Page 26 of Red Flags and Rishtas
‘Ha ha,’ he said, but he had a hint of a smile on his face. I waited for him to crush the cigarette and then led the way back indoors.
‘What are you drinking?’ he asked me at the bar, which was getting noisier by the minute.
I’d had a bit of everything up until now, thanks to the stolen sips and drinks. Usually I preferred wine or beer over any other type of alcohol. But I pointed at his empty whisky glass. Tonight, I needed to be on his level.
With our drinks in our hands, we gravitated towards an empty table in one of the quieter corners of the room. I placed my glass on the high table and leaned on it with my elbows, taking a moment to appreciate the turnout tonight.
‘Looks pretty different than that day, huh?’ Aadar asked, following my gaze.
‘I worked very hard to make sure of it,’ I said.
‘I bet,’ he said with a hint of sarcasm, which he must’ve regretted because he changed the topic with a compliment. ‘Nice suit, by the way.’
‘You too,’ I said, pointing to his black-and-blue woven Italian tuxedo.
Three out of the four times I’d met this man, he’d been dressed in formals. I wondered if that was because he knew he looked pretty good in them.
‘So, explored any more rishtas?’ I asked and he chuckled.
‘Been on any more Tinder dates?’ he retorted.
‘Yeah, two,’ I said, unfazed.
He took a second to sip the drink in his hand.
‘You’re telling me you’ve been on two dates with two different guys since the last time I saw you?’
I placed my glass back on the table, a little harder than I’d meant to. ‘Are you slut-shaming me?’
‘No, no, I’m not. I’m just … surprised you had the time. With all this in the pipeline,’ he said, gesturing at the room around us.
‘I made the time. I have a rule …’ I trailed off.
I was revealing too much. Talking to him about my love life made me uneasy. He was no doubt going to judge me for it. But I did have to keep the conversation going somehow …
‘Do tell,’ he said, feigning interest.
Just answer his question, I instructed myself.You can do it.
‘I go on one date every week. Give or take,’ I finally divulged.
‘Wow,’ he said. ‘And how many weeks has this rule lived to see?’
I attempted to calculate how long it had been since my break-up with my lying, cheating pig of an ex in 2017, but the whisky must’ve impaired my abilities to do quick math.
‘Like three years?’ I offered.
He leaned forward, resting his chin on his right hand.
‘You’ve been on over 150 dates?’ he asked, his face lighting up with hilarity.
‘I mean, I’ve no idea if that is the actual math or not, but yeah. My friends call me a bit of a serial dater.’
Okay, I was definitely oversharing. He didn’t need to know any of this. It didn’t help that he looked like he was finally having a good time, revelling in the failures of my romantic endeavours.
‘Enough about me,’ I said before he could probe further.
‘All right, what do you want to know?’ he asked.
