Not in the Script: An Ahaan & Aneet Collection

Best Friends...?

Wind teased the edge of her hair. She didn't answer at first. The city sounded like it was breathing. She stared at the ring road lights, then turned back, eyes steadier than he felt.

"I like you," she said, like she was giving a headline and a thesis. "More than I should. More than I planned. And I like my life the way it is. I need to make sure I don't burn it down because I got starry-eyed over a boy who holds doors and prays for me in churches."

He huffed, almost laughing despite the ache. "You noticed that."

"I noticed everything." Her mouth lifted. "Especially the way you look at me when you think I'm not watching."

He took a half-step. "And how do I look?"

She didn't answer, only looked up at him. A silence followed, charged and burning. The muffled bass from inside thumped like a second heart. He reached for her hand, turned it palm-up, and pressed his mouth to the soft centre. Not a kiss like the ones they'd got away with in dim corridors. A kiss like a promise.

"Ahaan," she warned, but it was a whisper.

"Five minutes," he said. "No more. Then we go back and I'm your best friend again."

Her chin tipped up, considering him, her eyes didn't leave his. The hand he held didn't shake. "Then kiss me. The way that's ours, not Vaani and Krish's."

He almost laughed, relief, want, and a now familiar bubbly feeling in his chest, and then he did what she asked.

It began impossibly gentle, their mouths finding that familiar, devastating alignment with a care that bordered on reverence. He tasted the faint citrus of her drink on her lips, the warmth of the night on her skin. She rose on her toes —a breath, a brush — and then he cupped the line of her jaw, thumb stroking, and the restraint snapped soft and devastating.

She made a sound, not dramatic, not for effect, just the soft ache of yes, and he swallowed it like a secret. The kiss deepened, heat curling slow instead of erupting. His palm slid to the small of her back, fingers splayed; she came closer in a single, decisive movement that said I want this, and his knees almost went weak.

He broke briefly, their foreheads pressed, breath shaking between them. "Aneet," he said like every syllable was testing his hold on himself.

"Five minutes," she reminded, breathless, and tugged him back by the lapel.

They kissed like they had the luxury of long summer nights, like no one had ever taught them the word careful. But he kept one promise even inside the heat of the moment, he didn't take more than she gave. When her fingers loosened in his hair, when her mouth softened, when her hand at his chest stayed instead of pulling, he slowed, easing them back for air without letting her go.

The door creaked. They sprang apart a half-step as Alanna popped her head through, eyes wide. "I saw nothing," she announced, then narrowed her gaze. "But if I did, hypothetically, I would tell you both you have sixty seconds before Mohit wants a photo with the entire cast."

"On our way," Ahaan said, voice only a little shaky.

Alanna grinned. "You two are ridiculous," she whispered as she slipped back inside. He turned to look at her and asked softly "You're okay?"

"I'm good," Aneet said, cheeks flushed.

They stood for a breath. He reached to fix the earring he'd nudged. She let him, eyes on his mouth in a way that made him want to ruin every single plan.

"Best Friend," she said, reminding herself as much as him.

He exhaled, smiled. "Best Friend."

They walked back in, shoulders almost but not quite touching. On the way, Deanne met his eyes, a question and an answer in one raised brow. He gave the smallest nod. She didn't smile; her eyes did, soft and certain.