proximity was like a drug, slowly dulling her instincts for self-preservation.
Dragging her eyes away from his, she spotted Chutki and Gaurav coming out of the foyer loaded with luggage. ‘There they are,’ she said in relief. Any more time with Dhruv and she’d do something stupid—the more people around the better. Ideally, she’d have liked him to move to the back seat, as even with Chutki and Gaurav there she was intensely aware of his closeness, of his knee almost touching hers, his arm loosely slung around the back of his seat as he turned to speak to Gaurav.
Riya drove off the second Gaurav and Chutki had loaded the remaining luggage and got into the car, barely giving Gaurav time to shut the door. He normally teased her about her driving—today, though, he had reason to thank her for her careless disregard for speed limits. They made it to the airport barely ten minutes before the check-in counter closed. She got out of the driver’s seat to help load the suitcases onto two trolleys.
‘See you in a couple of days,’ she said to Gaurav, and hugged him hard, giving Dhruv a slightly defiant look, as if to tell him he could take his disapproval and shove it.
Chutki hugged her, too, saying breathlessly, ‘Thanks a million, Riya. Crazy driving, girl.’
Dhruv was standing next to her, and he touched her hand briefly. ‘Thank you for getting us here in one piece,’ he said. ‘I’ll see you at the wedding.’
The feel of his hand sent a little tingle of sensation up Riya’s arm, and she felt her heart do a dutiful little flip-flop inside her chest when he smiled at her. She wanted to hold on to his hand, but she managed to step back, waving to the three of them as they went into the departure terminal.
* * *
The next day was Monday, and Riya dragged herself to work with more than the normal amount of reluctance. She’d spent the night dreaming embarrassingly erotic dreams about Dhruv, and she wanted to get right back into bed and continue dreaming them. She’d finally convinced her very reluctant self that she needed to steer clear of him, and the dreams were a kind of consolation prize to make up for renouncing the real thing. Especially the ones in which he took off his clothes. Of course her imagination had to supply a fair bit there, given that she’d never actually seen him naked. For all she knew the dreams were better than reality, and they had the advantage of no embarrassing mornings after.
