Shit.
He’s been therethis whole time.
“What are you doing here?” I squeak at Rudra, blood rushing to my face and filling it with heat.
“Waiting for the two of you,” Rudra says, still grinning.
“Does privacy mean nothing to you? I’m still in bed!”
“Chill, Krishna,” Priti says. “He came in, like, a minute ago.”
“And where’s the trust?” Rudra says, putting his legs down, eyebrows raised. “You literally took a shower in my room last night.”
I fight the urge to pull the blankets up over my face and cover myself. My cheeks are fever hot.
“Back up,” Priti says, her eyebrows knitting. “You took a shower in Rudra’s washroom? Why?”
“There was no hot water.”
“Ijusttook a shower. It was perfectly warm.”
“It wasn’tlast night.”
I can feel Rudra staring at me from the corner of my vision and get the feeling he thinks I lied to him. Great. Priti has me pinned with a suspicious glare, tinged with possessiveness, and it’s similar to the one yesterday, except this time she’s not even being subtle about it.
“Whatever,” I say, breaking the silence. I hate this. “I’m going to change.”
“Thank you,” Priti says, throwing her hands up in relief.
Rudra gets to his feet as I swing my legs to the side of the bed, muttering darkly under my breath.
“I’m going to my room,” he says. “Give you yourprivacy.” The cheeky asshole pauses just outside the door, dropping the final bomb. “Also, you left your clothes in my room last night, so I brought them back for you.”
I glare at him as he walks out, the truth hitting me much too late.
Oh no.
Oh fuck no.
In my hurry to leave his room last night, I left my dirty clothes, my dirtyunderwearin his room!
Whydoes this sort of thing only happen to me?
Priti’s staring at me with her eyes narrowed again, and if I don’t get up now, she’s going to fling another sock at me. The bed and cozy blankets implore me to stay as I get to my feet, and I’m so sleepy I want to throw a tantrum again. But I remind myself I can sleep in the car (fuck the rules about all of us staying up, I don’t care) and somehow muster the energy to get ready.
Because I took a shower last night, I just need to brush my teeth, wash my face, and change. I grab my short, white, sleeveless kurti, apair of high-waisted shorts, white eyeliner, and silver jhumkas, hoping it’ll all blend into a cute outfit.
But when I go stand in front of the mirror, I’m horrified to find a pimple poking out the side of my face. And it’s one of those pus-filled monsters that get uglier and bigger as the day moves along. Plus, they hurt like hell.
Could this day get any worse?
Itdoes. It gets worse. And not just your regular mishap. Things go to shit. Smelly, diarrhea-induced shit.
But I’m not surprised. It’s been building up to this.
Rudra’s car doesn’t start.
When we get in, he tries. Presses the ignition button, shifts gears, does some other stuff I don’t really understand but find hot (wrong time and place, Krishna), and even gets out to open the hood.
