Chapter 8(B):
He liked the sight of her – standing in his kitchen, walking around as if she belonged there and cooking him a meal. He would be labeled as a chauvinist if he spoke this aloud and she would dump entire curry on his head for his audacity. But the primitive part of him cheered on the visual consummation of femininity and art. She was fine art.
Guilt caught in his throat when she looked up from frying pan and gave him a wan smile. She smiled in return hoping that he was pulling all the charms he usually reserved when he flirted and sometimes even slept with married women.
"Can you come here and check this?" She asked him motioning him towards her. He went there nodding wordlessly.
"Tastes good," he said keeping the smile on his face intact.
It hurt smiling at her, but he endured it. He had to.
He had gone out with Asha and had enjoyed it. The call about the injured contractor had come in around one in the morning when they were sitting in the lounge and talking about old times. They had more than several dozen dashed hopes and hurt to last for a long time, and it share back and forth. It had been close to a decade since she had moved away from his life yet he felt like a teenage boy when she tucked hair behind her ears. She had eased him into conversation about travels, exotic food and rare wine which he could easily resonate to.
The pattern detecting, obscure facts quoting, statistics obsessed math graduate was dissolved in his drink. The unexplained constriction in his chest had slowly loosened when the night deepened and the day came to a close.
He hadn't said no when she invited him to spend the night in her suite; they were already at the hotel and it was too late for him to take a ride. The prospect of spending the night only fifteen feet away from her was stimulating.
The sycophancy to his two decade old emotions crumbled every bit of morality he had managed to build for himself for the past two weeks.
He had drowned that thought with a glass of vodka, straight up.
"Are you okay?" She heard him ask. He was gazing over her shoulder when his memories took the moment to raid his thoughts.
"Everything smells delicious," he said watching her swiftly mix the contents of the pan. The deftness was remarkable and the confidence behind it endearing.
"Why did you buy that encyclopedia?" He asked. She looked up in surprise.
He was desperate to abate the avalanche in his chest. For the entire time he was in shower, he couldn't bring himself to answer the question that was bothering him since the moment his eyes had fell on her that morning. What would have happened if the call about injured contractor had not come? Each time he answered, he felt an uninitiated rage consuming him.
Dichotomy of Asha and Khushi continued to scramble the moral compass. The needle kept hovering, unable to find a stand.
Contradiction dictated his life.
"I miss reading encyclopedia. I miss picking a book, turning on a random page and…just read." She said slowly transferring the content from pan to a serving bowl. "After dealing with one dozen stiff necks who don't care anything but the dividend and ensure that I work my butt off to improve that year by year, encyclopedia was a haven. It was the only non-technical literature in my office." Her hands were steady while thick liquid poured noiselessly.
"You had an office in your last job?" He asked, surprised at her admission. She was caught off-guard with his question and the serenity that surrounded her had made her talk about her past without knowing implication of them. The sudden jerk by her body, sloshed the hot liquid on her wrists and palm. She yelped in pain and dropped the pan on counter with a loud clunk.
"Careful!" Arnav yelled and caught her wrist. He pushed her to the sink and opened the tap. He stood behind her, his arms around her and gently caressed her wrist and palm under water. After minutes, she relaxed her body slowly as the pain subdued and exhaled loudly.
"I am okay." She said her voice husky. The pain had got to her and had clenched her throat. He leaned in front trapping her between him and sink and peered at her now reddened wrist.
"It's nothing serious, just scalded." He said.
He lost his breath when she leaned back on him and lolled her head on his shoulder. Her neck was flushed and her skin smelled of cheap antiseptic soap. Her invitation was her vulnerability. He knew that and she didn't. Would she be coy had she known that this trait of hers was probably his undoing?
He let her hand go and pulled her to him, his hands snaking her waist and locking her to him.
It felt as if he had witnessed balance of the conflicts being tipped. And Khushi's side wasn't the winning one. He felt saddened at that. "I am so sorry," he whispered. He didn't know what he was apologizing for but he felt the need to do so.
"I had the same feeling I did three months ago. Walking off a ledge and fly into the night. But I…couldn't," her voice felt like sandpaper.
His eyes went wide and words got stuck in his throat. He froze when the deduction hit him.
To be continued.
Originally posted by: V323Dear CynicalNoob,
Now, being all the practical you, you may not enjoy my really long flowery speeches, but you have to bear with them. No choice. :)so, I caught up with ALL the eight f**king chapters in one go, and can I just say, for a noob, you do write brilliantly. Like really awesomely. :DWhat I especially love is how you stick to the characters, and yet don't make it boring. I really wannna see how it goes.👏Do you do PM's? Include me in the grid, wont you? Oh wait. I already asked you for that. 😳-VPS- I saw you shake your head and go silly, bhulakkad V. Don't deny it. I did. and with deference to your feelings, didn't make it my usual standard long. You do have programmes to design. And a QT to romance in the office. (shit, did I just say that out loud? claps forehead). I didn't say QT, as in the QT who writes Event Horizon. I meant like a wierd version of cuttiiiee. Kinda like SMS language. Makes sense? Did you think of the QT we know? HAWWW!!!! Don't ask how do I know of the QT in the office. Yeah well, my dear noobical cynic (don't make sense, don't sweat trying to figure it out), every work space has a cuttiiieee, who well... every guy likes to romance. 😛 😆😃PPS- I'm sixteen, just in case you think I'm a 20 something person, and tell me that my brain never quite grew out of the sweet-sixteen phase. 😆PPPS- You should check this writer out. They call her S (username=Sookie). You'll like her. Promise!
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