Dil Jaanta Hai | ✔

eighteen

||CHAPTER 18||
《¤》

I was pretty sure that the scowl on my face was not temporary. It all started Saturday morning, the work-out days. While coming back home from the one hour run, Arnav challenged me into racing him the whole route back to our apartment. He didn't wait for me to accept his dare, he just started speeding up as if we hadn't run for an hour at all.

And hence, I was rewarded with him twerking to rejoice his win, shoving his bum into my face in the elevator.

"Ew, Arnav," I scowled again, "Stop it!"

No, he had to sing along to his twerks too, "Bijli girane, mai hoon aya; Arnav is faster, poor Vika!"

"Do you even hear yourself?!" I smacked his bum to stop him.

He stopped twerking, rubbing his bum and facing me, "Don't blame me! Daadi kal raat ye gaana sun rahi thi, and now it's stuck in my head!"

"Listen to something else then, your voice is horrendous, just like you!"

The elevator came to a halt, and we were greeted by our neighbors. We quickly filed out, getting inside our house. Just to spite me more, Arnav wound his sweaty arm around my shoulder.

"Chhi, Arnav!" I scowled again, his odor filling my nostrils. "You are stinking, haath hata!"

I proceeded to unwound his arm, but he just leaned his head, brushing the sweat off his hair on my left arm, chuckling mischievously.

"I hate you, you badboodar bandar!"

"Well, you are badboodar bandar ki twin, matlab tu hui badboodar bandariya!"

Whatever response I had scoured up, stopped when we saw our Dad giving us strange looks. "Kya hua?"

"Kuch nahi," he shook his head. "I thought tum log sirf jhagda hi karte ho."

"Ham jhagad hi rahe hai, Dad!" I rolled out my sweat band from my wrist, and rubbed it on Arnav's face.

"Dude," he drawled, pausing my movement, grabbing the band, "is this my Nike band?"

"Enough!"

He should have said Statue instead, because that's what we became when our Dad tried to grab our attention.

"These are yours," he passed out two envelopes on the coffee table, sipping his coffee. We grabbed them, opening it, only to receive flight tickets.

"Delhi to Mumbai? Eighteenth ko?" Arnav had fake confusion lacing his features.

"Hmm," he replied, flicking on the T.V.

"Dad, hum Mumma ki shaadi attend nahi karne wale hai," I said finally after a few seconds passed.

"You, out of you two, should be the last one to say that, Vika."

"Last or first, doesn't matter Dad," Arnav let go of his poker face. "Both of us aren't going to the wedding."

"Why?"

"Why aren't you going, you tell us."

His gaze remained on the wall unit. "I am the ex-husband."

"But she did invite you, didn't she?" I asked.

"Some matters," he looked at us, "you shouldn't probe around. Jo bola gaya hai, wahi karo."

"No!" Arnav's voice rose slightly. "Mai us Oberoi ko-"

"-Mr. Oberoi for you-"

"-nahi bardasht kar sakta hoon! Ham agar waha gaye to hamara mazak ban jayega!"