I hummed slightly at my battered ipod as I pushed the cracked 'down' button on the elevator.

"Fuck it Pooja! Get back here bitch!" My big sister raged from the doorway that hung off its hinges. Her eyes blazed at me, bright black, from her furious tear stained face. Mascara streaked her cheeks and her nose was red a raw from crying. I ignored her drunken shouts, as she wobbled in her baggy pink cocktail dress and stilettos. The ones she always wore when a boyfriend dumped her. Which was often.

Anika was all I had left after mom died, and mom hadn't been much cop either. Though my chest still ached when I remembered back when it was me, Anika and mom together - having fun. Until she got on drugs and Anika grew out of her wonderful innocence to realize the world was a bitch.

She started to storm towards me down the peeling corridor, across ragged carpet and I bit my lip, eyeing the lift angrily. When Anika hit me, it hurt like fucking hell – why couldn't the elevator hurry up?!

"POOJA!" She screamed in fury as the doors cranked open, "GET THE FUCK BACK HERE SKANK!" I slipped inside and slapped the 'close' button. The doors slammed shut, muffling her enraged screaming and I sighed in relief. Then tried not to scream in surprise as I noticed a boy staring at me in bewilderment.

I gritted my teeth, pissed that someone saw that little outburst. Besides, no one my age lived in the run down piece of crap this building was. So, what the hell was he doing here? I mean, no one who doesn't have to come to this place does. It's the slum of the slums of Mumbai. You don't come here without a reason, like buying drugs, selling them or prostitution.

Get what I mean?

I eyed him slightly; he would most likely be here for the third option. Well, with his looks he must be. Tall, tan, muscular, incredible hazel eyes, dark, dark brown hair that flopped around his eyes and gave him the look of glaring out at the world mysteriously from under that straight mop. He was staring right at me.

I frowned in confusion, he looked slightly familiar, but I shrugged it off and lost myself in the music.

I watched the lights on the dirty buttons as the elevator grated itself down through the building. I tapped my foot – then noticing, I quickly tucked a long trail of my hair back inside my black hoodie. Shit. So that's what he had been staring at.

You see, don't freak, I'm....well, I'm ......

Yeah, pasty white skin, black hair and hazel eyes. I tell you, it scares the shit out of most people. So, I pretend to be emo, wear black all the time and hide my face.

Sure, jerks get a kick out of that too, but I don't care – at least this way no one can see my abnormal-ness.

Suddenly the lift shakes and I yelp in shock – trying to grab my balance while on one foot.

The juddering stops with a rapid jerk and I crash to the floor, that boy somehow on top of me. I know this lift is small and all, but really? Thanks gravity!

I groan and sit up, eyes widening when I see my long black hair spilled out across the floor beside me. My eyes immediately shoot to his shocked hazel ones.

Oh jeez, he really is...well, holy crappers. Gorgeous. I seriously cannot find an imperfection. And trust me; I should be able to - since his face is like inches from my own.

Just, let me have my fan girl moment.

He gawps as well, though probably not for the same reason as me.

"Had a good long stare have you?" I snap, my cheeks coloring - his beautiful eyes blink and then he turns the same shade as me. Wow. Weird.

The boy climbs off me, un-entangling his strong limbs from my own slim ones. I flip my hood back up in annoyance and to hide my blush, when I realize,

"Wait, the lift's not moving."

He snorts, "Nice observational skills."

I flick my hood back down and cross my arms, glaring at him, "Really? You're going to act like a child in this kind of situation?"

He avoids my gaze and looks kinda frustrated. I almost smirk, oh yeah; it ain't so bad when I can make cocky jerks back-track.

I glance around slightly, I mean, I should've expected something like this considering what a dump I live in.

I sigh, "Do you have a phone?"

He pats his pockets then looks at me, cocking an eyebrow, "Wait, you don't?"

I don't even squirm at his insinuation that I'm poor, 'cause I am.

"Have you seen this building!? I live here. It ain't exactly to Ritz, Sherlock."

He looks frustrated again and pulls something shockingly similar to a blackberry from his leather jacket. I lean back a bit, looking at him kinda funny – what the crap?!

I open my mouth to ask, then shake my head and shut it. He holds the phone up, frowning at it.

I groan and slump to the floor, "Lemme guess, no service? Fucking peachy."

He glares at me and sinks down opposite, "Hey, I didn't exactly ask for this either genius!"

I roll my eyes, "Whatever, we're stuck here for who knows how long, without food or water, it's gonna get real hot in here soon and I'm trapped with a toddler for company."

He growls but I ignore him. A marvelous thing I found about my condition – I no longer care about other people opinions. I got over that, ages ago.

He yawns and rubs his eye, leaning his head back against the wall.

"Tired?" I ask, just trying to make conversation. He scoffs in a morbidly amused kinda way,

"You have no idea."

I frown, he sounds sort of...bitter. I turn to face him, staring at him with my hazel eyes,

"Try me."

He gawps slightly, and then grins. I swallow hard, son of a bitch – that's just not fair! Totally against the rules...stinking god-face...

"You really wanna know?" He crosses his legs and leans forward, his hands steepled in front of him in an almost Mr. Burns kinda way.

I nod and copy his posture, "Duh, or else why would I ask?"

We're almost eye to eye and he beams, hooooly crap.

"Okay, I'll spill all."

I nod, "Secret sharing time."

He smiles, but this time it's different. His lips press together and his eyes light up, sort of warm. I swear I nearly assaulted him right there. But, I restrained myself from having a sinister rapist girl moment.

"Would you believe me if I told you I have a sadistic demon of a manager constantly at me like a vulture with a dead body. A schedule about as thick as my Aunt Greta's ass, a massive tour scheduled ahead and millions and billions of crazy, stalkerish, fucked-up fan girls constantly attacking me and screaming."

I pause for a second - then point at him with my steepled fingers,

"That much shit can wear on a person."

He stares at me - then bursts out laughing, literally, shitting himself laughing. I sit up, indignant,

"What?!"

He doesn't answer, just sags back against the wall, his cheeks red and tears in his eyes – cackling like anything. I glare at him, arms crossed until he calms down, still chuckling. I lean back, pouting against the wall and pick at my thumbnail,

"But seriously, you almost made it sound like you're famous."

I see him freeze out of my peripheral vision as I attack a piece of nail, frowning in concentration.

"DO YOU SERIOUSLY LIVE UNDER A ROCK?!"

He suddenly yells, making me jump about a foot in the air - my finger slipping, its nail cutting the skin below my thumbnail,

I grip my hand, "Bastard! What the fuck?!" I stare at the deep cut on my finger, muttering, 'ow, ow, ow, ow, ow'.

He grabs it and inches closer, staring at the gash in concern. I'm curled up against the wall because he inched closer; his skinny jean-ed leg is on my left side, his dock martin-ed foot resting against the wall. His other leg's bent in front of him with his hair almost tickling my nose. I blush bright red, damned bloody virginal reaction...

I can smell him, like leather and almost cinnamon, some kind of mans deodorant/perfume/fancy shit. It smells good; I bite my lip and watch his eyes through his hair. He turns my hand over – his fingers warm against mine.

I sigh slightly, my breath ruffling his long fringe, human contact. It feels weird when it's not violence though. Does it normally make your heart race, your chest feel warm and your body tingle?...Duh, obviously not.

I look away, staring intently at the wall, my blush slowly fading.

He lets go,

"It's not too deep, should be fine – just suck on it or something."

I obediently put my thumb in my mouth like a little child, then spin to face him angrily,

", what was that you were saying abut me living under a rock?!"

He snorts, covering his mouth. I don't bother to feel embarrassed - just glare at him.

"You really don't know who I am, huh?"

I shake my head absent mindedly and wipe my thumb gently on my hoodie, then put it in my pocket,

"No, why should I?' I wince as I settle my thumb, intent on my hand.

"Because I'm Kabir Mittal."

I look up at him and smile; he looks slightly relieved until my next words,

"Nice to meet you Kabir, I'm Pooja." I hold my good hand out, smiling, he's still gaping.

I sigh and roll my eyes, "You know it's etiquette to shake hands. Otherwise I feel like a tool."

He shakes my hand, still staring, tilting his head a little in what seems to be disbelief. I smile at him, "That's better."

He scoffs and let's go, "You really are something."

I smirk at him, cocking an eyebrow, "Why thank-you!"

He...Kabir laughs, "That wasn't a compliment."

I pout and glare at him, "Well I'm going to take it as one."

"You do that."

"I will."

His eyes met mine in amusement, "You really are different from other girls you know?"

I scoff and point to my features, grinning sarcastically, "No kidding."

He leans forwards, excited, "No I mean, different."

I roll my eyes, "Your point being?"

He shifts slightly forwards, "I mean - most girls would be ecstatic to be trapped in and elevator with me. It's a nice change of pace to be honest."

"Well, I have a life." I mumble, watching his slightly pained face, "...if you hate being famous so much, why do you do it?"

He stares at me then grins again, "See there it is! You're asking me questions no one asks me!"

I growl and lean forwards, trapping him with my gaze, "You're avoiding my question."

He sighs and his lips firm into a hard line, "I don't hate it. Being a household name is cool and all...it just gets freaking tiring. I don't have a life; it's consumed by interviews, concerts and recording sessions. Plus being chased by insane fans isn't too much fun, especially when they manage to take out your body guards..."

He winces slightly as if remembering something and looks slightly sheepish. I feel my mouth twitch slightly then burst out laughing,

"DID THEY SERIOUSLY DO THAT?!"

He nods and smiles shyly at me, I snort,

"That has got to suck. But it must have its perks, the things that make up your reasons for going into the business in the first place..." My voice is curious and he stares at me softly, almost...awe.

Then Kabir nods, his voice tender, "Yeah," he grins at me, "There was this one time, a little boy was ill in this hospital I was staying at when I got my arm broken - I visited him everyday. He was really funny and bright, but terminal. He told me it was great to see his idol before he died..." Kabirs face goes soft; his eyes hazy, like he's seeing that boy again and I smile.

"See, you have reasons, just try to think of them more often instead of the negative stuff."

He nods slightly and we sit in silence for a while; it really does start to get hot. I pull the hair up off my neck, twisting it in a bun and tying it with my earphones, stuffing my ipod in my pocket. He pulls off his leather jacket, revealing a v-necked white tee – damn, I shoulda known he'd have abs and pecks like a Greek Adonis.

I sigh and copy him, pulling my hoodie over my head and lean back – momentarily relieved in my scarlet spaghetti-strap singlet. I catch him staring and smirk,

"See something you like?"

He glares at me and blushes, maybe it's the heat.

I relax back, my forearm resting on my stomach, it's boiling. I really don't know how long it's been – feels like hours.

"You know..." I pant slightly, "If you really are some famous tat, shouldn't there be people looking for you?"

He snorts and turns to look at me, sweat making his shirt cling to his chest, whoa.

"Yeah, but do you really think they'll look for me in this dump, stuck in an elevator with a laundry girl?"

I laugh, a cold hard sound, "Guess not..."

He frowns at me slightly, a drop of sweat running down his temple, his hair sticking wetly to his forehead "I didn't mean to insult you or anything."

I smile at him gently, sadly, and say softly - a voice I hardly ever use, "'S'okay, I'm used to it..."

His frown deepens, "Is that what that thing was with that woman?"

I freeze, shit; he did not just bring that up. I glare at him then...suddenly laugh,

"You know, I'll probably never see you again so I guess its okay."

Oh...I...really wont see him after this...

I feel something tighten in my chest and take a deep breath – ignoring the pain. I am not falling for him. Don't be stupid...heart, I am warning you...RIGHT NOW! Oh fuck it, I'm head over heels.

I shake my head at myself frowning, I'm such an idiot.

"My mom...she, well, she died a while ago after a drug overdose, leaving me and my sister Anika...Anika became pretty...unstable, I guess."

I pull up the front of my shirt, showing him an ugly yellowing bruise on my stomach, and smile sadly at him, "See?...It was a wine bottle."

He stares at me, something horridly unreadable in his face, and then crawls forwards. I inch backwards slightly, pressing myself against the hard wall. His face stares intently at my bruise and he places a hand on it, I jump then make a funny little sound,

"Mmnn..." I quickly cover my mouth in embarrassment, cheeks red. But it feels really good, his warmth, the pleasure of his hand touching me. It can't just be the heat in this small box giving me perverted hallucinations. He strokes the bruise gently with his thumb, making me wince and gasp. His eyes shoot to me and stare into my hazel irises.

"Wh-what the hell are you doing?" I mumble - his face too close to mine for comfort.

"What I want to." He demands like a child and his hand slips gently off my bruise around my back and draws circles on the pale skin with his forefinger. I shiver and he places a kiss on my neck. I jolt and my cheeks blush,

"Qu-quit it!"

"Nope." He mumbles against my skin, his hot breath washing over my throat. I grip the fabric of his shirt on his shoulders as his warm lips caress my neck - an involuntary gasp makes its way up my throat. It feels wonderful; I lean into the warmth and pull myself tighter to him. He lets out a funny sound and suddenly his mouth is on mine, there's nothing gentle about his kiss. It's hungry and hot, making my head swirl. He pushes me up so I'm sitting fully against the wall, his lips never leaving mine, arms holding my body tight against his. His mouth urges mine open and his taste clouds my mind like a drug, sending me high on euphoria. I feel my legs go slightly weak, glad that I'm sitting down. I run my fingers through his hair, entwining them at the back and pushing his mouth harder against mine. He makes a funny sort of moan sound - that does insane things to my body.

His tongue touches mine and I almost go crazy, my heart pounding, my chest aching – it's like someone set fireworks off in my head. He tilts his head, his hand cupping my neck gently as he slowly calms the kiss. Then suddenly he wrenches himself backwards, leaving me sitting there dumbfounded and more than a little bit embarrassed. The back of his hand's on his mouth and his cheeks are red. There's a bit of a shocked pause, then,

"Umm, I've kissed a few girls in my time..." I get the feeling that's a slight understatement, "but, that was...wow." He mumbles into his hand.

I blush, "Yeah, I guess you could say that."

He leans forwards a bit, "C-can I just do it again? I want to find something out..."

I frown but nod slightly, already craving his touch. God, I'm practically going into withdrawal.

He inches closer and puts a hand on either side on my waist where I sit, leaning forwards and gently touching his lips to mine. I respond and he kisses me sweetly, leaving the most delicious warmth coursing through my body. His lips are tender and one hand leaning on the floor takes mine, entwining our fingers to sit on my lap. I feel...safe. Warm. Loved, even. Something I hadn't felt in a long time.

He pulls back again and I lean after him a little, wanting more.

He clears his throat, "Well, that works too..." He blushes again and I suddenly realize that flushing is as foreign to him as it is to me.

I smile evilly, you know, I could have fun with this. I inch forwards so he's the one backed up against the wall,

'Wh-what are you doing?" He mumbles and I beam,

"Returning the favor."

I catch his lips with mine and just go on instinct, one hand cupping his chin I tilt his head back, kneeling in front of him. It feels strange to be the one controlling the kiss but his arms find their way around my waist, pulling it tight to his strong chest. One of his hands entangles itself in my hair, letting it fall down around my waist in curls again. I deepen the kiss this time and he lets out an involuntary moan, I smile against his lips and let him start to control. He pins me beneath him and growls,

"God, woman you're killing me here."

I smirk at him, about to snap a sharp retort but he silences me with a kiss, dragging me into the delicious haziness again. Somehow bringing me back to life under his kisses. I don't know why, but when he kisses me, it's like, I feel different. There's no more emptiness or dull ache. He fills it with something special that makes me want to cry in joy. It's pure and complicated, I can't seem to explain it – but whatever it is clouds my sense of judgment and warms me from the inside out.

My hand slips under the back of his wet shirt and pulls his body down fully on mine, my other hand running itself through his thick, longish hair. He shivers and eases my mouth open eagerly,

"Kabir..." I mumble...or well, moan, I guess. Que flush.

That's when he seems to loose it. His kisses become wild and thrilling, I gasp as he lets me up for air, then he's kissing me again. An electric shock rips through me as his tongue brushes mine and I ease my knee between his legs.

Then he's gone. On the other side of the elevator, face bright red, curled up. I sit up and frown, then my eyes widen and I blush. Sliding backwards and pulling on my hoodie, realizing what the hell we were just about to do.

I was going to have sex with a stranger in a lift. I bury my head in my knees in embarrassment and horror,

It's boiling, but well, I don't dare look at him without my hoodie. I'm so sure I disgust him that I want to cry, I disgust myself. I feel like one of the whores that patrols this place, I've only known the guy a few hours for gods' sake!

We sit like this for ages; I can almost hear the clock ticking by. My throat feels dry, my mouth empty – and not just because I need food and water. I need Kabir. I need his mouth on mine again, it's so obvious. He's become my drug or something.

I press my face harder into my jeans, ignoring the sweat dripping from every pore of my body – the fabric sticking to my form. My stomach and chest ache, my head feels dull. What the hell's happened to me?

Suddenly the lift begins to move and my head shoots up in surprise. Our eyes lock on each other, then we both look away. I get to my feet and bush myself down, picking up my earphones and pocketing them - trying to ignore the pain in my chest. So foreign, but so dangerous.

We stand facing the doors, as awkward as anything. I sigh and close my eyes. A small broken voice, my own, I realize, speaks quietly,

"What? Was I just physical gratification for you? Yeah, who would want a pathetic laundry girl?"

He stares at me, then the doors open, thank-god, and I shoot out so fast my hood falls down.

I cover my eyes with my hand, photographers and news teams of all kinds stare at us. Me.

Of course.

One woman in a tight pink sweater recovers fastest,

"What was it like spending nearly a whole day in an elevator with the Kabir Mittal?!"

I stare, eyebrow cocked patronizingly at these idiots, my hands in both pockets,

"I'm sorry, what? He's that famous? For what, being an ass? It was horrible." I spit and barge through them, shocked as they are.

"POOJA! WAIT! LET ME EXPLAIN!" He yells desperately, I begin to run and charge out the scummy revolving doors into the grey street. It's raining and I almost laugh, perfect.

I pull up my hood and sprint through the puddles, past pedestrians and cars.

I sit dully at the kitchen table, luckily Anika decided to spend the night at her new beaus. Somehow, since that day a few weeks ago, the heaviness in my chest hasn't lightened. I just keep seeing flashes of our time spent in that damned elevator. I can't go near it anymore, I take the stairs.

I stand up and rinse my bowl, snorting at the screen as yet another news show raves about the mystery girl – who Kabir is apparently obsessed with. The one he spent a day in a lift with. What a joke.

There's a picture of me, clear as day, but no one recognizes it as me - because of my hood. They yak on and on about my 'extravagant beauty', unusual as it is. 'Exotic', they say. I roll my eyes and stop in my wiping, examining the picture on the screen of me fully. I'm out the doors, in the rain; it was snapped by a lagging photographer. It's in perfect definition, my hood's halfway up and I'm caught just as my head turns in his direction. My light pink lips are slightly parted, eyes searching. It'd be a pretty arty piece...and I guess I don't look half bad. My long curly black hair is blown slightly in the wind of a passing truck, my pink eyes, light on the inside and slowly darkening to the outside. They're wet slightly, like I might cry and feline shaped. My oval face and wide cheekbones are as pale as a sheaf of paper.

I shake my head and go back to wiping my dishes.

College was a drag, of course, and I lug my feet as I head to the gates. Suddenly I hear girlish screaming and my head whips up, thinking someone's being kidnapped.

Oh come on. No way. I'm hallucinating.

Kabir Mittal.

My heart thumps, chest tightens and breathing spikes, those symptoms of withdrawal coming back in full force. Is he here for...?

I shake my head and snort, then keep walking; he must be here for a different reason. He looks as godly as usual, his hair now slightly messy. He's wearing converse and baggy jeans, some graphic tee. After all the hype that's been going on lately - and since I now magically tune in whenever I hear his name - I know he's a singer. A damn stinking good one at that. His voice is incredible, though he hides it well.

"POOJA!" I hear him yell and make a break for the gate to run past him. He gets there first, arms spread wide so I can't get past him. It's either face those strong biceps or his rabid fan pack...that's a toughie...

"Let me explain!" He stares at me, imploring with those ridiculously gorgeous hazel eyes.

"No!" I snap, "Now move it Kabir."

"Why?!" He glares at me; I sigh and put my hands on my hips,

"Don't act like a child!"

He grins at me, something so heartbreakingly beautiful I think a fan girl faints somewhere to my right.

"That's just like what you said first time we met!"

"We didn't meet, we got trapped. NOW MOVE!" I demand, pointing violently to the left. Shit, people are whispering...figuring it out. I can tell by the gasps. Fuck dammit Kabir!

"Pooja, just listen to me!"

"ABOUT WHAT?!" I fling my hands in the air and he glares at me.

"Fine." He growls and throws me over his shoulder; I gape in shock, my hood hanging over my face so I can't see.

"WHAT THE HELL KABIR!? PUT ME THE FUCK DOWN!"

I push my hood back and twist my torso round to glare at him, not giving a shit anymore who sees. I feel a couple of phone flashes as my classmates snap photos, I swear violently at them.

He's striding down the street now, a couple of bodyguards in tow,

"Oi, big man! Don't you see this is abduction?! Do you have any compassion?!"

Kabir gawks and I slap him over the head, trying badly to ignore the stares, squeals and gasps from random people on the streets.

"What are your names?" I ask, eyebrows raised, smiling at them. They look kinda surprised and uncertain, but respond duly,

"Jay." Big white guy says, "Vijay." Big black guy says. I grin at them,

"I'm Pooja."

They nod and say in sync, which is kinda creepy, "We know."

I frown, "Huh?"

"You're all he talks about. When he's not eating ice-ream and watching romantic movies in sweatpants." Vijay's lips twitch this time and I can tell Kabir's pouting,

"You weren't supposed to tell her that dude!" he grumbles, shooting a look at Vijay.

I frown in confusion, "What the hell are you talking abo-HEY!" I yelp as I get chucked rather unceremoniously into a black limo. LIMO. Recognize the importance of this moment in my life.

The door gets slammed in my face and Kabir slips in beside me, I stare at him in annoyance,

"Kabir, what the crap are you doing?" I'm trying the calm but exasperated angle; it has zero, if any, effect.

He grins at me,

"Guess!" He's practically jumping up at down in his seat, I roll my eyes,

"You know, you're kinda contradicting your rock star image right there." I cross my arms, trying to remember why I was mad at him. Used me for body (never though I'd say that...EV-ER). Check. Back on track.

Suddenly he leans across me, a hand on either side of my waist, his face inches from mine,

"Is it working?" His voice is husky, his breath on my lips. I can feel his eyes boring into mine as they flicker between my red irises. My hands are up in almost protective balls in front of my chest and eyes wide. I flush and try to glare at him, though my body is screaming at me to do other things. Like throwing my arms around his neck and practically bursting into tears, then kissing him, then slapping him and kissing him again. God, how can one boy cause such devastation?!

"N-no!" I deny, my voice quavering. He smirks, dammit.

I place my hands on his chest and shove hard.

"I HATE YOU! YOU USED ME! IT'S SO EMBARRASSING!" I yell, almost in tears because I know it's true and I so don't want it to be. Except the hate part, I could never hate him. The limo stops; I didn't even know it was moving.

He stares at me, devoid of emotion. I swallow hard and suddenly he grabs my wrist, yanking me hard out the car.

"We'll be fine, thanks guys." He almost growls at Vijay and Jay, I want to open my mouth and deny that – I mean, he's a rock star. But confusion stops me.

"Umm," I mumble as he tows me inside, "Why are we at my building?"

He ignores my, very valid mind you, question and stabs the button on the elevator. The doors ding open immediately and he shoves me inside, avoiding my gaze and stomping in himself. Kabir presses the button for the roof and the doors creak closed,

"Uhh, Kabir?" I ask nervously, he slams me against the wall, glaring. I feel the fear in my face,

"Kabir you're scaring me!" I yelp, tears in my eyes, his face softens and he pulls back, taking my hand in his and facing the doors. I hold his hand and stare at his head uncertainly.

"Kabir..." I ask quietly, my voice slightly trembling, "What are we doing here...?" My voice is barely a whisper; I don't want him to get angry again. He winces slightly, understanding my fear and mumbles.

"There's just something I want to talk to you about..." His grip on my hand tightens slightly and I step closer behind him, just as the doors open on the roof.

I stare in surprise, my mouth dropping open a little.

"This is where I was; I came up here to see the sunset before we got caught in that elevator on the way down." He mumbles, looking warily at me.

"Wow!" I grin in delight and pull him out the lift behind me, running to the railings. I swing round to him and beam, framed by the glorious sunset across the city,

"Isn't it beautiful?!"

He smiles slightly, "Yeah, it is..."

I blush, getting the feeling he's not really talking about the orangey-shimmering glowing sky. He looks kinda sad and I feel my smile falter,

"Kabir?" I step forwards slightly and he puts his arms around me. Holding me gently but firmly against him. I blink then smile, resting my head on his chest and winding my arms around his waist. I feel safe again, like nothing can touch me. His hands play slightly with my hair and he mumbles into the top of my head – like a child that's afraid of getting told off,

"You...don't really hate me do you?"

"That's what you were worried about?!"

"Well...yeah."

"I don't hate you."

"Then why'd you say you did?!"

"...'cause I was angry...I didn't think you'd mind this much."

"DIDN'T THINK I'D MIND?!" He yelps and holds me at arms-length by my shoulders, he looks horrified and shocked. I bite my lip in confusion, blush and shrug,

"Well...you know, aren't I just your..." I clear my throat delicately, "Toy?"

He hangs his head, still holding me by the shoulders; I notice a small dragon tattoo on his neck. His eyes shoot up to meet mine, making me jump, damn his gorgeous hazel eyes...

"Pooja." I nod slightly, biting my lip, "Pooja, you are so stupid! Why the hell would you just be my 'toy'?! Did you really think that I wouldn't mind!? What possessed you to think that I wouldn't care about the fact that the girl I've fallen for, hates me?!"

I stare at him, my chin dangling, "Wh-what was that last part..."

He pauses, then his eyes widen and his cheeks turn bright red, "Fuck..." he mutters; avoiding my eyes in a show of, now trust me on this one, adorable schoolboy shyness.

I giggle, and then burst out laughing. He cringes,

"Jeez, if you're gonna be a bitch about it-"

I snort and throw my arms around him, "DUMBASS!"

"WHAT?!" He yelps, arms limp by his sides.

"Do you know how fucking miserable I've been the past few weeks?! And when you finally choose to come see me, thank god, you say something as stupid as that an-and..." I'm in tears by the end, sniffing, great droplets pouring down my cheeks, "You fucking 'tard..." I sob and he laughs, pulling me out of the hug so he can look at my tear stained and hiccupping face. I sniff as another tear rolls down my cheek and look up at him.

Kabirs face is soft now, his hazel eyes warm. His lips are together in that beautiful smile from before, the one that melts his eyes. His irises, ringed in black followed by dark brown - then dissolve through the shades to light green and flecked with gold. So beautiful I could stare at them forever. My hand's are on the back of his neck, his arms wrapped around me – our noses touching as the sun and city horizon touch. Perfect Kodak moment.

He wipes my cheeks and lightly pecks me on the lips, making me blush again. He leans his forehead against mine – beaming.

We stand like that for a while, there's no breeze, everything's frozen – like time really just stopped. I feel so wonderful and at peace in that instant. His arms around me, his face close to mine, his body heat, his everything.

"Kabir I think I-"

"Pooja I-"

We both stop and I bite my lip, "You go first."

He nods slightly, "Pooja...I think I am...or maybe I will...well what I mean is..." He makes a sound of frustration with his throat and pouts slightly. I try not to laugh, then he takes a deep breath, ", I...I think I'm in....love–with–you." The words rush out and he slams his eyes shut, grimacing - his cheeks bright red.

I grin,

"Me too...I think. I don't know, its confus-"

He places a small kiss on my lips, nothing dramatic, but it's perfect. He pulls back slightly, I nod,

"Yeah, now I'm sure. I love you too Kabir!" I smile sheepishly at him, "I don't know how it happened, I mean, you're childish, violent, famous, confusing," I tick them off on my fingers incredulously,

"Yeah!" He cuts me off, glaring and pouting at the same time, "And you're too fiesty for your own good, frustrating, swear like a sailor, nag constantly and drive me crazy!"

We glare at each other for a second then burst out laughing, he tugs me closer, and his lips brush mine as he talks,

"Well, at least we know each others flaws..."

I smile back, "Definitely, I just don't want this to go to fast. We could screw it up."

His eyes go all wide and innocent-like, pssh, "Whaaat? So proposing to you now would make you run for the hills?"

I gape at him, cheeks bright red and he smirks at me. I glare,

"DON'T JOKE ABOUT STUFF LIKE THAT, ASSHOLE!"

I whack him over the head and he yelps, grinning.

Kabir pulls my lips to his, my body flush against his strong form. I still can't really believe this beautiful creature is mine. I smile as he kisses me and wind my hands around his neck. He pulls back and runs a thumb along my cheek,

"You have beautiful eyes." His voice is a murmur and his face so soft, a small smile on his lips, that I could die happy. I blush and kiss him again, feeling as beautiful as he seems to think I am. He pulls back, then gives me a quick peck, beaming again, and nips my earlobe. I jump and squeak, my cheeks luminous.

Then he bounds up to the railings, flings his arms wide and declares loudly enough to make people look up,

"I, KABIR MITTAL, AM IN LOVE WITH POOJA SHARMA!" Its echoes around, and he turns back to me in the setting sun, his hair being drifted by the wind,

"How's that for a proposal?"

I glare at him and cross my arms, but I can tell he knows I'm delighted. Smug prick.

"I don't know whether to think it's creepy or flattering that you know my last name." I sniff and he laughs, jumping down and running over to me. Kabir sweeps me up in a hug and I grin, hugging him back.

"The rest, they say, is history!" the reporter in front of me beams at Kabir and I. I nod nervously back at her dramatization and he tugs me closer beside him – arm round my waist casually.

It's not history, its four months later, I think scathingly in my head, but am too chicken to say on live television.

We're at some kind of movie premiere; I'm in a dark red spaghetti strap dress. Kabir loved it and practically bounced around, because it offset my eyes wonderfully. Stupid two year old.

My long hair is curling down my back, a few thin plaits at the front pulled back and bobby pinned. The whole effect looks pretty cool and in the limo Kabir voiced loudly the ways he was gonna rip off the dress tonight. I slapped him, blushing obviously,

Still love him though, crap.

"So, how have you two been going since?" The perky babe in front asks, obviously staring at me. I swallow slightly, still not used to going out in public without my hoodie.

"GREAT!" Kabir cries a big grin on his face, shocking the reporter who all but drops her microphone. He doesn't smile often apparently, what bullshit. I laugh,

"Sorry, he had a lot of happy pills this morning."

He glares at me playfully and I stick my tongue out at him in return. He pouts and grumbles, crossing his arms,

"Has to embarrass me in public..."

I snort, "You're embarrassing yourself."

He flinches, "Aw crap."

The reporter all but has an orgasm right there at the adorableness of this new side of Kabir. I mean, this is our first public interview.

Even the cameraman is shocked, I have to say, feel slightly proud that I can influence this side of him.

I beam, my teeth biting my bottom lip slightly, trying not to laugh, "Well, we're doing fine anyway."

I egg the reporter on to continue with her questions and she snaps out of it,

"R-right, right...umm, so, will the public ever know what really went down in that elevator?"

We look at each other then back to the reporter, grinning,

"No way! It's our secret!"