Revenge Formula

six

"i'm so ready for bed." simran said, lying down on the mattress.

she definitely was, but he wasn't. she got the mattress and he'd gotten the couch. didn't really seem fair when he was the one who'd dragged her into a wedding he had no plans of attending, right?

ayan kept his phone down, settling down on the couch. he'd already taken one of the pillows and a comforter. if he had to sleep on the couch, he might as well make it a makeshift bed at least.

ayan had half a mind to open his laptop and check if he had any emails when simran turned to him.

"ayan, do you have a lighter?" she asked.

"oh, erm . . ." why the hell did she need a lighter now? "i don't smoke." he flinched.

simran made a face at that, "too bad."

too bad? what the hell did she mean by that?

"don't worry, i'll find one." simran continued, settling herself comfortably on the mattress.

". . . okay?" ayan frowned.

ayan liked to believe that he could easily get a read on most people, but that was before he ran into simran a few weeks back. simran sangha was an enigma he could never begin to understand—not that he was trying to, anyway. he couldn't begin puzzling her out even if he wanted to, for that matter. simran's brain worked in a different way.

simran reached forward to switch off the lights.

ayan wondered if he should tell her goodnight. would that be too awkward? he decided to let it be. 

a few minutes had passed, and they laid in silence. ayan was just drifting off to sleep, when simran said his name.

"ayan?"

"yeah?" he rubbed at his eyes.

"nothing. sleep well." she answered.

huh? that was oddly kind for simran sangha.

"you too." he offered.

and then they drifted back to silence.

🎈👠

as much as the thought made her jealous, simran hoped that simone was wearing something designer for this dinner that her father was hosting for his colleagues. 

and as much as the thought of seeing rishabh in a suit made her want to bang her head against the nearest wall, she hoped he was wearing his most expensive suit. preferably, black. it always looked good on him.

well, the more good it looked, the better it would feel. oh, what fun she'll have to ruin whatever they were wearing!

she'd spent the next day lounging around in their room, counting down the hours until the dinner party the d'souza's would be hosting. lazing around a few hours wouldn't be hard. ayan was on his laptop for most part of the afternoon, his headphones on. simran found herself admiring ayan's jawline for a moment—the precise cut of it, and how the stubble made him look better. simran quickly shook off that thought. ugh, unwanted distractions. she had time for that later.