Page 5 of Red Flags and Rishtas
‘We’re outside,’ I spoke into the phone, disconnecting it immediately to greet my date.
‘Hey, sorry I’m late,’ he said, bending down to hug me.
Fuckbois, in my experience, were always huggers. I had never met one who had tried to shake my hand or take a seat without any physical contact. This one, too, squeezed me tight, letting me believe for a microsecond that we’d spent countless days and nights deepening our bond instead of the five-sentence exchange we’d had on Tinder earlier this evening.
‘Shall we?’ I asked, linking my arm through his.
He smiled at me, his square mouth revealing a set of pearly white teeth. As we walked over to the house, I took a second to mentally congratulate myself. I’d done well. Not only was he devilishly handsome, but he was also super fit. I could feel the skin of my arm tingling where it curled around his huge bicep. His printed shirt had a slimming fit, eliminating the possibility of any hidden fat. And as if that wasn’t enough, he was also intimidatingly tall. If I hadn’t worn my nude heels, there’s a solid possibility I could’ve been mistaken for his teenage sister.
‘So whose party is this?’ he asked, his tone casual.
‘Saurav’s. He’s my best friend’s boyfriend,’ I said.
He nodded and waited for me to ring the doorbell as we reached the porch. Now that we were almost inside, I could hear the music loud and clear – an EDM track that would never find its way onto my playlist. Saurav’s parties always had a distinct musical trajectory – the first hour was dedicated to jazz as people trickled in and had their first glass of wine, the second was flooded with EDM, the third and fourth were a mix of pop and hip hop before everyone finally gave in to the genre they enjoyed the most: Punjabi pop.
‘I love this song,’ he said as ‘Rasputin’ remixed by Majestic and Boney M began blasting from the speakers.
I sighed internally.
We were greeted by Vrinda, who squealed and planted a big kiss on my cheek before I had the chance to say hello.
‘You made it!’ she said to us both.
‘Of course! You look like a vision, V,’ I exclaimed, admiring the way her sequined cocktail dress hugged her curves. An elegant diamond necklace sat around her neck, making me conscious of my own lack of jewellery. I wondered if I should have borrowed some bling from my mom for tonight but quickly dismissed the thought. The desire to fit in was not worth texting her every hour with photographic proof of her treasured jewels’ whereabouts.
V thanked me and led us both inside, unaware of the unease already churning in my belly. ‘He’s gorg, by the way,’ she whispered in my ear.
‘Can’t disagree,’ I said, squeezing her hand.
A part of the gang was crowded around the luxurious leather couches in the living room, talking over each other. Saurav and a few others were missing, presumably smoking out on the airy balcony.
‘Annie, hey,’ said Srishti, a girl I recognised from last year’s soiree. She glided from across the centre table to hug me.
I hated when people I barely knew called me that.I’m Ananya, I wanted to tell her.At least to you.But I swallowed the annoyance and returned her smile, letting her hold my hand in the way that drunk people do.
‘And who might this be?’ she asked, eyeing the man I’d entered the party with.
We had a round of introductions for Aakash’s sake, and I began to relax as the focus shifted to my date. A part of me felt guilty for parading him around like a trophy, but he looked likehe was enjoying being the centre of attention. Besides, I fully planned on making it worth his while later.
The first hour was largely uneventful. I’d devised a strategy to get me through this night.Do not engage,I told myself every time someone said something that would rile me up, like ‘Sweetie, you should totally join us for our annual trip to Maldives this year’ or ‘You must be keeping so busy. My manicurist does home visits, you know’. I’d made friends with the uniformed servers, who helped me stuff my face with fancy finger food to avoid conversation. So far, it was working. I was fed and buzzed enough to not care that I didn’t like 95 per cent of the people at this party.
But then, I had the misfortune of interacting with a guy named Jay, whom Saurav introduced as his friend from ‘Uni’, even though I knew they’d both gone to Ram Lal Anand College. He was the Indian equivalent of a frat boy – loud, obnoxious and operating on zero-point-five brain cells.
‘How’s it hanging?’ he said, nodding at me.
‘Getting drunk,’ I said and raised my glass.
He took that as an invitation to join me on the single-seater sofa, wiggling his ass to make space where there wasn’t any, much like the aunties in the Delhi Metro.
‘Wanna play a game?’ he shouted in order to be heard over the music.
Anything to get you off my lap.
‘Um, what’s the game?’ I asked.
‘See that glass on the table?’ he asked, referring to the square glass table sandwiched between the couches.
‘Uh huh.’
