Page 22 of Stumped

Despite all the things working against the team—stellar bowling by Mumbai, rowdy spectators calling us every bad word in their vocabulary, missing easy shots—we beat the Legends by six runs. The win is bittersweet because we got them back by taking away home ground advantageandsix runs was a very purposeful move. It’s like saying ‘you thought you were better, watch us now’.

So to celebrate the Renegades management has cordoned off a portion of the rooftop of our hotel and opened the bar for everyone attending. I show up because I want to support my boys, but also so I’m not sitting alone in my hotel room. There’s only so much punishment a person can take before it starts to wear on them. And after being locked away with the medical team through the whole match, I’m taking this as a tiny reward.

“So…who was she?”

I look up from my phone, still open to Vera’s Instagram, and smile as my closest friend saunters over. Sebastian ‘Bash’ Paul and I joined the Renegades around the same time, rose up the ranks together and stuck by each other through everything.Like me, he was born in Kerala, but raised by his Anglo-Indian?1 grandparents in Mumbai.

“Who was who?” I pocket my phone and tap my glass against his.

He offers me a wry smile and leans against the high table. “Was she worth it?”

The PR team told me to deny everything about that night. They meant don’t talk to the press, but this is Bash, he’s one of the few people I trust.

“Totally worth it.”

“Oh fuck, you went home with her.”

I nod, scanning the people around us. “Best night of my life.”

“How much trouble are you in?”

“Spending the rest of the season on the road with you is my punishment.”

He laughs, punching me in the arm and winces. “Fuck, sorry, bro.”

I wave him off and rotate my shoulder gently. “It’s only bad when Doc insists on twisting my arm until it fucking breaks again.”

We share a laugh, because all of us know how vicious Dr. Theo can be when it comes to our PT. He’s a damn good doctor, but the man likes to torture us before taking it easy on us.

“You gonna see her again?” he asks and I shrug.

“Doubt it. Left my number, but she never called.”

“Maybe she’s busy.”

“Or she doesn’t want to see me again.”

“Who doesn’t want to see you again?” a deep voice asks and I look past Bash to see Samar Krishnan joining our table.

Another close friend, Samar is one of the best bowlers I know. You know he’s on his A-game when we can’t hit the good shots during practice sessions. He’s a dedicated player and one of the veterans on the Renegades. I always get a kick out oftelling him he inspired me to play the sport, mostly because it’s a good reminder of how much older he is. Despite all that, Samar has been the most incredible mentor and I respect his opinion on pretty much everything.

“His lady of the night,” Bash offers with a stupid smile.

I playfully lunge at him and he laughs, the asshole. “It wasonenight. I’m not expecting anything from her.”

“But you left your number.”

“In case she needed it,” I say and Samar narrows his eyes. I can tell he doesn’t believe a word coming out of my mouth. “That’s the truth.”

My friends nod indulgently, but definitely know I expected more from Vera than radio silence. As Bash and Samar discuss the plays of the evening, I finish my drink and excuse myself to get a refill. When I reach the bar, goosebumps skitter across my skin at the sound of a familiar laugh.

It can’t be. There’s no way I manifested her onto this rooftop.

I breathe deeply, the sea breeze ruffling my hair as I nod at the bartender. Drink in hand, I turn and survey the rooftop. If she’s here, I’m going to lose my mind. I hear the laugh again and the corner of my mouth kicks up into a smile. The first time I heard it, I wanted to bottle it up. Maybe even swallow it and keep it locked away inside my chest. Every time she smiled, I pressed my mouth to hers, wanting to feel the curve of her lips against mine. Wanting to lick the shape of her smile and see if it tastes different from when her lips are turned down.

The sounds float away and I sip on my drink. Bash and Samar are in a serious conversation, foreheads crinkled as they stare at a phone. Some of my teammates are lounging on couches, drinking and conversing quietly. There’s a group of women standing to the side smoking and laughing. It’s agood evening for the team and I’m glad they’re all unwinding, especially since we’ve got five days before the next match.

The laugh drifts over again and is now accompanied by a flirtatious remark in an equally familiar husky voice and my heart races.Sheishere. There’s nobody else I know that sounds like Vera. The idea she’s on the same rooftop as me, miles away from our home city, miles away from where we first met and shared the most incredible night of my life seems ridiculous. I focus on her voice, head swivelling in the direction it’s coming from and my stomach drops.

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