“Shh,” Rudra says, pressing his fingers to my lips, and that successfully manages to shut me up.
He’s squinting through the gaps in the metal frame, distracted. I watch him, not daring to even breathe. I can’t think beyond the facts that his fingers areon my lipsand that he’s closer than he’s ever been.
It’s dark here, but I spot a flash of movement from the corner of my eye, and the grumbling of a man in Marathi. I don’t understand what he’s saying, but he sounds very annoyed. Annoyed enough that if we get caught here, we’re royally screwed.
Rudra turns toward me, and retracts his hand, as if just realizing he was touching my lips. He suddenly looks all flustered and sheepish. It hardly compares to how I’m feeling, enveloped in this dark, tiny space with him and that inviting apricot scent of his.
My neck is turning hot, whether from the lack of air here or Rudra standing inches away from me, I don’t know. The last time I was this close to a guy was when I was with Amrit last night, sitting on the couch.
It feels like that happened weeks ago.
The man mutters something, sighs, and starts walking away, back in the direction he came from. Thankfully, he seems to have decided to sort the clutter out later. Because I don’t think I could spend one moment more here with Rudra Desai without feeling like my legs will turn to jelly.
“Let’s leave before he gets back,” Rudra whispers, and I jerk my head to the side so fast I get a face full of book dust in my nose.
Unfortunately, that triggers the sneeze I was about to let outminutes ago. I clamp my palm over my nose, fighting the ticklish, uncomfortable sensation, but before I know it, the sneeze rips free. And it’s not muted or dainty, as I hope it will be.
The sound is deafening in the quiet of the space.
And it doesn’t happen just once. I sneeze again, and thenagain.
Rudra looks stunned. I don’t know whether to be horrified or laugh.
When I finally come up for air, my hair falling into my face, I hear footsteps again, this time more hurried. Yells and curses in Marathi follow, and my mind goes,Oops.
But Rudra and I are already running. We dash out of the corridor and twist toward the staircase before the man has a chance to get a glimpse of us. Then it’s down the flight of stairs, a sharp turn, and into the chaos of the food mall again.
There’s no one behind the book tables, thankfully, so once we mingle into the crowd, there’s little chance the man is going to find us. Rudra and I stop to take a breath by a juice shop, hands on our knees and adrenaline buzzing in our ears.
Then our eyes meet, through my mess of hair, and I can’t help it. I burst into laughter. Rudra watches me, and although he doesn’t laugh, he’s grinning.
I’ve never seen him grin like that before. The shock on our faces when the rack initially fell, and then the astonishment on Rudra’s when I sneezed, both play in my head, and at this point, I’m wheezing between chortles.
“Your face!” I say, wiping tears from my eyes. I know I’ll look back on this moment in the future and cringe with embarrassment for my past self, but at this moment, I don’t care. This day is turning out to be comically shitty.
“You sneeze like my dad” is all Rudra says in return.
8
Is a Road Trip Even Complete Without Two People Fighting for the Good Seat?
Mumbai, Friday
Rudra and I find Priti seated at a table near a chaat shop, an empty paper plate and half-full (or half-empty, if you’re a pessimist) cup of lemon tea in front of her.
We join her, and she eyes us with a dirty look on her face that is drifting between annoyance—which isn’t new—and curiosity. There are a few bhel morsels scattered across the plate, so I gather she probably had a chaat. Maharashtra’s chaats are truly unbeatable.
“Where the hell were you guys?” Priti demands.
“The book fair,” Rudra says, reaching for her cup of tea and taking a sip.
“The book fair?” Priti looks even more suspicious now.“You?”
“He came with me,” I say. “It was dark upstairs, so he thought it’d be better if we went together.”
She snatches her cup back from Rudra. If I’m not mistaken, shelooks slightly... jealous. “You two were supposed to be here five minutes ago.”
“Actually, we’re just on time,” Rudra says, glancing at his Titan watch. It beeps on cue, and he turns it off. “See?”
