This is getting out of hand.
Rudra stays seated there, one leg bent and on the ground, the other folded up, and the hand that was on my neck just moments ago rests on his knee. His smirk has stretched into a full, shit-eating grin, because he basically just said the same thing to me thatItold him last night:You look like you’re about to kiss me right now.
The worst part is, I did. Ido. The urge and the want are stronger than ever, and every time I start to feel like I catch a grip on my self-control, I lose it just as quickly.
I turn away from him, my face bursting into flames. I’m glad thesun’s up, because my face feels redder than ever, and I’m hoping the others will think it’s just a sunburn.
I pass them, trying but failing to ignore their stares, and climb a boulder to the highest stretch of ground, where the Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj shrine is. I make sure to take off my shoes and socks and tuck them behind another boulder where the others have left theirs. Shivaji Maharaj was a man, but he’s worshiped like a god in Maharashtra because he was the founder of the Maratha empire. To keep our shoes on would be blasphemy.
I walk up to the shrine. Embedded in a huge stone is a small brick-red idol of Shivaji Maharaj on his horse. I sit on a boulder next to it, soaking up the calm and trying to soothe my fritzing nerves. It’s windy here, and air rushes into my clothes, cooling all my sweaty crevices.
It takes me a moment to catch my breath, push all thoughts of Rudra out of my head, and focus on the up-and-down movement of my chest as I stare at the rolling hills and sharp trees, the blues and greens and yellows.
I can’t believe it. I did it.
I managed to complete this trek that at one point felt like it was never going to end. I’m here, legs swinging from a ledge that looks out over a swathe of green stretching out toward the horizon, the sky literally the color of cornflowers.
Priti’s voice sounds behind me a little while later, startling me out of my thoughts. “Can I join you?”
I don’t look back at her as I say, “When have you ever been the type to ask?”
Priti snorts, climbing onto the ledge beside me. For a moment, we just sit there in silence, listening to the others talk and click photos on their phone. I’m calmer than I was just minutes ago, with thewind drying the sweat on my skin and the stunning view laid out before me.
Priti’s voice is quiet when she finally speaks up. “I wasn’t trying to be mean.”
I don’t say anything. I keep my gaze straight ahead, waiting for her to keep going.
“I just—” she says, a tinge of frustration in her voice. “Things have been so horrid between us for so long, it’s almost become a habit to be this way with you, if you get what I mean? But I appreciate you hearing me out about Rudra last night. And I’ll make it up to you. I’ll be better—we’llbe better. I just need time. Okay?”
Normally, I would just roll my eyes at that, but she’s being honest, and genuine, and that is all that matters to me. I haven’t been entirely loyal to my promise to her either, what with everything that’s been happening with Rudra. But I’m intent on doing better by her from now on.
Because I’m Krishna Kumar, the girl who sees things through.Even when the going gets tough, I don’t back out. And if I was able to make it here, to the top of this peak, I can keep my feelings in check. If not for me, then for Priti.
I finally turn and look at her. Then I nod, exhaling heavily.
“Okay.”
24
Class, Today We’re Covering Flirting 101—and Point One Just So Happens to Be “Don’t Fucking Act Like Krishna Kumar”
Pune, Sunday
We hike back down to the tents, and that takesforever, but I go through the motions mechanically, stuck in limbo between a dream and a nightmare.
About an hour or so past noon, we’re on the bus again. This time I don’t share a seat with anyone because I feel so icky and dirty. I’m both irritated and teary, but that’s just the sultry afternoon heat and the extreme fatigue.
So it’s no surprise when Iactuallyshed a tear after reaching the Sinhas’ place.
After the best shower I’ve ever had in my life, I feel like I’ve just washed off years of grime packed into the layers of my skin. Under the water, the dirt just kept pouring out, mixing with the water and spiraling into the drain. It was like the earth had seeped into my bloodstream through the pores of my skin. Only when I wasconvinced I was completely clean did I turn the shower off.
Now I put on a loose, flowy churidar that flares around my ankles, allowing my skin to breathe while protecting it in its current sun-sensitive state. On top, I shrug on an olive-green angarkha kurta—one of my favorites, with delicate mandala cream designs—that’s like a jacket with one flap tied over the other under my left arm. The dori used to tie the flaps together have tiny cream tassels at the ends, and they shimmer in the bathroom light.
My brown skin doesn’t really let me get sunburned, just tanned from melanin accumulation, but because today’s exposure was severe, I’ll need my skin to heal before I can parade around outside in shorts and tank tops again.
Priti is out with Varun collecting Rudra’s car from the mechanic. Digha and Charu went to her house down the hallway to freshen up, Rudra and Jalaj are taking turns bathing in Jalaj and Varun’s bathroom, and I’m in Charu’s bedroom. For once, Rudra gave in to Priti’s begging and let her drive his car back here, too exhausted to argue.
Drying my hair with a towel, I walk over to the tall mirrors stuck to Charu’s wardrobe, surveying my reflection. I have dark bags under my eyes, but at least that pimple from yesterday is gone, reduced to a red bump. I grab my makeup bag from the side table and quickly put on some black liquid liner, draw a small black bindi between my eyebrows, and don a pair of oxidized silver earrings with olive-green beads hanging from them.
