Page 4 of Bad At Love

“Wait, is he there? Are you safe? Should I call the cops?”

“I’m fine, DP. Just stuck here. The idiot didn’t take it well that I dumped him.”

That surge of protectiveness he always felt toward her engulfed him. “Where do you meet these losers anyway? What kind of man can’t take being dumped with a little grace?”

“Less judgement and more will you be able to come, please,” Chaaru said, cutting into his lecture with a sharpness she rarely used against him. Then she sighed. “Sorry, DP. It’s been a long day. You’re the last person I should take it out on.”

“I won’t crumble, Char,” he said, tenderness he couldn’t hide creeping into his tone.

“See? You’re a real man and I keep expecting these whiny wieners to be like you.” Another sigh. “You’ve spoiled me for any other man.”

The thought, mocking as it was, stunned him into silence. He stole a glance at Pooja. She was standing by the booth, her body language screaming impatience.

“DP?” Chaaru said, her voice tentative now.

“I’m here,” he said, running a hand through his hair.

Outside, orange and pink splashes of dusk fought with the relentless November drizzle. The result was a rainbow-ish twilight, as if the world couldn’t decide what color it wanted to be.

It matched how he felt inside at her words, like his emotions were a splashy rainbow themselves.

“I’m okay to wait a couple of hours if you want to finish your date, DP,” Chaaru said.

“No!” His refusal was instant, instinctive.

Not that he could tell her that even if he took Pooja home, he would be thinking of her hand-cuffed and alone in that buffoon’s apartment. He would be thinking of her even if he and Pooja had sex. And that felt…both wrong and right in ways he didn’t want to plumb.

“Please, listen to me. I’m not in a hurry to return home,” Chaaru said, her tone pleading. “I don’t want to ruin your date. I’ll catch a nap and you can wake me up like my very own knight in shining armor,” she said, her laugh turning husky.

DP knew she was trying to make up for being sharp earlier but her words drew such a vivid image that his body responded immediately. As if her voice had a direct line to his cock. He rubbed a hand over his face, wondering if he was going mad. “No, I’ll leave immediately. Should I bring my tools with me?”

“No. The asshole painter dropped the key in his desk drawer right in front of me.”

“Text me his address,” DP said, struggling with his own temper now. The faster he got her out of there, the better he would feel. “Would you prefer I keep talking to you while I drive? Or maybe we should keep your phone free to call the cops if he returns?”

“He’s harmless, DP.”

Whatever his feelings about her love life, he did trust her judgement. “Okay, yeah. Hang tight. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

He hung up, feeling as tangled as he always did around her.

Any interaction with Chaaru these days reminded him of the rollercoaster ride with his sister and brother that one time.

He hated the damn thing but Maggie had insisted that she’d go only if he did. And because he didn’t want his little sister to grow up scared of a little risk, he’d given in. The flimsy car had jostled him from side to side and he’d screamed at the top of his lungs during the dizzying drops. But it was the slow, unending climb to the drop that had tied his stomach in tight knots.

Of late, that’s how his relationship with Chaaru felt like, the lines between them beginning to blur.

“DP?”

At the wary tone, he turned to find Pooja staring at him with pursed lips. For just a second, he felt that discombobulation when returning to reality after anything Chaaru-related. It was like coming back from a dream world to hard, colorless reality.

And then he felt awful for calling this lovely woman colorless reality.

“What did Chaaru want?” Pooja said.

He cleared his throat, eager to deflect the sudden awkwardness between them. No, not awkwardness, but anger.

Pooja was angry, and had every right to be. Damn it, why hadn’t he taken the call out of her earshot? “She’s caught in a delicate situation and needs rescuing.”

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