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My phone beeps. The pub crawl starts soon.
“And their nepotistic offspring,” I add, standing up. “A real lack of substance.”
“You’ve got substance.”
Hah.“My life is stupid privileged."
Huan moves until he’s in front of me. He means for our eyes to meet. “When I got hired by your mother’s agent, I thought it would be a simple assignment. But then, I didn’t know the fandom Shreya had. They are a lot.”
My smile is weak. “That’s the nicest way of putting it.”
Many fans are great. Then there are the ones that terrify you. The ones that make you feel as if you're trapped living in a bottle because the alternative is that if you go outside, they'll think they have permission to touch.
“You have advantages in your life, Komal. And you have disadvantages in your life.”
He’s measuring his words. Walking a minefield of making sure my feelings are considered, giving me his utmost understanding. I hate it.
“Actually, I’m good. Let’s drop this.”
Really, I can’t stand Huan feeling like I need reassurance. The topic of my life is a thorny concoction I privately sample. He doesn’t need to convince me that cloudy water is sparkling.
Not that Huan relents. He steps closer.
“You care, Komal. There are so many people I meet, privileged or not, that don’t care. You do. When people give you credit you don’t think you deserve, you pivot. Likeyouthink itshouldn’t belong to you. As if you never want to get comfortable or take what doesn't belong.”
He’s hit a target. There’s a leaking spot. A place I’ve not given nutrition is trying to puff towards him, but I push it back. I can't... not with him. Not with someone who is no longer easy to deflect. With a clearing of my throat, I put my drink down.
“Are you trying to fight?” I say with a forced swagger. The alternative is to… I don’t know… be vulnerable or something.
He swoops down and takes a swig from my glass.
“Soda water”—his eyes spark—“I knew it. You troll.”
Huan says the term like it’s synonymous with Brat which is synonymous with something warm, fun, and affectionate. Something that also meansI knew it because I know you.
I shrug, feeling all kinds of deviousness and vulnerability. The underside of my painting is coming through, but I must splash it with new colour. More protective coats needed. “Don’t pretend you don’t like the excitement of being around me.”
“I won’t pretend.” His mouth softens. “Bird watching.”
“Sorry?”
“The danger code for when you’re not okay.”
“I don’t know how to process this information.” Suddenly, I can’t unstick the grin from my face. Crazy how my mood has swung back around. “I’m imagining you in an apron, a cottage cooking man wandering the forest with binoculars calling out for birds.”
“Must you do this to me?”
My phone beeps again. Second warning.
“We should go,” he insists.
“If you spot any birds on our way, make sure you point them out.”
He groans.
I’m still grinning. Maybe I’m also poking his side, and we’re both laughing.
SIXTEEN
