• ADVIKA •

FIVE HOURS LATER…

Ved Singh, the most relatable character of You Belong With Me, was found at the car parking, waiting for us. The moment he saw us, he broke into squeals and jumped on Ishaan in the name of hugging.

“Bro! You made it, finally! Thank you so much!” He squealed as if a five-year-old had got its favourite toy after searching for hours.

“Okay, just leave me, asshole. I'm tired as fuck,” Ishaan grunted and pushed Ved down, allowing Ved to look at two other people who accompanied him.

“Hi, Fior! How do you do?” He smiled at Fiorella and waved in a friendly way. After Fiorella mouthing an, “I'm fine,” Ved shifted his gaze to Advika Bansal the Alien of their universe.

“Ummm… This is…?” Ved tried his best to recognise me, but failed as it was the first time we met each other.

“Yeah! Let me introduce the special person of my life. Meet Advika, my…” Ishaan paused right there and looked at me, searching for words to introduce me to Ved. “She's my… Friend.”

“Oh,” Ved exclaimed and broke into a smile while greeting, “Hi, Advika. How do you do?”

“I'm fine, Ved. Thanks for asking. How about you?” I tried my best to smile, yet couldn't suppress the tingling sensation that was crawling up my chest from my stomach.

“Uh… Fiorella.” I dragged all of my senses back to reality the moment Ved called Fiorella. “Go to Room Number 306 and stay with my sister Vedika for the night. Ishaan and Advika, I have allotted Room Number 301. Apologies for allotting one room for both of you. Since Miss Bansal's visit was sudden, no room was available just for her.”

“Not an issue, man! We can manage.” Ishaan whispered with a reassuring smile and looked back at me with a straight expression. “Shall we go, Advika?”

“Yeah, sure. Good night, Ved,” I greeted Ved and followed Ishaan and Fiorella, my mind living in its delusional slump and making best plans for the night.

What do you think is the similarity between Twisted Hate, The Spanish Love Deception, The American Roommate Experiment, The Love Hypothesis, and The Hating Game?

One bed.

The “one bed” thing was the biggest dream for me ever since I watched Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge when I was fifteen. And, reading these books added oceans of petroleum to the fire of my desire named “one bed”.

No, I neither would take advantage of the situation and seduce Ishaan nor let him take advantage. Maybe, I would stay awake till he enters the deep sleep zone. Maybe, I would admire the way he opens his mouth during sleep. Maybe, I would dream of running my hands through his hair. Maybe, it would be a chance for us to strike up a good conversation. Maybe, I would have the jackpot chance of seeing him half-naked: shirtless and grey sweatpants (oh, you don't know about the iconic scene in You Belong With Me, right? That's the story for another day).

We entered the lift as Ved pressed the numbers 1 and 3 and the door closed. As the lift reached the first floor, the doors opened, allowing Ved to leave the lift.

“Good night, all! See you tomorrow at Haldi,” he exclaimed with a toothy smile and walked towards his room, leaving his guests inside the lift.

I wished that Fiorella's room was on the first floor or the second, so that I could do what couples from books and movies would do at a lift.

Just joking. I can't do such things for real.

We left the lift together as we reached the third floor, my mind preparing for the backup plan: one bed.

Fiorella stood at the entrance of our room, waiting for us to go inside.

“Good night, Fior,” Ishaan greeted while Fiorella accepted them with a bow and a smile, walking through the corridor of the floor, towards her room.

Ishaan closed the door and walked inside while I tip-toed to the inside, drenching myself in the premiere of my surprise.

I jumped like an orangutan and took a peek at the bed.

Err… Beds.

It wasn't one, but two.

Two beds.

Yet, I chose to care less about the biggest distress of that night as Ishaan asked, “Do you like this place?”

“Yeah. I love this place,” I replied while adding, “Fuck the hotel owner,” in my mind.

“Okay. Shall I wait outside?” He looked up and down at my white T-shirt and dark blue denim maxi skirt, suggesting whether I needed that room to change my clothes.

“Well, no issues, Ishaan. I'll change my clothes in the bathroom itself.”

“Okay, then let me sleep. Good night!”

“Good night, Ishaan,” I greeted and gazed at the king of my heart drifting off to sleep.

***

THE NEXT DAY…

“Advika, are you ready or—”

Ishaan paused midway while entering the room, noticing me in a sunshine yellow lehenga, embroidered in white threads, complimenting them with silver oxidized choker and jhumkas. A minimal makeup featuring my light pink lip gloss and face powder helped me add glam to my beglammed face.

His orbs sparkled like champagne under starlight as he strolled closer to me. Note to be noted, he looked hot as well in his sunshine yellow sherwani top (with those top two buttons open), white pants, and gelled hair. Who said that Ranveer Singh is a “heartthrob” (no offence, please)? See this guy for once. Everyone will die.

As we were inches away from each other, he sucked air and asked, “Don’t go outside. The photographers may assume that you're the bride.” God, help me stop these blushes! “And, people will pour water on you.”

“Why?” I frowned and mentally scratched my head at his statement.

Leaning closer to my ears, he whispered, “You look like a walking fire,” his hot breath grazing on my powdered cheek and provoking goosebumps and blushes.

God. Help me stop these. I will give you a lifetime settlement of one lakh flower garlands.

“Uh… Shall we go?”

Shit.

Utter shit am I.

Why the fuck didn't I flirt? He will assume that I have no interest in him.

Why, God! Just why!

Actually, wait. Why do I care about whether he thinks I have interest in him or not.

Looking down as if he was some outcast in a high school full of quarterbacks, jocks, and cheerleaders, he nodded a yes and strolled outside. Before I could step out, I felt like the corners of my eyes were dampening out of embarrassment, and I mouthed an, “Uh… Ishaan. I need to go to the restroom. I'll be back,” and closed the door as slowly as I could.

Lying down on his bed without giving a fuck about my hair that was slowly getting messy, I whined like a five-year-old losing his favourite toy and spoke nothing.

I whined and whined and whined until it was enough for me.

***

“Hi, Mehak,” I greeted the bride with a smile that can be found when Swifties see Taylor Swift's posters, trying not to behave like a fangirl in front of her. “How are you?”

“I'm fine, Advika. How do you do?” Mehak greeted back, her face glowing like a model in spite of not having looks as such.

I mean, I wasn't body-shaming her. In spite of her dusky skin, round brown eyes, and thin lips, she was living the life of a main character, from dawn to dusk.

And, in my universe, there are many girls who behave like greedy peasants while having looks to die for.

“I'm good, Mehak,” I replied while applying turmeric paste on her cheeks. “You look so beautiful.”

I mean it. In her mustard yellow lehenga that matched with her emerald necklace and jhumkas, she looked like THE bride. The photographers will definitely click pictures of her without any doubt. People will pour water on her if she walks.

Walking away from Mehak, I almost bumped into the cameraman who requested, “Ma'am, smile please.” As the familiarity in the voice hit my head, I looked with my eyes wide open and saw Ishaan there, adding, “I’m just curious whether you have cute dimples or not,” with a whisper.

Crossing my arms like an authoritative boss, I commanded, “Fine, then, take a picture of me with that cherry blossom tree,” and pointed at the nearest cherry blossom tree on the lawn, pouting a little.

Breaking into a smile, he nodded a yes and took me there. After allowing me to pose for the picture, he exclaimed, “Ready? One. Two.” There was a pause before he could say three while he looked a little away from the camera and said, “I love you.”

My heart became amnesiac, forgetting its function; then working like a workaholic, beating faster than the speed of lightning and sound combined together.

Click!

My heart returned to normalcy after hearing the sound, associated with Ishaan's “Look at your reaction. You look like Charlie Chaplin, girl!” And his laughter.

While soothing my senses with the sound of reality, I grabbed the camera from him and looked at myself a few seconds ago.

He was right. I looked like Charlie Chaplin without a moustache, walking stick, and coat suit.

And, that maddened me like Hell.

“What the fuck did you just say!” I groaned and turned on my Beast Mode, running towards the guy who had managed to run away from me. “You gotta see my other face, dammit!”

On the way of hunting my favourite animal, I grabbed a glass of wine from the bar table and stopped midway, warning, “Ishaan. You'd rather stop there, or else… I'll cover you in wine.”

His gaze shifted to the glass of wine I had and instead of pausing with a white face, he paused with a big grin.

“Not as easy as covering myself in you.”

How could eight simple and understandable words could make your face darker than the wine you were carrying in your hands?

Learn from Ishaan Ahuja.

I dropped the glass in effect of what he said, in turn making my feet pour more blood that were mixing in wine and helping me collapse down and howl like a wolf for help.

Ishaan, removing his playful grin, bent down and carried me in his arms as if I was his baby daughter.

My heart, just like how it did a few moments ago, forgot to beat only to beat back like a woodpecker knocking on a tree.

Ved, who noticed his friend in an unusual way, asked, “Is everything alright?” from afar.

“Yeah, dude! I can manage,” Ishaan yelled from his place and carried me with much patience and care. As we reached the lift, he whispered, “Are you okay?”

Unable to speak up after looking at the sweat beads dripping from his forehead that looked hot on him, I nodded a yes, sucking for air.

Ting!

The lift opened up for us, allowing him to enter the lift, and there was nobody else.

Oh. My. Fucking. God.

If that moment was a scene from a book or a movie, I would scream, “Kiss her,” at the male lead who wouldn't hear me anyway.

I could scream it. But that time, the male lead would hear me.

What if he got offended by it?
What if he kissed but I was uncomfortable with that?
What if Harsh jumps from the sky that moment?
What if the world came to a pause and God carried me back to my universe?
What if the lift's roof dangled down?

Ting!

We heard the sound and looked at the open lift: a sign for us to stop romancing through eyes and leave the esteemed lift.

He pointed my chin at his sherwani pocket, suggesting I give him the key card while I gave him the card already.

Opening the door, he ran to the bed at the utmost speed and landed me on it as if I was a handful of rose petals.

“Wait a minute,” he urged and rushed to the entrance, coming back with a transparent box with a red cross stuck on it.

Placing the box next to me, he rushed to the bathroom and placed a stool near the water tap. Running back to me, he carried me again, took me to the bathroom, and made me sit on the stool.

I lifted my lehenga skirt a little and let him run warm water on my foot for a while. A few seconds after warmness engulfed my soul with comfort, he turned off the tap and placed my leg on his thigh while ducking.

“Ouch!” I howled in pain as he removed the glass out of my foot with a tweezer.

“Can't you be more careful, Advika?” He shouted in an out-of-character tone that made me jerk a little. “So obsessed with playing around, huh? Now, see. You're the one affected. Please be cautious next time.”

Suppressing myself from blushing and smiling by pursing my lips, I nodded yes.

“Good. How do you feel now?” He looked at me while applying ointment on the bridge of my right foot.

“Much better,” I hissed and pursed my lips again. “Thank you.”

“No thanks between us,” he countered after clicking his tongue in refusal, for which I was forced to chuckle at realisation.

It wasn't “No thanks between friends.”
It was “No thanks between us.”

***

Ishaan, Ved, Mehak, the groomsmen, the bridesmaids, and I were at the lawn with an empty bottle.

Don't ask why. As if you don't know.

Ishaan spun the bottle in the third round, and just as I prayed for, it was myself and Ishaan.

“Truth or Dare?” I pointed my chin at him and asked.

“Truth,” he replied it as if he had the reply in the tip of her tongue.

“Okay,” I sang and without any thought on what to ask, I asked, “Why do your poems have fire as a poetic device?”

And, man! I never knew that a normal question like mine would receive abnormal reactions from people until that moment. Everyone except Ved looked at Ishaan as if I had revealed something big about him.

“Ishaan, do you write poems?” Amrita, one of the bridesmaids, asked Ishaan the question everyone seemed to ask.

Nodding his head, Ishaan massaged his temple and bent down, looking at me in a way that could wrench the conscience.

Maybe, I should have asked that in privacy. Damn, I know nothing. No wonder why my mom never sent me alone anywhere till I turned 18. Who would trust a dork head and send her alone?

“Well, it's okay if you don't want to answer. We can pass this round,” I added after assessing Ishaan's expression, only to earn a disgusted scowl from a particular woman.

“Are you serious or what?” She asked with that permanent scowl. “I'm sure you're an alien, right?”

Who would've tipped her off? Aadya Chatterjee?

“Uh… Who told you that I'm an alien? I… I look like a human, right? Are you drunk or what?” Since I didn't have Aarvi to defend me that time, I became my defendant.

“Okay, stop it, girls!” Mehak shouted and raised her hands, suggesting for the end. “Advika. Francesca. Keep quiet, both of you! Shall we play the game, for fuck's sake?”

Then that arrogant bitch's name was Francesca, was her surname Bridgerton?

No way. Bridgertons are good people.

Not like that bitch.

“Fine. I have no issues answering the question.” Ishaan raised his hands as a sign of surrendering. “Well… My poems associate fire as a poetic device, since fire is the sign of passion. And, passion was what was driving me for the specific period of eighteen months. Passion was the one word that defined me and a specific someone. So… I hope you got me.” Looking away from me, he added, “And, those who don't know it yet, yes, I write poems. Are there any issues with that?”

Everyone looked at him as if he said something obscene while he looked back at me with a straight face, which soon turned into a heart-warming smile, forcing me to smile at him as well.

“All okay?” He pronounced without making any sound, showing his thumbs up while I nodded a yes with an assuring smile. “Very good!” He nodded his head as if he was a Math professor who was done teaching Integration, which made me chuckle.

He, then, got off from his place, whispered something at Amit, one of the groomsmen, and sat next to me after Amit moved away.

“All okay, right?”

“Yeah, Ishaan. I am. You don't have to worry a lot. Also, I'm sorry.” I couldn't help but laugh at his protectiveness.

“You don't have to be sorry, Advika. You felt like asking, so you did. Fine. Let me just stay back here,” he pouted a little and moved closer to me, my cold body syncing perfectly to his warmth.

“No. Go back to your place.” I shook my head while he moved away a little. Before he could get more offended by overthinking, I added the original essence behind what I wanted to say. “Only then we would get more chances to play together.”

The creases around his nose straightened and developed into a smile that showcased his teeth and the crimson shades in his cheeks.

Oh. My. God.

He blushed! Like, did he just blush at me?

Though my Science teacher told me that there is almost 70% of oxygen in the atmosphere, even 0.1% of it refused to supply air for this girl suffering from extreme euphoria.

I think I am attracted to him.

And, what's worse?

I think he's attracted to me.

***

A FEW HOURS LATER…

It was that time of the day which shares its name with one of Taylor Swift's albums when everyone of us decided to dream with our eyes closed.

As I was about to leave towards the room, I saw someone's arms coiled around Ishaan's neck, looking at him the way I do all the time.

It was that fucking fart A.K.A. Francesca, maintaining almost zero centimetre of space between the king of my heart.

I tip-toed half an inch towards the couple and hid behind a cherry blossom tree, ensuring that I could hear them.

“Now that I gave you my number, you can call me anytime.” It was Francesca, whispering the “you can call me anytime” like a seductress flirting with a sugar daddy.

There was no reply from Ishaan, though. I peeked at them, only to see him nod a yes.

That wasn't the typical Ishaan.

The typical Ishaan would have replied with a line that could sweep any girl's heart. Fuck it, imagine how flirtatious he could be if he had impressed me.

Since there was no reply from him, I felt that he wasn't interested in it. Then, why was he standing there anyway?

“Move away, Ishaan!” I hissed from my place and chanted like I do when I watch movies or read books.

The couple, as if answering to my prayers like God, moved away while Francesca whispered, “Good night, hottie,” and pulled his collar towards her collar, only to land her disgusting lips on his marshmallow-level-soft cheeks.

Can someone tell me whether she is a washbasin? Because, I couldn't help but develop the urge to puke on her face.

Now, stop judging me. I'm not jealous of her and fear that they would become a couple. I knew that Ishaan wasn't interested in Francesca. But, let her fucking stay away from him.

I'm many Bollywood movies old to know that girls who flirt like Hell won't get the man. Call it what you want, but the Bollywood fangirl in me hopelessly believes that Francesca won't get Ishaan.

“Uh…” Ishaan looked down and continued, “Good night.”

Walking away from her, Ishaan stood centimetres past me and whispered, “You can no longer see people flirting here. Come with me,” and stormed inside the hotel.

God! He saw me without letting me know that he looked at me.

I followed him while mentally cheering at the fact that he wasn't interested in her.

Singing Wham!'s Last Christmas, I reached the room, only to see Ishaan facing his mobile with a frown and looking back at me.

“Hi! What is it?” I pointed my chin at his mobile and tried to lighten the mood with a smile.

“Advika.” I replied with a hum, suggesting a yes. “Did you run away from India?”

Only God and I knew that I didn't run away from India but somehow, magic happened.

“Huh?”

“I asked whether you ran away from your house or not. Did you inform anyone about the trip?” He pronounced each and every word like a kindergarten teacher. Before I could ask why, he revealed what was exactly going on. “Your friend Aarvi had sent me an email asking whether you're with me.”

***

Finally, Aarvi had contacted Advika! Do you think that Aarvi will understand everything?

Also, how was our power couple? And, that Francesca? Do you think that Advika's theory is right?

Stay tuned to know more!

P.S.: So glad to announce that I Did Something Bad qualified for ONC's Shortlist.