Shreyas Iyer

Tara was sound asleep on her chair, a line of drool down her lips. My own lips curved upward at the site, she'd insisted that she'd stay in the hospital for the night. She could pretend all she want, but deep down in that cold twisted heart, she cared about me.

Sheikh sighed, handing me my coffee and placing a cold coffee (custom order, I knew what she liked) near Tara. "Careful," I warned, "She'll knock it over."

"How do you know?" Sheikh asked, sensing a story. I laughed, "She's kicked me in her sleep before."

Sheikh's shoulders shook, for a split second I thought he was crying till he burst into peals of laughter. Tara startled awake, and slapped the coffee into the air. Sheikh's eyes widened and everything fell into slow motion as the coffee splashed down onto Sheikh's white shirt.

"What-?" Tara's brown eyes drooped with sleep, then widened at the stain. "Shit, I am so sorry."

"It's fine, I'll go home and get another shirt." He hurried to comfort her, and I watched amused. "Just borrow one of my shirts, Sheikh." I chuckled, and Tara snorted. "You wear neon stuff."

"So?" I raised an eyebrow, challenging her. She took a long look at me before shaking her head and looking away. "Nothing."

"They look good on you but they won't be flattering for Sheikh." She mumbled a few moments later, and my brain latched to the words 'they look good on you'. Sheikh scoffed, "Thank you for your vote of self confidence."

"Talking about clothes, we'll have to do something for you, Shreyas." Tara sighed, "Your arm needs to be in a cast for a while." 

I laughed softly, placing my hand on top of hers. "I'm fine, relax."

"How will you dress yourself, feed yourself-" She started listing a list of things I'm not capable of at the moment.

"You'll help me, nah?" I flashed her a grin, she fell silent before sighing. "I get to spend my time, babysitting a duffer."

The blush on her cheeks said otherwise though.

"But Tara, what are you going to do? Your company is dying slowly because of the Chopra's. 

Tara shrugged, "I'm going to sell it."

what?

***

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