“Are you going to sleep?” I ask her.
“Yes. I’m dead tired.”
I give my underarms a quick sniff and make a face.Okay, nope. I push myself off the bed, grab my suitcase from the wardrobe, and pull out my towel, bathrobe, and nightclothes. “I’m taking a bath.”
“Hmm,” Priti mumbles, her eyes shut and body splayed out like the Vitruvian Man.
I sigh. “Priti, you haven’t even brushed your teeth.”
“Hmm-mm.”
“Priti.”
“Just wake me up when you’re done,” she says, irritation coating her voice.
Anyone who ever saysWake me up blah-blahnever actuallymeans it. When Priti gets up tomorrow with her mouth smelling like shit, the previous day’s eye makeup running down her face, and a pimple poking out of her chin, she’s going to regret having given in to slumber.
I hang my clothes on the hooks behind the bathroom door, strip, and drag my feet toward the shower, turning the knob all the way to the left. I’ve always preferred a hot bath to a cold one. I have lazy muscles and slow circulation, so the heat tends to get my blood flowing. Besides, it’s cooler here in Pune, so it’s not like Mumbai, where some days it gets so hot that you absolutely can’tnottake a cold shower.
I wrap my arms around my body, waiting for the water to get hot, intermittently dunking my toes in. But for some reason, the water stays ice-cold. I stand there, buck naked and shivering, for nearly five minutes before giving up.
A groan tears out of me. Should I hop into the shower for a moment? I can’t risk ending up with a cold, though. How am I supposed to kiss Amrit with a runny nose?
That horrifying thought motivates me to put on my clothes again, and when I step out, I have an idea—I could use Rudra’s bathroom.
I glance at Priti, snoring peacefully on the bed, and consider waking her up. But then I’m reminded of how she looked at Rudra and me weirdly back at the food mall. Priti is too shrewd, and I don’t want to give her another reason to suspect I have a thing for Rudra. Because Idon’thave a thing for Rudra.
Besides, Rudra is in love with Priti. And given her twinge of jealousy earlier, I’m sure she’s in love with him too.
I replace the room key in the key card holder with a visitor card I find in my fanny pack so the electricity in our room stays on, and shut the door closed behind me.
I knock on Rudra’s door once, then again a minute later. Whenhe doesn’t open the door even after that, I press my ear to it, brow furrowed, straining my ears for the faintest sound within.
Andof coursehe chooses to open the door that very second. I feel myself tip forward, balance lost, and grab the first thing I can to support myself.
Rudra’s T-shirt.
Imagine (seriously, just imagine) you open your door, and you find a girl you barely know eavesdropping before she stumbles into your room, her forehead smacking your chin. Not just that. She grabs afistful of your clothing.
Bad, isn’t it?
It gets worse.
Because I don’t move. I just stay there, frozen, face smushed into Rudra’s collarbone, inhaling a new scent, a good scent, even better than before, his freshly showered hair wet and cold.
“Um,” Rudra says, clearing his throat. “Could you—”
“Ohmygod,” I say, leaping away from him. “I’m sorry... I didn’t... I thought you...”And she can’t even string a coherent sentence together.
“It’s fine,” he says, brushing me off. It’s probably my bizarre imagination, but I think (Ithink) I see a blush redden his cheeks. “What’s up?”
“I—There’s no hot water in our bathroom, and I need a shower. I was wondering if there’s hot water in your room?”
“Oh. Yeah, I bathed. The water’s warm. Come on in.” Rudra steps back, leaving the door ajar, and I shuffle in reluctantly.
“Great. Thank you so much.”
I quickly step into the bathroom and shut the door behind me, eager to not look him in the eye and be reminded of that disastrous moment again.
