A solid seven, I reckon.

Honestly, it's embarrassing how I used to think it was a ten back then, but in my defense, I hadn't exactly experienced a proper ten until my 21st birthday. Naturally, I imagined this was what a tenner would be like—enthusiastic and sloppy towards the end, doing all the work to receive complacent pats on the head, glugging and gulping and making that noise—a cross between a groan and grunt.

I would have offered a favorable bargain—if not for the cars silently lining up on the screen behind her. It wasn't like she minded it either—her eyes and mouth were both exerting themselves between my legs. We had our priorities.

I spared the girl two glances, one panting as I neared the edge, the other to double-check whether she was into it too—one could never be sure with the chicks these days. My fingers dug into the soft material of the couch, head momentarily falling back on the headrest. Audible puffs of breath to egg her on. She was doing a good job.

I sifted her hair on the top of her head. She surely was keeping up her promise of being a stress-reliever. Two more minutes of the weird slurping thing she did with her tongue, and I'd be filling her mouth and getting back to the replay of the Dubai Grand Prix.

The thought made my head lift up just in time to catch two Renaults crashing into each other. On their own accord my fingers floated over the button on the remote, and an excited commentary replaced the lewd smacking of wet skin.

"You've gotta be kidding me," A heavily accented shriek cut through the debate in front of me, and seconds later, I found the screen being blocked by her face. Mhmm, smeared lipstick, runny mascara. I was getting better at this.

Except for the accusatory frown of course.

"Fuçķ—" I hissed, launching the remote in the air, "I didn't mean to... it was accidental, I swear!"

"Oh yeh? T'was accidental, huh? D'you take me for a fool? Fuckin' bastard!"

"Babe, I pressed the button by mistake, I didn't even know my hand was on it."

I think that perfectly logical explanation didn't make sense to her, because with the string of swears her pitch heightened. "I'm not an idiot. I'm literally doing all the work here and all you're interested in is some stupid fùçķing race!"

The lock turned and the door swung open. "Nelly, guess who just invited us to the bonfire..." Finally a voice I recognized.

Shìť. A voice I recognized. For fùçķ'ś sake, I was here to meet her.

"What's going on?" She trailed off, stopping behind the couch. "Gosh, fùçķ, Karan?!"

I wasn't sure if she had sneaked a peek, but I didn't waste any time tucking it in. A difficult task—only getting harder by the second. Man, I didn't have time for these (totally intended) puns.

Nelly tapped her feet impatiently, folding her hands with a provoked sneer. "What's going on? Your friend here is an inconsiderate aśšhole, that's what's going on!"

Any insult thrown my way always amused Arvika. She proceeded towards the kitchenette and yanked open the fridge door. "Not like I didn't warn ya."

I turned to Nelly, zipping up my pants. "I said I'm sorry!"

"No you didn't."

"Look, none of this was meant to happen," I asserted, one eye still on the race behind her. Her eyes had turned into slits, lasers shooting down by body. What did she want to hear? Praises! Right, girls love that. "Babe, you were awesome... and we should do this again."

"Like hell I'd ever do that again!" She yelled with disdain. "You know what, Karen, go fùçk yourself!"

Only after the slamming of her bedroom door did I manage to yell, "Abey, Karen hogi teri amma!"

Arvika shook her head in dismay. "Unbelievable, Karan."

"Ab tu mat suna," I said, snatching a piece of pizza from the box she brought to the couch. "I missed the fùcķìñg replay because of her."

"Yeah well, not the ideal example of multitasking. Stop blaming my roommate. What were you even doing here?"

"I wanted to show you something."

"Oh, show you did." 

I tried, tried desperately to stop the red staining my cheeks, but was I really ashamed? Not in the least. "Impressive, I know. That's not what I'm talking about, though."

I reached inside my bag and slapped an envelope onto her lap. The seal on it made her pause mid-bite, eyes widening in shock. "You're kidding..."

"Yeah, you're on camera."

Wiping her greasy fingertips on her leggings, she wasted no time in unfolding the letter, releasing a pleasant sigh of disbelief. "You got in... Dude, you got in!"

"I did—"

"You're gonna be Merc's driver?!"

"Well, technically the third driver. I won't actually get to race this seas—"

I wasn't expecting the hug she launched at me, but god it felt good. The homeliness. The affection. The joy. Holy fùçķety fuck.

"I'm so happy for you, Karan!" She said on releasing me. "Damn, bro. Finally! About time, huh? Karan Bahl. Indian Motorsports racing driver. Formula Fùçķing One Racing Driver!"

I liked the sound of that. Her eyes were round and big and it was the very first time it felt like someone was proud and happy for me. Genuinely. Without consequences. 

"Uncle-Auntie ko bataya?"

"Mhm-hmm." Nope.

"We have to celebrate. Vansh aur Ishi ko bataya tune? Arnav's coming here for the weekend, I'll track down Ritwik. When do you start training?"

"They will call in a few days." 

She was excited and did not bother toning it down. It was rare to see Arvika like that. I liked it—being the focus of her attention.

I cleared my throat. "Before that, I kinda wanted to watch this race with you. Show you the basics so that you can qualify as my fangirl."

"Fùçķ yourself, Bahl." And she was back.

"Oh, I would."

I watched as her gaze dropped to the obvious elephant in the room. With a scoff, she picked up another slice of pizza and stood up. "Yeah, try not to use your hands."

And with a big wide grin, I  winked at her. "Why don't I use yours instead?

"Excuse you?"

Mia holds the door open, staring me down with a propped brow. An oversized t-shirt makes up the entirety of her night dress as she stands barefoot at the threshold of her new residence.

I thrust a bottle of wine into her hand, "Housewarming present."

"Dude, this has reached some alag level of persuasion, haan."

Except, I am not here to remind her that she is letting go of a lucrative opportunity over ridiculous analyses. "I keep business and pleasure separate," I shrug at her, stepping inside.

Mellowed ghazal filters through the dimly lit living room. There's no couch, just a rug that's occupied by two of her new roommates who eye me up mid-smoke. One offers me her joint, and due to a lack of better things to do, I accept it. Don't fùçķing frown at me, I've had a tough day, okay?

The socialization doesn't last long though. Mia pulls me to her balcony before I have a drag in. "Seriously, what the fùçķ are you doing here, Karan?"

Plumes of smoke blow out of my mouth before I can speak. "I thought about what you said."

"And yet you're trying to convince me to work for you?"

"Get over yourself. That offer is off the table. You lost the chance."

Look at her face. She is low key offended even though she responds with an inaudible okay.

"My heart is not in the right place. But that doesn't have much to do with..."

"...Arvika?"

I nod. "I..." want her to hurt but I don't want to hurt her? Fùçķing hell do I sound ridiculous.

A firm squeeze on my shoulder prompts me to look at her. I try again, this time, thinking of where the better half of my heart was invested in. "Racing. That is where I used to feel like I belonged."

"Oh, so you didn't retire out of boredom," she pulls out two chairs from the living room. Her poker face doesn't betray the snark in her tone. I can sense a privileged remark. "How sad."

"No, not out of boredom," I play into it. "Daddy's credit cards had a role to play in it though."

She makes a pained expression. "Please tell me it won't get declined after this session? My rates are higher after office hours."

"You're a very mean person."

"I charge extra to play nice."

_____

Namoshtaii!

I tried baking today after nearly a year and a half. Clearly out of practice, my cake now has a cookie-like texture, but I am not complaining. It tastes good. A win is a win. Have you ever tried baking? Do you like it with raisins or do you have a good taste in food?

Fun fact. The first scene of this chapter was the first scene ever written for this book. All thanks to my friend Snowy whose harmless flirting led to this one. 

In other news, I have become a gym girl now. Turns out there is more to a gym than treadmill and weights. While my trainer helped me learn the names of all the equipment, it reminded me how I once googled gym equipment to be able to write a gym scene. And now, I know how to use them too. Circle, huh?

Banner's vector art by ughhmaybeits_Titli has my entire heart. She hasn't lost her touch. Thanks Titli!

Anyhoo, how are you spending this fine Christmas weekend? Read, vote, comment, promote!

~Shubhodiya