He pressed his lips together and gave me a knowing look.
‘Fine, maybe I do. But—’
‘But nothing. I’ve figured out how to make you warm up to this city.’
I let out a dry laugh. ‘Neil, I’ve lived here for over three years. If I haven’t warmed up to Mumbai so far, I doubt it’s going to happen now.’
‘Not with this attitude it won’t.’ The teasing in his tone slowly turned more sincere. ‘You’ve got a lot of fight in you, Kavya. It blows my mind. But surviving Bombay is not the same as living it, you know.’
I opened my mouth to protest, but a voice nagged in the back of my mind.He’s not wrong.
‘Come on,’ he said, straightening up. ‘Let’s fix that.’
With that, he slipped his fingers through mine and tugged me off the barstool. The faint urge to turn back and say our goodbyes dissolved as he led me through the crowd, his grip warm and reassuring.
‘Okay, but where are we going?’ I repeated for the third time since we’d taken off in his Mercedes.
Neil didn’t look away from the road. ‘You’ll see.’
The weather gods had finally shown us some mercy after the incessant rains. The roads had cleared up and were glimmering under the streetlights. It was almost 10 p.m., which meant the worst of the traffic had subsided. For once, it felt like we were actually moving forward instead of aging gracelessly in the same spot.
‘Just so you know …’ I braced one hand dramatically on the dashboard. ‘My parents will not pay ransom if you kidnap me.’
‘Noted,’ he replied, his mouth twitching like he was determined not to smile. A soft, acoustic song I’d heard before but didn’t immediately recognize filled the car as he turned up the volume. ‘For now, just enjoy the drive.’
I exhaled, sinking back and letting the leather seat envelop me. The city whizzed past in streaks of yellow and white—streetlights, shop signs and the occasional autorickshaw that had made it to this part of the town. I tried to do what he’d said … but my eyes kept floating back to him.
To the way the muscles in his forearms popped every time he single-handedly manoeuvred the steering wheel. To the way his other hand was resting absently on his thigh. To how easy it would be for him to reach over and place it on mine.
I tore my gaze away, focusing on the view outside my window. ‘Don’t you have some fancy party to attend on a Friday night? How are you going to feed the Devil if you don’t destroy some poor rich kid’s confidence tonight?’
He let out a low chuckle. ‘I can always make up for it tomorrow.’
‘Do you really enjoy it that much? Roasting people?’
‘I don’t roast people. I offercritical fashion commentary.’
‘Neil, you literally compared that nepo baby’s outfit to a sofa cover.’
‘That was one time.’ He shot me a wounded look, then returned his attention to the road. ‘And itwasa sofa cover. I attached proof.’
I couldn’t help but giggle. Itwasa really funny post.
‘I’ve been thinking about shutting it down though … the Instagram page,’ he said tentatively, as if he was thinking out loud.
I twisted in my seat to look at him, taken aback. ‘What? Why?’
‘I dunno, maybe I’ve outgrown it. Maybe I want to take all that energy and channel it into my streetwear label.’
‘Hmmm.’ I tried to read his expression, but it was too dark inside the car. ‘Have you thought of a name?’
He nodded as an overhead streetlight caught his features. There was a hint of a spark in his eyes. ‘Off Szn,’ he said, spelling out the last word.
I repeated it a few times in my head, feeling it out. ‘I like it,’ I announced. ‘It’s got a bit of an attitude … like you.’ He grinned and thanked me as we turned a corner and slowed down. The road curved gently along the water, a line of shops and late-night stalls dotting the boundary. Neil pulled up the car in front of a bright, bustling storefront. The sign read: Haji Ali Juice Centre.
‘Neil … I just drank beer. I’m in no mood to have juice.’ I shot him a sideways look, unimpressed.
‘Have some faith, will you?’ He rolled down my window and honked lightly. A guy jogged over immediately. ‘Can we have four fruit creams? One of each?’
