I can’t help but enjoy every second of the whole process, not just because Priti’s giving me a glow up, but also because this is different. This is the most sisterly thing we’ve done in eight years. Last I remember spending time with her, we clipped Nani’s towels to our heads to mimic wigs and dashed around from room to room, playing house on fire, pretending to be part of a Barbie firefighter squad responsible for rescuing everyone in the house.
Now we’re both here in Goa on a road trip after lying to our parents about our whereabouts, getting ready together to go out partying. We’re sharing clothes, doing our makeup, blasting music, and singing along. It’s the best time we’ve had together in eight years, and I just never ever want this moment to pass.
A smile sprouts along my face as Priti sets my hair with her fingers, giving it an artfully messy look.
“Why are you smiling?” she asks.
My smile grows more solemn. “I’m just thinking about how I love this.”
“Love what?”
“This.Us. Right now.”
Priti pauses for a moment, stepping away, and I think she’s just checking out my final look, but she smiles too. “Yeah.” She reaches out and affectionately brushes her fingers through my hair. “It’s been a while since we did something without fighting, huh?”
The thought of it makes tears spring to my eyes, and Priti stares at me in horror, immediately scrambling for some tissues. “Eye makeup, Krishna! Eye makeup!”
“I’m sorry, I just—” I grab the tissue and hold it under my eye, soaking up the teardrop before it has the chance to spill out, careful to not ruin my makeup. “I’ve just missed you so much.”
Priti’s gaze softens, and she sits back on the dressing table in front of me. “I know. I’ve missed you too.”
“But you hated me.” I wave my hands furiously in front of my face, tipping my face toward the ceiling in the hopes of defying gravity.
“I didn’t hate you.” Priti sighs. “I know I’ve made you feel that way, but I never hated you.”
“I wish we hadn’t lost out on all those years.” My voice cracks, but at least I’ve got the tears under control. Barely.
“I guess—I guess there’s no point regretting all this, you know? This whole wild trip happened for a reason. And maybe the reason was for us to get over our childishness for once.”
“I didn’t make you out to be the sort of person who believes things happen for a reason.”
“Honestly, a lot has changed in the past year.”
I squash the tissue in my hand, tension building in my palm. I want to ask her if she’ll come see me in the US, wondering if she’ll ever tell me about FIT. But we’re finally on good terms, and I know this is just the start. It’ll be a slow buildup.
She will tell me. I know she will.
Overcome by the sudden surge of emotions, I lean forward and wrap my arms around Priti. She protests, “I’m not a hugger! No, no, Krishna,” and that only makes me laugh and hug her tighter, until I’m probably crushing and suffocating her.
When I pull away, she’s scowling at me, readjusting her hair. I snort. “There’s the Priti I’m familiar with.”
She opens her mouth to throw me a retort, but a knock on the door interrupts us, followed by Rudra’s voice. “Hey, are you girls done yet?”
“Almost!” Priti calls out, turning to me and mouthing,Such a gentleman, making us both burst into giggles again.
And right then, another broken part of me slowly starts to heal.
After we’ve had some minutes to get ourselves together and touch up our makeup, we step out fully dressed and ready. Rudra is waiting for us on the couch, playing something mutedly on his guitar.
He sets it aside and gets to his feet when we walk out, his eyes widening. He’s coincidentally wearing all black like us—black tee, black leather jacket, and baggy black jeans, a silver chain looped around his neck and his hair down and waving around his face. His feet are snug in black loafers and there are oxidized rings on his fingers, one even shaped like a guitar. Now,thatoutfit? Definitely branded and expensive. Stuff that’s bought in three-floored luxury stores in air-conditioned malls.
It’s the sexiest I’ve ever seen him look, and that’s saying something.
“Look at us all, matching in black,” Priti comments, walking over to him and ruffling his hair. “Society would be a hundred percent more evolved if everyone wore black all the time. It shows.”
“Okay, but could you stop messing with my hair?”
Priti feigns a hurt look. “Can’t even show my bestie some affectionthese days without being rudely rejected.”
