Page 70 of The Art of Taking Second Chances

“My turn. What was the name of the hostel warden who used to check our rooms for contraband?”

I furrowed my brow. “Mrs. Mehta, right?”

“What was her first name?”

I couldn’t recollect, so I cried foul. “I didn’t live there, so I think it’s an unfair question.”

“Alright, Rehani, I’ll give you this one. Her first name was Devika.”

“Ah, I remember now. Devika Mehta, terror personified!”

“Your turn!” She grinned.

This time, I was ready. “Do you remember the night we sat chatting under the tree before we went off to my place?”

“Yes?”

“What were you wearing that night?”

“Oh!” That was an undeniable yelp. “Umm…”

“Isn’t that the sound a loser makes?”

She narrowed her eyes and growled. “Give me a minute.”

“Sure, I’ll wait,” I said, pulling out my phone. “While I browse for a song.”

When no sound left her lips for two full minutes, I smirked at her. “Although your silence is like music to my ears, you should give up, Tara.”

She let out a dramatic sigh. She wasn’t one to accept defeat graciously. “So, what was I wearing?”

“Ivory linen pants and…ahem…a tight little burgundy top.” I remembered being envious of the looks she had fetched all day.

“You always had a dirty mind, didn’t you?”

“But you saw right through me.”

As her smile faded away, I cleared my throat. “Okay, hope you’re ready. I’ll now torture you with some obnoxious metal that even I don’t listen to.”

“That’s not fair,” she whined.

“Your terms, missy. Here we go.” The loud noise that blared from my phone was some crappy experimental music a friend had once forwarded to vex me. It was tone-deaf and disturbing, to say the least, and the perfect way to annoy her.

“Ugh, stop,” she yelled over the clamor of disharmonious metal sounds, clamping her hands over her ears. I turned down the volume. “Congratulations, I’m officially hard of hearing.”

Her lips turned into an unintended pout as she inserted her slender fingers into her ears. How I longed to pull her into my arms and kiss her at that moment! But wasn’t I the one who had pushed her away?

“My turn, but how about we raise the stakes?” she said, and I focused my eyes back on her. “I’ll ask one last question, and if you answer correctly, you get to ask me anything you want.”

“And if I don’t?”

Her eyes sparkled with devious intent. “If you don’t, you’ll dance to a Bollywood song.”

I smiled. “I’d be so scared right now if I didn’t know you. But I accept, because I know I can never lose!”

“Such misplaced arrogance!” She smirked. “Alright then, tell me who was the first girl you slept with in Baroda?”

I frowned at her. “Really? That’s crass.”

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