INAYAT

The next morning, I stood outside the college gates, shuffling nervously. True to his word, Abhishek's car pulled up at exactly 1:30. He rolled down the window, his sunglasses shielding most of his face but not his signature smirk.

"You're on time. Miraculous," he teased as I climbed into the passenger seat.

"Unlike someone who can't go a single sentence without being insufferable," I shot back, buckling my seatbelt.

"Insufferable or charming? Think carefully before answering."

"Delusional," I muttered under my breath, earning a laugh from him as the car roared to life.

As we hit the road, the tension in the air gradually eased, replaced by a banter that felt oddly natural. That was until Abhishek, as if remembering something terribly important, reached over to turn down the music.

"By the way, your haircut suits you," he said casually.

I blinked, startled by the unexpected compliment. "Thanks?"

"Though, you did look like a walking broom yesterday," he added, smirking.

And just like that, the fleeting moment of goodwill evaporated. "Excuse me?" I snapped, glaring at him. "At least I don't look like a peacock with that ridiculous hair of yours!"

"Peacock?!" he exclaimed, mock-offended. "This hair is worth more than your entire tuition. Have some respect."

"You know what? You should've let me walk yesterday. At least I wouldn't have to listen to this nonsense," I huffed, crossing my arms.

"Please," he retorted. "You'd have missed me within five minutes."

I opened my mouth to argue but shut it when he smirked again, clearly enjoying how easily he got under my skin. I hated that he wasn't entirely wrong.

When we arrived at the mall, Abhishek parked in the VIP section, because of course he did. As we stepped out of the car, he reached into the glove compartment and pulled out two masks, handing one to me.

"Here, wear this."

"What? Why?" I asked, confused.

"Because if people recognize me, we'll have a mob situation," he said, slipping on his own mask and adjusting it.

"You think that highly of yourself, huh?" I teased, even as he reluctantly put the mask on my face.

"Just wear it, Miss IIM," he shot back.

The mask's faint cologne scent threw me off completely, and I suddenly felt hyperaware of how close we were standing. My cheeks heated up under the fabric, and I froze.

"Hello? Earth to Inayat," Abhishek said, snapping his fingers in front of my face.

I startled, stepping back. "I wasn't zoning out!" I lied, walking ahead to cover up my embarrassment.

He laughed, falling into step beside me. "Sure, sure."

We entered a boutique so fancy I felt like I had stepped into a different dimension. The walls gleamed, chandeliers sparkled, and racks upon racks of designer clothes surrounded us. I hesitated, overwhelmed.

"Pick whatever you want," Abhishek said, as if this was an everyday activity.

"I'll just look around," I muttered, feeling awkward. I wandered over to a rack and ran my fingers along the fabric of a dress, marveling at its softness.

"Perfect," Abhishek said suddenly, calling over a saleswoman. "Get every dress she touches."

"What?" I spun around, horrified. "No! That's not necessary—"

"Too late," he interrupted. "It's happening."

The saleswoman nodded, clearly unfazed by his audacity, and began pulling dresses off the rack. I glared at him. "You're impossible."

"And you're indecisive. I'm just speeding things up."

I groaned but decided to focus on the clothes instead of him. After some time, I picked out a few dresses to try on. As I disappeared into the fitting room, I heard Abhishek call out, "Don't take too long, princess. I'm not a patient man."

I rolled my eyes, shutting the door behind me.

Once I had tried on the last dress—a stunning black one that fit like it was made for me—I hesitated. Should I call him to see it? Would that be weird? Swallowing my nerves, I stepped out of the fitting room.

"Abhishek," I called softly, walking toward him.

But just as I reached him, my foot caught on the hem of another dress. I stumbled forward, and before I could hit the floor, Abhishek lunged, catching me by the waist.

Our faces were inches apart. His dark eyes locked onto mine, and the world seemed to slow down. My heart raced as I felt his hand steadying me, his fingers warm against my skin.

"Careful," he said, his voice softer than I'd ever heard it.

I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could, the saleswoman appeared out of nowhere. "Sir—"

Abhishek immediately dropped me like I was on fire, and I landed unceremoniously on the floor with a thud.

"Seriously?!" I yelled, glaring up at him as he awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck.

"Sorry," he muttered, clearly trying not to laugh.

I groaned, scrambling to my feet while the saleswoman looked between us, confused. "I'll get back to the fitting room," I muttered, thoroughly embarrassed.

As we left the boutique with far more bags than I intended to have, Abhishek glanced over at me. "You know, for someone so graceful in arguments, you're incredibly clumsy in real life."

"Shut up," I snapped, but I couldn't help the small smile tugging at my lips.

He chuckled, throwing an arm casually over my shoulder. "Relax. You're not that bad to hang out with, broomstick."

"Neither are you...peacock."

For the first time, the teasing didn't sting. In fact, it felt kind of nice.

As the car rolled to a stop in front of my house, I unbuckled my seatbelt and turned to Abhishek. "Thanks for the ride...and the shopping spree," I said, still slightly overwhelmed by everything that had happened today.

"No problem. Just don't trip over your own feet again," he teased, flashing his infuriatingly charming smirk.

I huffed, grabbing the bags from the backseat. Before I could say anything else, the front door burst open, and Ishaan, came sprinting out. His eyes lit up when he saw me, but the moment they landed on Abhishek, they widened to the size of saucers.

"No way," Ishaan breathed, skidding to a halt. He blinked rapidly, like he couldn't believe what he was seeing. "You're...you're Abhishek Sharma!"

Abhishek stepped out of the car, casually leaning against the door. "In the flesh," he said, grinning.

Ishaan stood frozen for a moment before practically launching himself forward. "Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God! I can't believe this! You're my idol! I've watched every match of yours!"

"Every match, huh?" Abhishek said, crouching slightly to be at Ishaan's eye level. "That means you've seen the one where I got out for a duck, right?"

"Uh...w-well, yeah," Ishaan stammered, his cheeks turning pink. "But that wasn't your fault! It was a bad pitch!"

Abhishek laughed, ruffling Ishaan's hair. "Good save, kid. What's your name?"

"Ishaan," my brother said proudly, still bouncing on the balls of his feet. "I play cricket too! I'm an all-rounder, just like you!"

"An all-rounder, huh? That's impressive," Abhishek said, genuinely seeming interested. "What's your best score so far?"

"118 not out!" Ishaan exclaimed, puffing out his chest.

"No way! That's incredible," Abhishek said, holding up his hand for a high-five. Ishaan slapped it with all the enthusiasm of a kid meeting his hero for the first time.

I stood by the side, watching the interaction with a strange warmth spreading through my chest. Abhishek, the same guy who could drive me insane with his arrogance and teasing, was now crouched in front of my 15-year-old brother, listening to him like he was the most important person in the world.

Ishaan, usually a ball of energy, looked like he might combust from excitement as he launched into a detailed play-by-play of his last match. And Abhishek? He didn't look bored for a second. He nodded along, asked questions, and even gave Ishaan a few tips on his bowling technique.

"So," Abhishek said after a while, standing up, "I'll have to see you play sometime. Maybe you'll be on the Indian team in a few years, and I'll get to say I met you before you became famous."

Ishaan's face lit up like a Christmas tree. "You really think so?"

"Of course," Abhishek said with a grin. "But only if you work hard. No shortcuts, alright?"

"I won't let you down!" Ishaan promised, practically vibrating with determination.

As they finished talking, Ishaan turned to me, his face glowing. "Didi, why didn't you tell me you were friends with him?"

"I...uh..." I stammered, unsure how to explain whatever this relationship with Abhishek was.

"Your sister's alright," Abhishek cut in, throwing me a teasing glance. "A little clumsy, but not bad."

I rolled my eyes, but Ishaan didn't seem to notice. He was too busy grinning up at Abhishek like he'd hung the moon.

"Alright, kid," Abhishek said, ruffling Ishaan's hair again. "I've gotta go now, but you keep practicing, okay?"

"I will!" Ishaan said, nodding so hard I thought his head might fall off.

Abhishek turned to me, his smirk softening into something closer to a smile. "See you later, broomstick."

"See you, peacock," I shot back, feeling a faint blush creep up my neck as he climbed back into his car.

As he drove away, Ishaan turned to me, practically bouncing on his toes. "Didi, he's so cool! And he's so nice! How do you even know him?"

"It's...a long story," I said, smiling softly.

But as I watched my little brother race inside, practically shouting his excitement to the entire neighborhood, I couldn't help but think about the way Abhishek had interacted with him. It wasn't just cute; it was heartwarming.

Maybe there was more to Abhishek Sharma than his infuriating smirks and arrogant attitude. Maybe...just maybe, he wasn't so bad after all.