✧ Arshiya Raizada, daughter of a multibillionaire businessman and a renowned fashion designer. Mega-rich? Check. Spoiled? Most definitely. Brat? On occasions. Rulebreaker? All the time.
✧ Roshan Singhania, son of the state chief minister. Bad boy...
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Roshan
I find myself in the locker room showers at the end of the school day, washing off the remnants of Arshiya's prank - apparently playing Holi with freezing cold water is her idea of a prank. Only, instead of colorful powder mixed in water, she figured it's better to use acrylic paint.
Well, I am blaming her even though I should be blaming her younger cousin, Rihaan. He's the mastermind behind all pranks in their family. No doubt, he must have grabbed the first thing he'd have come across and with Sanya as his girlfriend, her colors must have been easiest to get his hands on.
As I am getting dressed, the door opens. Speak of the devil. "You're going to get in trouble if anyone finds out you're in the boys locker room."
It least bothers Arshiya that I am in a towel. She walks in carelessly to reach my locker while I reach for my shirt to slip it through my arms and button up. "I'm only here to check if this key opens your locker."
"It doesn't."
Thing about Arshiya, she trusts but not blindly - unless its one of her own people. She tries to stick the key into the back of my locker.
Does she really think I would make it this easy?
She sits back on the bench just two steps away, sulking, when it doesn't work. Right next to where my pants are. When I walk forward to grab them, she puts her purse on top of it. I raise my brow at her, and she crosses her arms over her chest in a silent response. I mimic, pretending I have no idea what she wants to know. Given I leave her no choice but to spell it out, she stands in front of me. I expect her to make her plea, get me to give her a hint she can use to solve the mystery as to what this key leads to.
Surprising me, her fingers reach for the buttons of my shirt.
I swat her wrist away, "Hey, hands off. I know this is the locker room, but no hanky panky."
She reaches for the buttons again, undoing one. I lift my hand to stop her again, but this time, she anticipates it and swats me away. When another button comes to, it clicks in my slow brain. I might have reached for my shirt when she entered, but she'd still seen my torso. Even a one-second glance would have been enough for her to notice it.
The playfulness long escaping the air. My fingers encircle her wrist, firmly this time. "Don't." My tone is clipped and blunt, no longer teasing her over her action of wanting to undress me.
If I haven't said it enough times, this is Arshiya. Relentless. Her path never wavers once she sets her mind.
She assesses my eyes for everything I keep to myself and never let a single soul learn the truth about. "Don't you know, Roshan? I do exactly what I am told not to do." There is no challenge in her tone. No act of defiance. Simply a promise held in her dark brown eyes that she isn't backing down. That she is here because she cares and isn't leaving or going to turn a blind eye to what she's caught on my body.
