Amaal glared at him. “Did you take me out to eat carbs just because you have to keep a watch on me?”
“Watch out for you,” he corrected.
“Yes, the same.”
“Are your cramps better?”
“Yes…” she began to search for her hot water bag. It had fallen off to the floor, now cooled. She bent to grab it.
“Samar?”
“Hmm?”
“Why do you have a hot water bag?”
“I have it.”
“Do you have the entire medical store in your bag?”
“Hmm.”
“Pads too?” She threw in.
“No. Do you want to get some?”
Amaal gaped, speechless.
“How do I rattle you, Samar?”
He did not respond, as was expected. The car turned into the compound of the KDP Headquarters and he parked outside the building entryway. Amaal opened the door, stepped one foot out, then turned to him.
“Thank you, you were good company today,” she said. “And I don’t mean it in a sarcastic way.”
“Hmm.”
She smiled. He didn’t.
Amaal hoisted her purse straps over her shoulder, picked up his hot water bag and got out. As she walked up and into the atrium, she felt the zipper of her purse pinching into her skin. When she went to close it, she found it half open, the ice cream money that he had slid into his pocket now in her purse.
She whirled. His car was long gone. Amaal stared into the black distance. What was she getting herself into?
11. It was a big day…
It was a big day. The big result day. Amaal had never seen the atrium of the KDP headquarters so full. Every member, volunteer, and leader who had been a part of this election had gathered in a space that had otherwise seemed massive but now felt small. She wasn’t complaining, though. The crowd at the headquarters on result day was her big win, because then she would get great photos and videos, plus live reactions. Her iPhone was awesome for recording but pathetic at storage. So she had learntjugaadfrom the people around her and kept her laptop on standby to empty the storage every hour.
“You know how to transfer it to iTunes now?” She confirmed with Suchi, her best intern. She had missed Fahad throughout her six months here, but the group she had started had felt like the beginning of a whole new team. She had promised some of them that she would initiate a conversation with Atharva about bringing them into the Media Team.
“Yes, yes,” the young second-year BTech rolled her eyes, messing around on the laptop. Amaal walked around the set up, the tent pitched to provide cooling shade in this October heat. A white screen had been erected in the centre, an old projector relaying the TV channel. How the guys had managed it was beyond her but she would find out for future use.
She turned to check if her iPhone was charged when she collided with a hard chest. Samar.
“Where have you been?!” Amaal held her hands out. “Did you talk to Atharva?”
“Yes.” He stepped back, and she got a good look at him. White T-shirt and black formal pants, not camouflage for a change. Amaal opened her mouth to comment on the mix of casual and formal, but on second glance, it looked… good. It would have to do.
“We are not touching 38.” He spoke to her in a low voice.
“How do you know?” She craned her neck. “Now what? Fuck… All our Panna Pramukh tallies matched, we were getting 40 out of 75!”
