Rags To Royals (Royal #1: Book 1) | ✔

64

"Yeah, if she gets a TV, then we shall get one too." Arush finally gets his tongue back. Fucking wimp. Will never say a word when I'm at the losing end, but would stand up for Agastya even if he's wrong. He's so unfair. Yuvaan was right at calling him a brat.

"Why? Why would you get one?" I place my hands on my hips. "You go along with whatever he puts on. If you want to play games, you connect your console to it. If you want to watch a movie, you open up Netflix on there. You need the cable connection only when you have to watch a match or something. But I need it for so many reasons."

"For example?"

"For example, the reruns of sitcoms on Comedy Central and Fox. Then I've local Bollywood movies that I put on to practice my Hindi. And the reality shows on the weekends. Also, I like Hindi songs." I explain.

"I don't care how much you watch television, that doesn't justify you getting one installed in your own damn room." Agastya grunts. "It's a rule that only those who've crossed their twenties will get a television in their rooms. She isn't even eighteen yet! She's still a kid." He looks at Yuvraaj with narrowed eyes.

"Oh, now you remember I'm a kid? Did you forget my age when you kicked me to the ground?" I accuse.

"You attacked me first."

"And aren't you ashamed to fight with a kid over a freaking TV remote!?" I shoot back.

"What?" His face scrunches in disbelief. "What are you even trying to say, dumbass?"

"That you're a hypocrite!"

"And you're a headache!"

I mock a laugh. "Very funny. Did you use up your entire braincells while trying to come up with that comeback?"

"No, funnily enough, you naturally bring the insults out of me." He retorts.

I flare my nose. "Oh, how original. Did you steal that from Pinterest?"

He blinks. "How do you know?"

I inhale a deep breath. "See, this is what he does to me. I need a seperate television in my room." I fix my gaze on Yuvraaj. He appears estranged, like he's stranded between a bunch of aliens, unable to understand their language. But not that he can escape. I thought growing up in poverty taught me how to adjust and compromise, I was wrong. Because it, however, never prepared me for a life with siblings. I'd rather go jump into an empty well than accept defeat in front of Agastya. He'd never get that satisfaction from me. Not until I'm alive.

"I need one too if she does."

"Me too."

"Me too." I mock Arush. "Shut up, miss Twitter."

"I'm a Mister." He snorts.

"You don't even realise what insulted you. How do you survive?" I ask him pitifully.

He threatens to punch me.

"I know how to shoot." I one-up him.

"I taught you how to shoot." Agastya reminds me.

"Exactly why I'm still not perfect at it." I roll my eyes. "I need a better teacher."

"It's not my fault. I can only teach you, I cannot learn it for you."

I gasp. "Don't talk like Shourya!" I hit him on the arm.

He winces, then hits me back.

"You dare hit a girl?" I gape at him. "Is this what you taught him?" I question Yuvraaj.

"Yes, he taught me not to hit girls. You're anything but a girl. Rude, unsophisticated, brash-"

"Don't mansplain." I scoff.