When he finally shuffled off, she stepped up and placed her regular order, an Americano. No fuss, no frills. She stepped to the delivery side to wait for it. She needed the caffeine fix desperately. She leaned on her suitcase, allowing her tired body a brief respite. The server placed her drink in front of her, and she grabbed for it gratefully.
She grabbed the handle of her suitcase and turned only to crash into a hard object. The steaming hot coffee went flying and the hard object yelled, “FUCK!”
Shock kept her immobilized as she stared at the dark splotch on the t-shirt in front of her. By some miracle, not one drop of coffee had fallen on her. She raised her eyes, up and up and up, until she met angry black ones.
“I-I-I’m sorry,” she stammered.
His dismissive gaze raked over her as he reached over her head for some napkins and dabbed ineffectually at himself.
He was gorgeous, she thought dazedly. All brooding, stormy good looks, the kind that stopped your heart in its tracks while waking up other parts of your body. Over one shoulder, he had one of those extra-large backpacks that hikers and fitness crazy people travelled with. He was tall, so tall, she had to crane her neck to look at him. And boy, did she look. He was verylookable, she thought, her brilliant mind fumbling for a word that described him and finding none.
“I didn’t see you there.” Mortification rushed through her as she saw coffee drip off the ends of his t-shirt and on to his worn, weathered shoes.
He gave her a withering look but didn’t acknowledge this statement either. At least not verbally. His anger and disdain were screaming through his body language. He yanked out more tissues before turning and stalking off. The server called out to him to take his order, but he ignored her like he’d ignored Vedika’s attempts to apologise and kept walking.
She tried to help the staff clean up but they brushed her aside with a smile. Vedika grabbed her suitcase and slunk off, abandoning all hopes of a caffeine fix dispelling her fatigue.
Her phone pinged as she walked through the tunnel of stores and restaurants. Her mind, as always, ran through the humiliating encounter a million times, showing her all the things she could have done differently to avoid it. She groaned as she remembered those angry, beautiful eyes boring into her.
She spotted her gate at the far end of the terminal and sank into an empty chair with a grateful sigh. She pulled out her phone and texted the family group to let them know she was at the gate.
Her father’s reply pinged through a second later.
Pa: Good job on the Banlay deal, sweetheart.
Vik: Yes, good job, sweetheart.
Ma: Vik, if you don’t stop tormenting your sister, I will shave your head while you sleep.
Vedika laughed, a quiet sound as she read through the messages flying back and forth. She loved the calm and steady, but her family was anything but that…and still, she loved them beyond all reason. Loved them but never quite fit in with them.
Her firebrand of a mother was the kind of woman she’d hoped to be, she thought wistfully, but instead she was this weird concoction of insecurities and fears.
Pa: The car will be waiting for you at the airport, Vedu. Look for Angad Chacha.
Before she could type out a reply thanking him, a message from Ashish pinged through. Oh no! She’d forgotten all about his brother! In the middle of her coffee fiasco, she’d completely lost sight of the fact that she was supposed to be finding her soon to be brother-in-law in this terminal and spending a little time with him. She tapped open the photograph that Ashish had sent her and waited impatiently for it to load. God, she missed wi-fi. The mobile connectivity sucked!
She glanced around her, looking for anyone who might look like Ashish, but she couldn’t spot his doppelganger or even a faintly-resembling-him stranger.
And then the picture finally loaded and she found herself staring into familiar, angry, dark eyes.
Uh oh!
CHAPTER 2
DAKSH
Fuck!Fuck! Fuck!
Daksh Mathur rummaged through his backpack searching for a clean t-shirt. All he managed was a rumpled, somewhat gamey smelling black one. He sniffed it once before shrugging into it. It had to be better than dripping with coffee.
This was all he needed. To roll up to his family home looking like the homeless, vagrant son. Which was essentially what he was, he supposed. At least, it’s what they expected him to be.
He rinsed off the best he could at the sink and changed out his soaked shoes and socks for sandals. Irritated and out of sorts, he grabbed his bag and left the washroom nodding to the man who shouldered past him with an irritable grunt. His phone pinged. A message from his brother. He ignored it. The family could wait.
Daksh slid his sunglasses on and scanned the eating spots for somewhere he could grab a decent cup of coffee. He wasn’t walking back towards that fucking Starbucks now. When he finally spotted a south Indian eating joint, he sank into the only empty table left and ordered a cup of filter coffee.
He took a deep breath trying to will the tightness in his chest away. But it didn’t work. Nothing ever worked. Going home, facing his father, dealing with all that bullshit…It always made it hard to take a breath. Maybe he should swap out his coffee for a beer. Then he could arrive in dirty clothes and smelling of alcohol.
