Page 65 of Red Flags and Rishtas
‘Well, not exactly,’ I said and paused for a moment before adding, ‘not yet.’
He wiped imaginary sweat off his forehead. ‘Phew.’
I rolled my eyes at him, nudging him to move over so I could lean against the car next to him.
‘Okay, your turn.’
He continued to smoke his cigarette in silence for a few moments.
‘I’m “seeing” someone too.’ He made air quotes with his fingers.
I tried to ignore the instant change in the pace of my heartbeat.
‘Don’t be vague,’ I chided.
‘I’ve met the girl two times,’ he said, dropping the light and stubbing it out with his heel. ‘She seems nice.’
‘And you’ll marry “nice”?’ I asked, crossing my arms in front of my chest.
‘Why not? What’s wrong with nice?’
‘Nothing,’ I said, then shook my head. ‘Or everything. I don’t know.’
He chuckled, shaking his head. ‘You’re so weird.’
‘This conversation is making me want to drink,’ I said, pushing off from the car.
He caught my arm before I could step away. The warmth of his hand spread across my forearm, sending sparks down my spine.
‘Here,’ he said, producing a hip flask from the inside pocket of his blazer.
I accepted the flask from him, smiling down at it. ‘Why are you carrying a flask when there’s free booze at the party?’
‘So I don’t have to keep making trips to the bar,’ he said. ‘Plus, that is the free booze.’
I took a swig from the mouth of the steel container, contorting my face as the intensity of the drink hit my throat. He followed my lead, bringing the flask to his mouth. In the safety of the dark parking lot, I allowed myself to look at him. Watching him up close felt like he had a slo-mo filter on him. I observed the way his lips parted to welcome the whisky, how his Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed and the precise manner in which he wiped off the droplets on his chin.
‘More?’ he asked, offering the flask back to me.
If I’d been sober, I would’ve calculated the number of drinks I’d already had, the hours I’d slept the previous nights, the total amount of water I’d consumed all day and decided that I’d had my fill of alcohol for the day. But the whisky had begun to overpower the rational part of my brain, and I felt compelled to feed the addictive high I was starting to experience.
We passed the drink between us at regular intervals as we continued to stand there in the parking lot, neither of us suggesting that we go back to the ballroom.
‘My brother told me about your little breakdown in Khan Market,’ Aadar said abruptly.
I covered my face with one hand, feeling my cheeks turn hot. ‘I wish he hadn’t done that.’
I prepared myself for a mild roast, though I wasn’t sure if he’d joke aboutmyparticular ineptitude or the general incompetence of women drivers. Neither approach would’ve been highly enjoyable, but only one was acceptable.
‘Give me your phone,’ he said, taking it from my hand before I had the chance to oblige him.
‘What are you doing?’ I tried to snatch it back from him. ‘Give it back.’
He held the phone over his head, way out of my reach. He tapped my home screen, held it out in front of my face and smiled proudly when it unlocked automatically.
‘Seriously,’ I warned, jumping up and down like a child to retrieve my phone from his grasp. ‘Stop spying on me.’
‘Or what?’
