Page 61 of Stumped

It’s not every day he says my name, but when he does it’s always with this tone of awe, like he can’t believe I’m with him. To be very honest, I sometimes can’t believe we’re standing together either. I pat his stomach and walk to the kitchen so I can put the flowers into a vase. I set it on my dining table, beside the succulent that’s struggling to stay alive.

“Maybe I should have brought you another one of those,” he teases.

“Hilarious.”

Elias has discovered that while I love flowers and enjoy receiving them, I am not a plant person. I have the brownest thumb known to humankind and he’s witnessed it in person. The balcony has a whole bunch of pots with carcasses of plants that once had gorgeous lives. When he first saw them, he was amused. He brought me a cactus and within a week, it was dead. Then he got me an adorable succulent, claiming it would be impossible to kill it. I proved him wrong again. So he got meanother one and that’s what sits beside the flowers now, silently waiting for me to kill it and put it out of its misery.

“You ready to go?”

I nod and hurry to my bedroom where I tug on my ankle booties and give myself one last look in the mirror. Idolook beautiful. While I have zero issues with people checking me out or staring at my ample chest, I also know going out with Elias means if we draw too much attention to ourselves, something could go wrong. He’s been playing so well his face is recognisable in any situation. So I’m wearing my sleeveless black dress with a black sheer top that provides a little modesty and protects my boobs from being ogled by idiots in crowded spaces.

I lock up my apartment and follow him down to the car, surprised to find Kuriakose isn’t joining us.

“Gave him the evening off. He’s heading home for a family wedding tomorrow and didn’t want to keep him out late,” Elias says as he opens the passenger side door for me. “Besides, I want you all to myself.”

I click the seatbelt in as he slides in behind the wheel. This isn’t the first time I’ve been in the car while he drives, but it’s still very distracting. One hand is on the steering wheel as he pulls out of my building and after adjusting the AC vents and radio dial, his other hand lands on my thigh. I give him directions to the venue and put my hand over his.

“Congratulations on the game today.”

“It was a tough one,” he says, glancing at me briefly. “I always underestimate the Hot Shots until we’re standing on their field and dealing with their fans.”

“They were really vocal.”

He chuckles. “I’m sure the cameras didn’t pick up half the shit they were saying to us when we were fielding.”

“You understand Telugu?”

“Absolutely not, but they found ways to say it in every language possible. Variety of ‘motherfuckers’, ‘cocksuckers’ were tossed our way.”

“I didn’t know the Hyderabad fans hated you guysthatmuch.”

“Neither did I. I know we have a rivalry with Bangalore and Mumbai, so I was surprised by today’s reception.”

“But it was a good game. You played really well.”

He stops at a red light and turns to me, the dreamiest smile on his face. “Still can’t believe you’re watching cricket after all the shit you said about the game.”

“I’m watchingyouplay cricket.”

With a shake of his head and half a smile, Elias looks ahead and follows the map instructions as he shifts lanes. He turns into a dark road, the only light provided by a single streetlamp a few feet ahead.

“Are we in the right place?”

I nod and peer out the window. “The Marquee?1 used to be a popular spot for local bands to perform when I was growing up. It has this whole prohibition era thing going on. They never carded us, even when we were sixteen. They shut it down a few years ago because the owner was arrested for selling drugs to minors.”

A man in a reflective vest beckons us forward and gestures to the window. We show him our passes and he waves us through. Elias leans forward as well, hoping to clearly see this place I’m talking about. There are enough cars in front of us that the headlights are showing hints of the old stone building.

“Built back when the British were here, I think it was originally meant to be some kind of school or something. But after independence, they ripped out the insides the best they could and turned it into a performance venue. About two yearsago, an old classmate of mine bought and renovated it. I’ve seen pictures, but never been inside.”

“I’m always so impressed by how much you know of this city.”

I laugh and flip my hair over my shoulder. “Always loved the history of this place and growing up here helped me dig deeper.”

Another person in a reflective vest stops us and opens my door. I glance at Elias and he looks uncertain about handing his keys over, but gives in reluctantly. He rounds the car as he slides his cap on and stretches a hand out to me. I adjust my dress and slip my fingers through his. We follow the other guests heading inside and a part of me wonders how much of asecretthis is.

“Stay close to me,” he whispers and I tuck myself into his side, looking at everyone, attempting to see any familiar faces.

Once inside, our passes are scanned and wrists are stamped. As we move further into the Marquee, Elias tenses beside me. There’s a lot of people and everyone’s standing around talking to each other. I forgot how big the place is. Even with the high ceilings and giant stone pillars planted randomly, the venue feels cavernous. Elias keeps his head down as I tip mine back, smiling as I take in the old chandeliers that were there back in the day. The stained glass has been updated, replacing the religious figures with famous rockstars.

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