Chapter 6

2 years ago

varshaoforange

@varshaoforange

Imlie walked out of the bathroom in a pale blue salwar kameez a couple minutes later, drying her hair with a towel, of course singing a song. She stopped as she saw Aryan sitting on her bed, staring at something. Wait, it looks like he’s staring at me? No, he’s clearly exhausted, bechara.

She walked up to him and waved her hand in from of his face, “Earth to Aryan Singh Rathore. Tum kahaan kho gaye ho?” (Where are you lost?)

Aryan shook out of his trance and grabbed the hand in front of him and without thinking about it he pulled, “Why the hell are you always like this? Every moment just messing around.”

But pulling was a mistake. Imlie, still weak on one ankle, stumbled and fell onto Aryan, and the bed. Strands of her hair fell onto Aryan’s face. She had instinctively steadied herself by putting her hand that wasn’t in Aryan’s on his chest. And now, her face centimeters away from his, she could feel his heartbeat under her hand. It seemed to speed up, but maybe that was just her heartbeat. Wait, why was her heart beating so fast?

Aryan’s brain seemed to shut down. All he could do was look at her. All his brain was processing right now was the way her eyes seemed to be a sea of brown and black water, with what looked like tiny golden specks. His brain seemed hyper-focused on that damn coconut and flower scent. After what seemed like minutes, but was only a few seconds, Aryan cleared his throat.

Imlie left her thoughts and the focus on her heart behind, this wasn’t the time to get emotion sickness, she thought.

“I’m sorry.”

Both of them spoke at the same time, and Imlie started to get up, though it was difficult because her wrist was still in Aryan’s grip.

“Mere haath tho chod do, na.” (Let go of my hand). Imlie struggled to get off of him.

“Kyun?” (Why?) Aryan blurted out.

“Kaa?” (What?) Imlie said, confused.

“Oh, right.” Aryan realized what he said and let go of her hand, “I just—never mind.”

Imlie finally managed to stand up and looked awkwardly around, “So should we just do it?”

“Kaa?” (What?) Aryan asked, confused.

“Tum humhari jaise Hindi kyun bol rahe ho?” (Why are you speaking Hindi like me?) Imlie asked.

“I—never mind. Yes, let’s finish the layout and then show me your draft of you article. I’ll highlight the points you should hit in an interview on TV.” Aryan said, straightening his collar and standing up. He walked to his laptop and then put it next to Imlie’s on her desk.

“Let me just get a chair from my room, hold on.” Aryan strode out of the room, and left Imlie wondering what the hell was wrong with him. She also started to wonder what the hell was going on with her.