Tara glanced at her reflection one last time, smoothing out the soft fabric of her top. It was casual, but not too casual-effortlessly put together, just enough to make it seem like she hadn't put any effort in at all.

Which, of course, was a complete lie. She had gone through at least four outfit changes before Kashish had threatened to physically drag her out of the room.

The final choice was simple but striking-a fitted black satin top with delicate lace-trimmed straps that rested gently against her shoulders, adding a subtle touch of elegance.

She paired it with high-waisted, light-wash jeans that hugged her figure perfectly, the kind that made her legs look longer than they were.

Strappy black heels completed the look, adding just the right amount of height, and a dainty gold necklace rested against her collarbone, catching the light with every movement.

Her hair fell in effortless waves, a last-minute decision after debating between an updo and letting it flow naturally.

A hint of highlighter dusted across her cheekbones gave her a soft glow, and the swipe of nude lipstick tied everything together-polished, yet natural.

It was the kind of look that said, I just threw this on when, in reality, she had absolutely not.

"Relax, T. It's not a real date," Kashish said, leaning against the doorframe with an exasperated look. "It's a casual night out with two very unserious men."

Kashish was the kind of effortlessly stylish person who could throw on anything and still look like she had walked straight out of a magazine cover. Tonight was no different.

She had opted for a sleek black corset top that hugged her figure perfectly, accentuating her curves without trying too hard.

Paired with high-waisted, straight-leg jeans that gave her just the right mix of casual and dangerously confident, she looked like she belonged on the cover of a fashion editorial rather than heading out on a "non-date."

Her makeup was just enough to turn heads-warm brown eyeshadow that made her deep-set eyes even more striking, sharp winged liner that could cut, and that deep red lipstick she had so dramatically debated over.

It added an extra layer of boldness, like she knew exactly what she was doing and exactly how to make an impression.

Her long, dark brown hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders, looking almost effortlessly styled-but Tara knew better. Kashish never did effortless when it came to looking good. She did strategic.

Gold hoop earrings peeked from beneath her hair, simple but effective, and a delicate chain rested just below her collarbones, drawing attention to the confident tilt of her chin.

She carried herself like someone who owned any room she stepped into, the type of woman who didn't ask for attention-she simply received it.

Tara, watching her best friend in the mirror, shook her head. "You say it's not a date, but you look like you're about to break hearts."

Kashish smirked, adjusting one of her rings. "I like to keep my options open."

Tara snorted. "Poor Ishan."

Kashish only laughed, looping her arm through Tara's as they made their way to the door. "Oh, I really hope he's stupid enough to try something tonight."

Tara sighed dramatically. "God help him."

Shubman had been his usual annoying, teasing self all day-texting her random polls about what to eat, whether she preferred window or aisle seats, and if she'd ever considered dyeing her hair pink.

But there had also been moments that felt... different. Slightly softer. Like when he had sent her a message just before she left her room.

Shubman
Don't be late, Miss Arora. I don't like waiting.

Tara
Dramatic much? We both know I'll be ready before you.

Shubman
That's cute. You actually believe that.

Tara huffed, locking her phone and tucking it into her bag.

By the time she and Kashish made their way downstairs, Ishan and Shubman were already waiting outside.

Shubman leaned against the car with an ease that was both casual and unfairly attractive. His crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, clung just enough to hint at the toned physique underneath.

The first few buttons were left undone, revealing the faintest glimpse of his collarbone, and his dark jeans sat perfectly on his frame-effortless, like he hadn't even tried. But Tara knew better.

The soft glow of the streetlights cast a golden hue over his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jawline, the curve of his lips as he smirked at something Ishan said.

His hair was slightly tousled, as if he had run his fingers through it one too many times, and Tara hated how annoyingly good he looked.

Ishan, on the other hand, was pure chaos. He stood beside Shubman, hands moving animatedly as he spoke, his grin wide and full of mischief.

Dressed in a fitted navy-blue Henley and ripped jeans, he exuded an effortless charm that made it impossible not to be entertained by him.

His curls were slightly messy, like he hadn't even bothered to tame them, and there was a playful glint in his eyes-one that only intensified when Kashish rolled her eyes at whatever nonsense he was spewing.

He leaned toward her slightly, clearly enjoying her reactions, and if Tara didn't know any better, she'd say Kashish was this close to smacking him.

Shubman, catching Tara's lingering stare, tilted his head ever so slightly, his smirk deepening. "Take a picture, Miss Arora. It'll last longer."

Tara exhaled sharply, rolling her eyes. This was going to be a long night.

₊‧.°.⋆✮⋆.°.‧₊

They piled into the car, Ishan claiming the driver's seat with a cocky grin while Kashish slid in beside him, already engaged in a heated argument over the right playlist for the ride.

That left Tara and Shubman in the back-something she tried very hard not to overanalyze.

She settled into her seat, determined to maintain a respectable amount of space between them. But, of course, Shubman had other plans.

The moment the car rolled forward, he casually stretched an arm along the back of the seat, his fingers just barely grazing her shoulder. The touch was light-barely there-but it sent a sharp awareness through her spine.

Tara turned her head slowly, giving him a pointed look. "Really?"

Shubman, the absolute menace that he was, didn't even try to hide his smirk. "What?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Do you have to take up this much space?"

His smirk deepened. "You're the one who chose to sit next to me."

"Oh, so now it's my fault?"

Shubman leaned in slightly, his voice dropping just enough for only her to hear. "I mean... if you wanted to be close, Tara, you could've just said so."

Tara scoffed, shooting him a glare. "Right. Because nothing screams romance like being crammed in the backseat of a car while Ishan and Kashish argue over music."

As if on cue, Ishan groaned from the front. "For the last time, Arijit Singh is perfect for every mood, Kashish."

Kashish rolled her eyes. "Not when we're supposed to be having fun. This is why you have the emotional range of a teaspoon."

"Excuse me?" Ishan sputtered, dramatically clutching his chest. "I am emotions. I embody romance."

Kashish snorted. "You embody chaos."

While they bickered, Tara attempted to inch further from Shubman-only for him to take advantage of the movement and lazily let his arm drop just enough so his fingers brushed against her shoulder more deliberately this time.

She stiffened. He so did that on purpose.

Tara turned back to him, eyes narrowed. "You're unbelievable."

Shubman gave her an easy grin, all innocence. "Why? Am I making you nervous?"

"No," she said flatly, folding her arms. "Just incredibly annoyed."

"Hmm." He tilted his head, as if weighing the truth of her words. "That's funny. Because I swear, for a second there, you looked flustered."

Tara refused to take the bait. "You swear wrong."

Shubman chuckled, tapping a finger against his chin. "So if I do this-" his fingers lightly trailed down the curve of her shoulder, slow and teasing-"you won't react?"

Her entire body went rigid.

The audacity of this man.

Tara inhaled sharply, willing herself to act unaffected. With all the casual energy she could muster, she turned toward him, met his gaze head-on, and smirked.

"You know, Gill, for someone who keeps acting like I'm the one losing composure, you sure are putting in a lot of effort."

Shubman blinked, caught off guard.

Tara used his brief moment of surprise to her advantage, leaning in just enough so he was the one who had to resist reacting. "Careful now," she whispered, voice teasing. "Wouldn't want to make things weird, would we?"

His smirk wavered ever so slightly.

Victory.

Tara turned away, smug, pretending to be invested in the scenery outside the window.

Shubman exhaled, shaking his head with a small laugh. "Damn. Maybe I am in trouble."

Tara smirked to herself.

Yes, Gill. You absolutely are.

₊‧.°.⋆✮⋆.°.‧₊

The restaurant had settled into a comfortable hum of soft music and quiet conversations. Plates had been cleared, drinks refreshed, and their laughter had softened into something warmer, more intimate-like they had unknowingly slipped into their own world, separate from the rest of the buzzing tables around them.

Tara shifted slightly in her seat, fingers absently swirling the straw in her drink, but her mind was elsewhere.

Or more accurately, on him.

She felt him before she even looked. Not in the obvious way-how he was sitting next to her in the booth, his presence solid and warm-but in the small ways.

The lazy stretch of his arm along the back of the seat, fingers just close enough that if she leaned back even slightly, they'd graze her shoulder. The occasional brush of his knee against hers under the table. The weight of his gaze, lingering, waiting.

Tara hated that she was hyper-aware of it. Of him.

She kept her eyes locked on the table, determined to act like nothing was happening. Like her pulse hadn't picked up the second his leg shifted again, this time pressing against hers-just barely, just enough to make her breath hitch.

"You're being awfully quiet, Arora."

Tara exhaled sharply, turning to find Shubman watching her, amusement flickering in his dark eyes.

"Just enjoying the silence before Ishan starts another monologue about food," she muttered, keeping her tone casual.

"Hey!" Ishan objected from across the table. "Food is a serious topic."

"It is not a personality trait," Kashish deadpanned, earning a snort from Tara.

The conversation picked up again, Kashish and Ishan diving into yet another dramatic debate, but Tara barely registered their words.

Because Shubman moved.

It was subtle-so subtle she almost thought she imagined it.

His hand, resting on his thigh, shifted just slightly. The backs of his fingers ghosted against her knee under the table.

A barely-there touch.

A question. A test.

Tara's breath faltered for half a second. Did he mean to do that?

She could feel the warmth of his skin even through the fabric of her jeans, the casual yet calculated way his fingers barely curled-like he was waiting.

Waiting for her to move away.

Or lean in.

Tara should've shifted, should've pulled her leg back-should've done something.

But she didn't.

Instead, she let herself stay still. Just for a moment.

The air between them changed-thickened. A slow burn, an unspoken challenge.

Tara swallowed, forcing herself to reach for her drink like nothing was happening, like her entire body wasn't suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that Shubman Gill's hand was resting right there-on her thigh now, featherlight but undeniably present.

He didn't push, didn't tease, didn't smirk like he was winning some silent battle.

No, he just waited.

Like he was letting her decide.

Tara exhaled shakily, fingers tightening around her glass.

She should move.

She should absolutely move.

But she didn't.

And neither did he.
Tara exhaled slowly, willing her pulse to slow as Shubman's hand remained warm and steady on her thigh. It wasn't fair-how effortlessly he did this, how he could set her entire body on fire with just a touch. And the worst part? He knew exactly what he was doing.

She wasn't about to let him win.

With deliberate slowness, she turned to face him, her expression calm despite the storm raging inside her. If he wanted to play this game, fine.

She leaned in slightly, just enough that he'd have to focus on her-on the way her lips curled, on the way her voice dropped just a little lower, softer, more dangerous.

"You must be really comfortable," she murmured, her eyes flickering down to where his hand still rested. "Seeing as you've made yourself at home."

Shubman didn't flinch. Didn't pull away. If anything, his grip tightened, just slightly, like a silent challenge. "What can I say? It's a nice place to be."

Tara hummed, tilting her head in mock consideration. "Mm. I don't recall inviting you."

Shubman's smirk widened, and god, she wanted to wipe it off his face. "You didn't stop me either."

Her fingers drummed against the table, contemplating her next move. Two could play at this. If he wanted to push boundaries, she could, too.

Without breaking eye contact, she shifted slightly-just a tiny movement, barely noticeable. But it was enough. Enough for his hand to press more firmly against her thigh. Enough for him to notice.

His breath hitched-so quiet, so subtle, but she caught it.

Victory.

Tara smiled, slow and satisfied, and leaned back like she hadn't just turned the tables on him. "Enjoy your stay, Gill."

Shubman let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he picked up his drink. "You're dangerous, Arora."

"And you're slow," she quipped, arching a brow.

Shubman was about to reply-probably with something cocky, something that would make her want to shove him and kiss him at the same time-but then Ishan groaned dramatically, drawing their attention.

"If you two are done with whatever that was, can we actually eat? Some of us don't get handsy under the table to pass the time."

Kashish snorted, flipping a fry at Ishan. "You're just mad you're not part of the fun."

Tara barely resisted the urge to bury her face in her hands. But Shubman? He just stretched, finally removing his hand from her thigh-but not before giving it one last squeeze, like a parting gift.

"You're blushing," he whispered, just for her.

Tara picked up her fork and stabbed at her food with a little more force than necessary. "Eat your damn dinner, Gill."

But she didn't deny it. And the way Shubman looked at her-like he'd won-told her he knew that, too.