Apeksha's pov

My knuckles clench and then unclench. Pulling away the pen I was chewing on, which I didn't even realise until now, my face contoured in grimace. Staying focused on anything when he is around doesn't lie in my strong forte.

So I give up, slam my notebook shut and the laptop follows suit. I'm a bag of nerves, evident from my fiddling fingers and wobbly legs when I pick myself up from the sitting stool and sneak to his side.

Sneaking into his room to get the tutoring sessions never made me so conscious and hyper aware until my feelings began to surge and I was hyperventilating after I finally put a name to my feelings. Over the time, I've managed to stifle the thoughts yet it lingers anyhow.

Avoiding making any sound and keeping my clumsy ass diligent, my knees lower softly on the ground by his side. My gaze grabs the opportunity to ensnare the sight of him, so calm and serene, an embodiment of homely aura as a person, a safe abode, to treasure the memory to cling on for the future I'm dreading.

What is in him that makes my heart so obstinate to continue loving him overlooking the undeniable heartbreak ?

Falling in love with him wasn't in my hands, but continuing loving was a choice and not at the same time. Like the untamed winds or the unruly clouds. Present to be felt, to be acknowledged though never in the control of our reigns.

I like the way he cares for me, treats me, makes me feel capable of achieving anything I desire and awakens the sense of worth. And if at some point he stops, if I woke up to a day where he treats me as nothing more than his dead butler's daughter even then I will still find myself in love with him.

He isn't obligated to do all these and despite not being a girl who will beg a man to treat her in a certain way, my love isn't obligatory for a certain reason. He treats me well and my heart flutters. But my flutters even at the thought of him. It flutters more with a small glimpse of him. And it's always all set to explode whenever bestowed with the vicinity of his presence. Because that's how much ensnared I'm under his spell- a spell so unbinding and ineffaceable.

Seemingly having a brain of their own, my hand reaches out in his direction as my fingers bask in the softness of the tendrils gracing his forehead.

Touching him even if it's innocent, feels wrong since I've got no right. And in broad daylight when he would be awake, that would even strip me of the courage to do so. Might as well destroy everything, even if it's inevitable, right away.

My action freezes, a chill wrecking throughout when his eyes open suddenly, golden skies meet the rooted soils.

Ohh mother earth, just swallow me. Please!

Controlled by pseudo force, my palm slapped across his forehead making him jolt and he let out a loud painful groan followed by a scream of my own. Slapping a hand across my mouth at the blunder, my feet shuffled a step back in urgency while I shook my head haphazardly.

"A mosquito_ it was a mosqui- aah!" my voice upsurge in a shriek, ankle twisting while gravity calls for me. Albeit my body was hauled back to clash with a stout fabric clad tree trunk. Damn my dead brain cells!

The proximity almost made my heartbeat skyrocket, the heat seeping off his body evoking tingles on their wake. "Little swan," was his voice really hoarse or was my inner bitch being desperate ?

Peering through the fluttering lashes, my gaze craned up to his visage and the intensity of his aureate eyes pinned me down, inducing me mesmerised under the allure of those unfathomable golden skies.

With a firm grip on my shoulders, I was abruptly detached from his juxtaposition, the impetus move leaving my mind stumped. It was an insignificant thought but it felt as if my proximity burned him, icked him to the pores.

Loud music and hooting buzzed from downstairs laying out the right distraction from the moment and to avoid facing him and witnessing the repulsed expressions myself. It's natural to react that way providing he has given refuge to someone else in his heart for seven long years, however isn't enough to wheedle my naive heart.

My feet veered to the open window that overlooked the poolside. A bunch of men and women, apparently in their mid twenties, clad in their designer fit were howling between the booze and grooving to the thumping music.

"Is she there ?"

My head tilts over my shoulder but I keep my eyes fixed on the sight below and nod. The sigh reverberating through him was loud and clear. He strided closer, his height towering at my back, and curbing the reaction my body almost gave out was harder even with the adequate distance between us.

"How does she look ?"

Lonely, depressed and striving to find an escape even if temporary.

My eyes remained stuck at the svelte figure at the far corner of the poolside, draped in a formal bodycon. Vamika Somani always had a keen knack in the jewellery business that her family runs and was an optimist in life. However the bereavement of her long-term boyfriend vanquished her optimism in shreds.

Another sigh leaves his mouth and I try not to think how it tickles at my neck dip. "The feeling that I've failed as a brother incessantly gnaws at me. She has shut me off and I don't know how to get back to her without making her misinterpret anything."

The hurt in his voice felt so heavy on my chest that I wanted to hold his hands or turn around and pull him into a very much needed hug. But I do nothing of these.

"It will get better soon." I speak softly and then add a playful jest, "She intimidates me in her work clothes. Looks like the female version of all brooding billionaires I read about."

A giggle escapes my mouth amalgamating with the rich vibration of his chuckle.

After a while, he gently closed the windows with one last lingering glance at his sister. Subsequently we settled for watching a movie, sitting beside each other against the headrest with a pillow in between, which I deliberately put in.

Thankfully the water mostly splashed on the mattress and after giving it a quick analysis, he gave me a green signal. And the relief I felt after that, whoosh! No way my pocket was ready to carry the loss of that expensive laptop.

Holding back a sob, I pulled another tissue from the tissue box he had held in my direction and wiped another streak of tears that trickled down.

"What is the logic of watching the same movie for the hundredth time and still crying over it ?"

Tossing the rolled tissue in the nearby trash can, my squint eye darted at him. "It is Aashiqui 2," my tone was defensive. "And how can you not cry or even sympathize ? He died."

More tears rolled down my eyes, because I was still very much shaken by heart or by my brain too, or because his face grimmed deadpan- I don't know.

The main lead took his life so he doesn't end up spiralling the girl he loved in the path of his self destruction due to his alcohol addiction, and here this man beside me didn't even flinch.

"Aai should have named me Arohi instead of Apeksha." My head whips in another direction as I blow my nose. God! I'm such an ugly crier. I don't know how he has been putting up with me all these times. "I would have had my own Rahul Jaykar then."

His fingers snapped at my face, snapping me out of the dreamy stance. "You're hopeless. Thank heavens your name is not Arohi."

"Why ?" I whined, shooting him with a glare.

"Because Apeksha Kamath isn't made for him." His proclamation silenced me instantly and our eyes collide again.

There's moments like these when I don't know why I get this feeling that this man is a puzzle, fabricated with threads which I haven't gotten familiar with yet.

With a clearing of throat, he continued, his voice lacking the prior conviction, "Anyway that man chose death over his girl. So be wise with your choices."

"Ohh please! He did that for her."

His scoff was louder than mine, "Even you know the truth."

"Stop right now." I declared, "This won't end as a debate rather you're waging a war."

His mouth opened, although his brain cells bestowed him with enlightenment that he chose not to argue further. And a grin spread out on my lips at the victory. Well done Apeksha!

The room filled with silence then did I realise that no longer the music was blaring outside, indicating that the party had finally worn off.

"I don't understand why you keep subscribing to the OTTs even when you don't use it."

I got down from the bed and began gathering whatever stuff I had brought with myself in my backpack.

"I mean I do sometimes." My eyebrows arch in suspicion. His dexterous fingers itch on his stubble in a way as if contemplating and spare me God for finding that frivolous act sexy.

I'm cooked.

"Anyway I trust you enough to utilise my spent money rightfully."

Brawling about this topic anymore wasn't going to turn out any fruitful, it never did before either, so I decided to let it go.

"Do you think clubbing is fun ?"

His neck craned down before I could even ask him to and I placed my hands on his forehead, avoiding any eye contact, and sighed out in relief at the normal warmth under my palm.

"You want to try ?"

Biting on my lower lip, I meekly nod my head. "I never did before so I would love to."

"No drinking." He enunciates.

Surprised, my gaze flickers to him and a knowing look swarms through his eyes. He had once promised me to allow me to try drinking, a rooted desire of my curious self to discover what's in it that has people so addicted, on my twenty-first birthday. Perhaps I'm a lightweight drinker considering it had taken only two or three shots to get me hammered, and with no memory of my drunk hooliganism, the other morning I woke up.

I grin, giving a thumbs up, "No drinking."

~

~

~

And damn the no drinking pact because my body was practically buzzing with every thump of music, the thrilling rush, the feeling of being unchained, my existence manumit.

Drinking wasn't intentional and I wasn't conspiring for any rebel but my luck pulls me to trouble like a long lost lover. Misinterpreting between cocktail and mocktail has landed me into this state where my entire world is gyrating.

Afreen being the sweetheart and with her mother's expertise tips, had decked me in knee length A-line skirt with lantern sleeved top, paired with heeled boots. Geet beheld to grace my face with her make-up skills and straightened my curly hairs before leaving the ends in waves.

I look like everything which my mother considers, might I quote 'demeaning for a girl of a respectable household'. For now I shove that voice in some far corner of my subconscious.

I wouldn't put it past them to call this a date. Afterall you can't call them friends unless they make your casual hangout sound like a date, which I've always dreamed of, but I know better than to call it a date.

Buzzed on booze, people swayed at the loud beats and I let my body loose, swinging back and forth with an unknown group of college going girls.

Beknownst to the unfaltering stare of the man, my supposed accomplice for the night, my date as my friends called him which he doesn't have to know, stood by the bar counter. He had retreated when I found this girl's group after telling me this isn't his type of fun. Whereas I had rolled my eyes and had shrieked 'budhe ho rahe hain aap'.

(You're aging.)

His sinewy arm supports my body from swaying without a beat, if not for them then I might have fallen face to the ground while we make our way out.

"I'm floating." Gesticulating, my voice goes to crescendo meanwhile the strong grip keeps me in place, and I pout for being held back.

These heels were killing me, so I held on his shoulder, titled my body , lifted my foot and got out of them while his gaze lingered to watch me do the same to the other one.

"Fuck these heels," I moaned in pain, giving a gentle massage to my sore feet. My head spun, my clutch turning firmer on him whereas he helped me from swinging. "This alcohol is fucking with my head," my voice slurrs. "Perhaps I want to get fucked."

A loud cough wrecked past his throat and gravity almost got me before his hold tightened back on me and this time I was swung in his arms. A soft gasp flies past my lips upon being backed abruptly against a nearby car, my hazy gaze finding his face covered with a mask, to evade paparazzi hullabaloo, and those aureate eyes of his__ haaye!

"Stand straight," a shiver tingled straight to my core at the commanding voice, and suddenly I was feeling hot.

For some reason his eyes kept me pinned as he stepped out of his shoes and I gulped through my parched throat when he knelt.

"Step in."

Like the dumbest person alive, my brows cock in confusion, "Huhh ?"

"Step in the shoes, little swan." The dropped octaves of his husky voice skyrocketed my heartbeats.

Dexterous fingers swaddled around my bare ankle making my knees buckle, my breath knocking out of my lungs as his eyes denied to move anywhere but me. I stood immobile, lost in his eyes not realising when he managed to put me in his shoes. And as he raised back to his height, momentarily our faces were parallel, too close, and I must be over reading as I felt him lingering there a second longer.

Tears brim in my eyes, I love this man so much and the realisation stabs straight to my guts that these are the last few months I would get by his side.

Anxiety crawled at my chest and my breath came out in heavy pants. He was instantly rubbing my arms, his face contoured in worry.

"Little swan," he calls out, tone replete with concern. "Are you alright ? What's wrong ?"

My head was a plethora of thousands of possibilities, my senses doused with the effect of alcohol that made it hard to form any coherent response. I didn't even realise the words I blurted out next, "Let's be friends with benefits."

Signing off

~T.R