License to Choose

Chapter 14.

Mason was right. The moment he was permitted entry by the Kapoor/Kumar clan, he felt welcomed and warm.
Talia immediately greeted him at the door and asked whether he wanted a drink, and Naveer was quick to offer dinner.
The rumble in his stomach made it difficult for Mason to refuse, and he was soon ushered to Anya's room, where soft music could be heard through the door, while the couple prepared their evening food.

He knocked once and entered, only to remain in the entryway as he watched the raven-haired girl clumsily twirl in a bright orange Indian dress. Her hair fell in ringlets and spiralled as she repeated the move before shuffling to the left and then the right. Her back was towards him, and it was only when Mason closed the door did she visibly jump and turn with her hand on her heart in fright. His own snicker of amusement was fuelled with delight.

"How long have you been standing there?" She asked gingerly, lifting the jewellery that dangled from her hairline to wipe away her sweat.

"Long enough," He grinned as a light blush heated her cheeks, "what are you doing?"

"Practising," She breathed, tying the scarf that stretched from her left shoulder to her right hip so that it sat firmly before perching on the bed beside him. "Or at least trying to, my oldest cousin is getting married next year, Covid permitting, of course, but the rest of us cousins are now preparing a dance together,"

"This would be a cousin in India?" He asked, and she nodded, still out of breath.

"Yup, which means my practice is limited to zoom calls until we can fly out there, which sucks! And did I mention that I CAN'T DANCE!" Her eyes bulged with her fury, and it was difficult for Mason not to laugh at her distress, gaining a narrowed look in return. "It's not funny," She complained, "My cousins have just over a year to put this all together, and I'm just going to look like a babbling, bumbling baboon."

"Wasn't that a line from Harry Potter?" Mason asked as she raised her brows.

"Yes, and it's incredibly accurate, I'm going to suck,"

"You're going to be great," Mason encouraged, "you've got a year to practise, and if you end up looking like a baboon, then at least you can say you tried,"

She nodded silently as the words seeped in, her response delayed as she elbowed him in the gut. "Sorry," Mason chuckled, clearly not meaning the expression  as she shook her head, exhaling forcefully so that the tendrils framing her face blew out of her eyes.
"So, what is this?" He asked, pressing his index finger to the jewellery on her brow. It fell into her lap immediately, and Mason's eyes widened as a genuine apology tumbled from his lips.

"It's fine!" Anya giggled, picking up the headpiece so that it stretched against the length of her palm. "It's a tikka, basically traditional Indian jewellery. They're usually quite fragile, which is why I'm practising with it on. Wouldn't want it land in someone's falooda when I spin," she claimed as he laughed in agreement, silently grateful that his knowledge of Indian food extended to their rose-flavored milkshake.

"I like your dress too," he complicated, nothing the blush deepen in her cheeks. "Come on, give us another twirl," she sneered at his Rye dialect, something Anya often did, but she complied nonetheless, standing up so that he could see the vivid colours sparkle in the yellow room light. "You should wear clothes like this more often,"

"Ha!" Anya snickered, moving to the desk to remove the bangles on her wrists and tuck her tikka safely away. "It would be too effortful," she explained, "and my suits aren't warm enough for here. Jeans and jumpers are more my thing, but I wear suits when I go to India. I always feel a little outcasted there; I'm the Brit," She reasoned, "but at least when I wear my clothes, I look like I belong,"