"I think you should stop being so mean to me, Zahed."
"Why would I ever do that?"
Aryan grins, a bright, wicked thing.
"Because I kiss you like this."
•
Mira Zahed and Aryan Shankar are at war.
When her best friend and his cousin decide to fall in...
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I DON'T LIKE COFFEE THAT MUCH. But this morning, I feel like I need something strong to carry me through the day. And day-drinking two days in a row isn't a good idea.
Aryan finds me the moment I step onto campus, coffee in hand, my distressed cardigan hanging off one shoulder and a pair of sunglasses perched on top of my head, prepared to be pulled down at a moment's notice.
He stands at the beginning of the lot, hands in his pockets, the morning sun dousing him in brightness. His dark eyes flicker to me immediately as I walk from my car and I know he's been waiting for me specifically.
I would do a mental count of how many people there are in the lot but I can't tear my gaze away from his. I curl my hand around the iced beverage in my hand— more sugar, ice and coconut milk than actual coffee, if we're being real—, its frosty exterior against my skin doing very little to calm my temper when it comes to Aryan Shankar.
He scans me, head to toe, from the bag hanging at my side to the shades at my head before dipping back down to meet my eyes. Pretty eyes.
I narrow them at him once while walking before unceremoniously reaching up and dropping my sunglasses down onto the nose of my bridge.
"We should talk—," Aryan says once I near him.
I walk right past him. He cuts off sharply.
"Fuck off," I say simply, not even turning my head, and I continue walking.
Aryan once again proves that he's much taller than me by easily falling into step beside me, his long legs not once straining to keep up pace. His tone is less friendly now, sarcastic even, as he tips his chin down at me. "Good morning to you too, Zahed," Aryan says. "Sleep well, didn't you?"
