Page 10 of Stumped

I’ve lived in Chennai for a while and this is the most I’ve explored the city. Shameless flirting, bar hopping and dancing in a club were not on my list of things to do thatyear, let alone that evening. But it felt really good. So good I ignored every twinge in my shoulder from all the ways I’ve pulled her into my arms. I can sort it out in PT later. Tonight is about forgetting who we are for a few more hours and enjoying what we can.

I’m also ignoring the promise I made to not fall in love with her. I’m not there yet, but I doubt it’s a promise I can keep.She doesn’t need to know that though.

My team flailing tonight is long forgotten and dreams of winning the championship trophy have been replaced byher. She’s stumped me at every turn. I don’t even care someone recognised me at the club, because she’s all that matters.

Especially since she’s speaking Malayalam.

I’ve never thought of our language as sexy, but it’s clear Vera could make anything seductive. Then it dawns on me that she understood what Kuriakose said earlier and I wince.

“Shocked I speak the same language?”

I laugh at her smug expression. “Surprised.”

“Vera Thomas. Born in Kottayam and raised all over the place. My grandparentsinsistedI learn to read Malayalam so I’m pretty fucking good at it.”

“Elias Joseph. Born in Kochi, raised in Bangalore and now living in Chennai. I can’t read or write, but I pride myself on speaking it fluently.”

She leans forward and in Malayalam asks, “What about you, Kuriakose?”

“I’m from Trivandrum, been working for the family for a few years. When he moved to Chennai, I also came,” my constant companion replies.

There are bits I don’t want to tell her yet. Being this version of myself is refreshing and I’m in no rush to lose my anonymity.

“Does this mean you’refinallygoing to tell me who you are?”

Should have seen that coming. After a long moment of battling with myself, I ask, “Would it make a difference if you knew every detail about my life?”

“I don’t want to know about your life. Only what you’re doing having someone drive you around and why you walked into a dark bar wearing a cap.”

She pulls said cap out of her bag and I turn it over in my hands. My fingers brush over the tears in the stitching, the faded logo of my childhood cricket team—Chennai Crease Crew—and my number nineteen on the front.

“Trying to keep a low profile.”

“Are you famous?”

“Vera,” I grind out and she rolls her eyes.

“I’ll google you later.”

“Why is this important?”

“I’ve spent the whole night with you and it’s been great. But there are moments when panic flashes through your eyes and I don’t know how to help!”

“You don’t need to help.”

“Why are we always running out of places?”

I groan, pinching the bridge of my nose as I close my eyes. I run through the various ways I can tell her who I am, without giving too much away.

“I’m sort of famous, I guess. I don’t always get recognised, but it might happen. You’re the first person I’ve met inyearsthat doesn’t know who I am. So forgive me for wanting to live in this bubble where I get to have the attention of the most beautiful person in the world not because she knows who I am, but because she wants to have a good time.”

The car is silent, even the traffic sounds have softened. I look up to find Vera staring. It takes her a few minutes to react and the first thing out of her mouth is, “The most beautiful person in the world?”

Because that’s what she is, even if she can’t see it. She’s unfiltered and slightly messy, but I like that. The only makeup I can identify is around her eyes. Two piercings blink back at me from her ears and her wrists are covered in friendship bands, bangles and a digital Casio watch. Her hair is wild and untamed, her eyes are bottomless pools I want to get lost in.

Vera Thomas is exactly the kind of woman I have been looking for.

“Yup,” I say softly. “Almost knocked me off my feet when we first met.”

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