No Strings Attached

Chapter One: The Stranger

"You call this plating?"
Agashi turned, holding a plate of seared scallops in her hands, brows furrowed in irritation. Across from her, Rohan smirked, arms crossed over his chest, as he leaned against the counter. The kitchen buzzed around them—flames flaring from the stoves, the rhythmic chop of knives against wooden boards, and the sharp clang of steel utensils hitting pans. Orders were being called out, dishes whisked away, and the scent of butter, garlic, and simmering sauces filled the air.
Rohan tapped the edge of the plate with his index finger. "You always say presentation matters more than taste. This one looks... I don't know, kind of flat."
Agashi narrowed her eyes before setting the plate down with a deliberate click. "Flat?" she echoed.
He shrugged, smirk widening. "Lifeless. Uninspired. Like you just threw the elements together without thought."
Avedh snorted from his station, hands busy tossing fresh greens into a bowl. "You're asking for trouble, man."
Agashi grabbed a clean spoon and, without warning, scooped a bit of sauce onto it. Before Rohan could react, she pushed it between his lips. "Taste first. Critique later."
Rohan's smirk faltered as the flavors burst on his tongue—rich, creamy, with just the right balance of acidity and spice. He chewed thoughtfully before swallowing, then let out a quiet "Huh."
Agashi arched a brow. "What?"
"Could use a bit more lemon."
She groaned. "Get out of my sight."
Laughter rippled through the kitchen as Gisela leaned against the counter, shaking a cocktail shaker with practiced ease. "For someone who claims to be her best friend, you really enjoy getting on her nerves, huh?"
Rohan winked. "It's my calling."
Before Agashi could retaliate, the head server popped his head in. "Table of twelve's here."
And just like that, the teasing faded. The kitchen shifted into high gear. Agashi moved through the space with ease, her team working in perfect sync. Orders flowed in, dishes went out, and the rush of service took over.
It was well past closing by the time the last dish was cleared. The kitchen, once alive with movement, was now dimly lit, the scent of citrus and charred meat lingering in the air. Agashi wiped the sweat from her brow as she pulled off her apron. Just as she was about to check her phone, a notification popped up.
"New member added to the Goa Alumnus group chat."
Her eyes skimmed the name—Kabir.
A recent graduate. Probably some fresh-faced kid looking to network.
She didn't dwell on it. Not when tonight was about something else.Casa Blanca was alive with music and laughter, the sound of waves crashing just beyond the deck. The celebration had gone on longer than expected, everyone toasting to five successful events in a row. Agashi, already a few drinks in, had insisted on sending her team home in cabs, thanking them for their dedication.

The night air was thick with the scent of salt and earth, the distant waves crashing against the shore in a rhythmic pulse. The outdoor lounge of Casa Blanca was draped in soft amber lighting, hammocks swaying lazily between wooden beams. Agashi made her way toward the quietest corner, settling into one of the hammocks, her body sinking into its soft fabric. With one arm draped over the edge, she lazily swirled the whiskey in her glass, watching the way the light refracted through the liquid. The ice clinked softly. It had been an exhausting day, and this was the first real moment she'd had to herself.
That was, until someone walking past stumbled slightly, the motion jostling her hammock and sending a splash of cold liquid onto her hand. She let out a soft sound of protest, looking up.
A man stood there, dark brows slightly furrowed as he glanced down at the mess he'd made. His lips curled into a half-smile, a sharp contrast to the quiet intensity in his gaze. He was tall, lean but built—his white shirt unbuttoned just enough to reveal the definition of his chest. The sleeves were rolled up, exposing strong forearms, veins visible beneath the skin.
"Didn't mean to spill your drink," he said smoothly, voice deep, laced with something unreadable. His eyes flickered over her, mapping her features as if committing them to memory.
Agashi gave a small shake of her head. "It's fine."
He didn't linger. With a final smirk, he turned and disappeared into the crowd.
Minutes later, he returned. This time, he had two glasses in one hand. Without a word, he extended one to her.
She arched a brow, but didn't hesitate. Taking the drink, she let her fingers graze his as she brought the glass to her lips. His smirk deepened.
"You looked like you needed another," he said, settling into the bamboo chair opposite her. The dim light played with the contours of his face—glasses covering sharp, piercing eyes, a well-defined nose, lips perfectly symmetrical. There was something magnetic about him. The way his fingers circled the rim of his glass, slow and deliberate, made her stare longer than she meant to.
"You always bring strangers drinks?" she asked, sipping.
"Only the ones I ruin first," he quipped.
She chuckled, shaking her head slightly. It had been a long time since she'd done this—banter, flirtation. The space between them was charged, neither of them making any unnecessary moves, but both entirely aware of the tension simmering beneath.
As she took another sip, he reached out, plucking the glass from her hand with a boldness that sent a spark through her chest. Their fingers barely brushed, but the touch sent a quiet thrill through her.
Agashi didn't overthink it. She never did.
Sliding out of the hammock, she moved toward him, settling onto his chair. Her bent knees slid onto either side of his legs, straddling him.
His breath hitched—only slightly—but she caught it.
"You—"
She silenced him with a kiss.
It was slow at first, deliberate. Testing. Then, it turned deeper, needier, as her fingers found the collar of his shirt, tugging him closer. His hands instinctively landed on her waist, fingers pressing just enough to make her gasp. He took that as an invitation, lips moving against hers with an intoxicating rhythm.
The taste of whiskey lingered between them, warm and rich. He bit her lower lip, teasing, pulling, making her exhale a soft sigh against his mouth.
Then, voices.
The sound of approaching laughter pulled them apart just in time. Agashi pressed her forehead to his for a brief second before exhaling sharply and pulling away.
"Your place," she murmured, stepping back.
Before he could react, she tossed her car keys in his direction. He caught them effortlessly, watching her with something like amusement before standing.
As Agashi made her way out, she settled the bill with practiced ease. When she stepped outside, he was already waiting in the driver's seat, fingers tapping lightly against the wheel.
The moment she slid into the passenger seat, she leaned in, her whiskey-laced breath ghosting over his neck. She pressed her lips just below his ear, featherlight, drawing a sharp inhale from him.
"Wait until we get home," he muttered.
But she smirked, letting her hand drift dangerously close to his thigh before pulling away at the last second.
"What a tease," he whispered, shaking his head as he started the engine.
The drive was tense, the air between them thick with unsaid promises. When they reached his building, he pressed the third floor in the lift.
She turned to him, smiling faintly.
"Not bad," she murmured.
"Better inside," he countered.
As soon as the doors shut, his hand was on her waist, pulling her in, lips crashing onto hers. She responded instantly, hands tangling into his hair, his fingers tracing the curve of her spine. He pressed her against the elevator wall, the low hum of the lift a stark contrast to the frantic rhythm between them.
When the doors opened, she was in his arms—legs wrapped around him, his grip firm under her thighs. He managed to fumble for the keys in his pocket, but before he could speak, she pressed a slow, lingering kiss against his mouth.
"Don't ruin it," she whispered.
He swallowed thickly, nodding.
She reached into his pocket, fingers brushing against him longer than necessary as she fished out the key. Unlocking the door, she pushed him inside.
Wrapped in the sheets, their bodies tangled together, the heat of the night still clinging to them. Agashi exhaled softly, running her fingers over his chest, but before she could think too hard, exhaustion pulled her under.
By the time the sun filtered in through the curtains, she stirred. The warmth beside her was unfamiliar. Her eyes flickered open, taking in the man sleeping beside her—his features softened by sleep, his glasses gone, exposing dark lashes and the faint freckles dusting his nose.
A moment too long.
She slipped out of bed, gathering her clothes as quietly as she could.
No names. No attachments. Just one night.
By the time she stepped out of his apartment, the door clicking shut behind her, she was already pushing the memory away.
What she didn't realize—what she never even thought to check—was the small, broken pendant lying tangled in the sheets behind her.
By the time she got to work, exhaustion clung to her, but she kept herself busy. The café was already bustling, early customers seated with their coffees and warm pastries. She greeted her team as usual, but something felt different.
She wasn't sure if it was the lingering heat on her skin or the way her thoughts kept drifting back to last night—the firm grip of his hands, the way he had whispered against her lips, the way he had made her feel alive again.
Shaking her head, she threw herself into work, pretending nothing had changed.
Later that evening, Casa Blanca hummed with energy, the golden glow of lanterns casting soft shadows against the wooden beams. The waves crashed just beyond the deck, blending into the background of chatter and clinking glasses.
Agashi walked through with Gisela towards the familiar crowd, her fingers curled around a chilled glass, the rim still wet from the condensation. The alumni gatherings were always a mix of nostalgia and new faces, blending past memories with the present.
"Agashi, Gisela!"
They turned to see Shubhaan waving them over, his usual charismatic grin in place. He was a few years her senior, one of the more familiar faces from their alumni group, always the loudest in the room. Beside him, Frederick stood with his arms crossed, his amused smile peeking through his salt-and-pepper beard.
"Sonali and Karl are here too," Shayna added, nudging Agashi's arm. Shayna was a batchmate, someone Agashi had known for years, though they weren't particularly close. Whereas Gisela was two years senior, at an event during college they hit naturally and have been travelling buddies ever since ..and now work too.
Agashi smiled, greeting them one by one, before Shubhaan called over another person. "Kabir, let me introduce you to—"
She turned, expecting to see another fresh-faced graduate, maybe someone she'd recognize from alumni announcements.
But no.
It was him.
The guy from last night.
The same tousled hair, the sharp frame of his glasses, the lazy confidence in his stance—except now, instead of the hazy intimacy of dim bedroom lights, they were in the open, surrounded by familiar faces.
Kabir's eyes widened slightly. He recognized her.
Agashi felt her stomach lurch, but years of practice had made her an expert in masking emotions. She forced a polite, neutral expression as if she were seeing him for the first time.
Kabir hesitated just a second before following her lead.
Shubhaan clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Meet Agashi—2015 batch, one of the finest from our alumni."
Kabir nodded, slipping easily into the role, the corner of his lips twitching. "Pleasure to meet you."
Shubhaan continued, oblivious to the undercurrents between them. "And this is Kabir—recent graduate!"
Agashi took a sip of her drink, still calm, still unreadable.
Then—
"Remember when we were his age?" Shubhaan laughed, nudging Agashi playfully. "Fresh out of college, thinking we could take on the world?"
Something in Agashi's mind screeched to a halt.
21.
He's 21.
The realization hit like a crashing wave, loud and overwhelming.
Shubhaan continued talking, oblivious. "Feels kind of old now, doesn't it?" He chuckled, nudging her again.
Agashi forced out a laugh, the sound almost foreign to her own ears.
Kabir, ever perceptive, caught the brief flicker in her expression, his smirk deepening—like he knew exactly what she had just realized.
The conversation moved on, shifting between old stories, college memories, and casual banter. Agashi kept her distance, blending into the background as others took turns speaking.
At some point, she drifted toward the bar, needing another drink—or maybe just a moment alone.
She was swirling the ice in her glass when she felt someone step beside her.
"You're a good actress," Kabir murmured, voice low enough for only her to hear.
Agashi exhaled slowly. "I don't know what you're talking about."
His smirk remained. "Of course you don't."
Before she could respond, Frederick, standing in the center of the gathering, clinked his glass to grab everyone's attention.
"Alright, listen up!" he called. "We've got new graduates here, and as tradition goes, it's time for the mentor game."
A few cheers and laughs rippled through the group.
"Each new graduate will pick a chit," Frederick continued. "Whoever's name they pick will be their assigned mentor—someone to go to for advice, guidance, or just a drinking buddy when the real world starts kicking their ass."
Shubhaan laughed. "We didn't have this when we graduated."
Frederick grinned. "Which is exactly why we're doing it now."
A glass bowl was passed around with small folded slips inside. Five new faces took turns drawing their mentors, each reading out names to a round of cheers and claps.
Then—
Kabir reached into the bowl.
He unfolded the paper, looked at it for a second—then glanced up.
There was a flicker of amusement in his eyes before he spoke.
"Ah... Agashi."
The moment stretched.
She knew.
She just knew—
Her name wasn't written on that slip.
But he had said it anyway.
Her eyes flicked to the paper in his hand, but he had already tucked it away.
A murmur of approval went around the group, people clapping and cheering.
Agashi met his gaze, unblinking.
Kabir smiled.
And just like that, the game had begun.