♥ ♥ ♥
"SO, WHO'S THE UNLUCKY GUY?"
Mira expects the question, jaw ticking as she holds my stare, steely grey eyes threatening to devour me whole, an untamed hurricane of a stare, ready to tear the roof off my little house, rip the trees from the little swatch of coastal earth and drown the holes she leaves behind in a flood.
Hurricane Emira, I think to myself, as I watch her tighten her high ponytail with a sharp tug, dark hair swishing within the red hair tie as she drops her hands to the cup she had rested between her thighs. The cup is in her hands within seconds and she's downed the contents no sooner, head tipping back, a light gold column of throat marred by tell-tale purple.
The rest of the group is glancing between us, a few of them confused because they haven't quite put two and two together yet. Zahed and I aren't too bad at Maths, dancing around our own little equation here.
Kenna, though, she's picking up. Her eyes trace us and I roll my eyes as she smirks. I wish she would go back to ogling the girl sitting next to Parker.
Mira drops her empty cup with a thump back onto the inside of the SUV's boot, between her bare legs. She doesn't sit very lady-like, I note. When she lifts her arms too, her small top rises and I can't help but catch the flash of pale lace creeping above her tan, bared midriff, the pattern skirting pretty and low about her ribs. And despite myself, my mind wanders too fucking far, right into uncharted flood waters.
She looks at me, liquor on her scowling lips. "You don't know him."
I lean back on my palms. "I don't know about that. I know lots of people, Zahed."
A roll of her eyes. It's expected. So is her quickly hissed, "Fuck off, Shankar."
I merely laugh under my breath as the game passes to Parker.
He clears his throat. "Mira."
She looks bored as her eyes slide to him. At the rate this game is going, she's bound to be wasted by her next class and I think she's starting to realise that. I know for a fact that Kenna will be wasted by her next class. I feel a surge of pity for whoever was their professor.
"Yes?" She lifts a single dark brow.
"Do— do you have a boyfriend?"
Her bored expression flashes into amusement.
The question is so elementary that the entire group collectively laughs. I certainly laugh, loud enough that Zahed is looking at me again, rolling her eyes as if the sight of me smiling was a personal affront to her, and then she's looking away again. Parker laughs with us but his shoulders are stiff as he does.
Mira doesn't need to drink for this one though. Parker's face lights up as she shakes her head softly, lips twisted as she remarks, "No."
I can see Kenna processing a million things. But she's tipsy enough that they don't make much sense, and, as usual, her mouth works before her brain does and she's grinning and saying, "You hear that, boys? Mira Zahed is single!" Parker's face is hopeful. The poor guy hasn't yet seen the hickey. "Get in line," cheers Kenna, half-sloshing the contents of her cup as she does, "it's a fight to the death."
Mira glances sideways at Kenna like she was absolutely positive that the girl is insane. She's catching on.
"Hell no." Mira laughs, shaking her head at Kenna. "I don't like men enough for a relationship," she adds, which makes Kenna roar with laughter.
Parker looks a little disappointed, but I'm quite accustomed to Kenna's jabs, and Mira's, for that matter, so I merely observe as Kenna hoists her cup into the air rather show-fully and screeches, "Hell yeah! I'll drink to that, ladies!" Mira brings her cup up to meet Kenna's just as the blonde finishes, knocking her cup against Zahed's, "Fuck men!"
Together, they drink, prompting all the other girls in the group to follow, a collective agreement of Fuck men.
Parker blinks and looks like he's about to complain that this isn't how the game works so I elbow him, lifting my own cup to my lips. "Drink up, mate."
When I lowered my cup, Kenna's grinning and so is Mira. I decide that the combination of these two is the worst decision ever made as Kenna winks. "Fuck men but still fuck men, if you know what I mean."
Mira laughs. She has a starlight laugh, twinkling.
"We are going to fail this test," she tells Kenna between her laughter.
•••
By the end of the game, Zahed and Kenna are tumbling over each other, arms locked together as they laugh at the birds flying overhead. At one point, all Kenna had done was point at me wordlessly and they'd both erupted into laughter, almost falling out of the car.
Somehow, miraculously though, with all they'd drank, it isn't either Kenna or Mira who has to run naked across campus.
It's the pretty curly-haired girl Kenna's thirsting for.
By the time we all rise to our feet— in, Kenna and Zahed's case, half-leaning on each other for balance in the hot car park, students start milling, tracing to and from classes, eyes drifting to our group and all the noise Kenna single-handedly is making. She's cheering so loud as the girl pulls her top over her head I worry I'd get a migraine just from it.
"Yes, baby!" screams Kenna, making the girl grin over her shoulder as she shimmies from her jean skirt, revealing lace. "Take it all off!"
She does exactly that. Every scrap of it.
When she's done, she turns to our group, dropping her hands from over her breasts and I swear to god, Kenna looks like she might faint. She blows us a kiss and then she's racing off, eliciting more whoops and cheers from the lucky souls who are trekking the campus today.
When a group of boys near the start of the lot whistle after her, Kenna, shouts after them, "Aye, fuck off, will ya?"
At this point, my cup is empty so I can't even take a shot for that awful accent.
They only whistle louder and Kenna takes a step forward as if she'd take them all down to preserve the curly-haired girl's— whose name neither of us knew—honour. But she almost face-plants onto asphalt the moment she disconnects from Mira.
Mira's laughing as she pulls Kenna back. "Don't worry, babe," she says, giggling bubbling up from the back of her throat. "They all probably have small dicks anyway."
My eyes scan over the group of guys who have lost interest in the running naked girl, since disappeared from their vision and have now taken to checking out the one who'd just told them to fuck off and her drunk friend. Yeah, small dicks.
It's at that moment I decide to walk them to their inevitable failure of a test before I get to Charlie and Raf.
"Ladies," I say, stepping toward them. "Keys."
Kenna knows the drill. She fumbles around her pocket until she fishes her Toyota keys out and drops them into my waiting palm.
Mira though, her grey eyes, glazed with vodka but still violent, still full of whipping wind, narrow at me. "No."
"Are you going to drive yourself all the way to Calabasas like this, Zahed?" I ask back evenly.
Her lips tilt down. They lift back up into a snarl as soon as she realises it's me she's talking to. "I'll call an Uber."
Kenna elbows her. "It's safer to just give Aryan your keys, Mira," she's convincing her. "Uber smuber."
Mira knows she's right. She probably thinks back to the group of guys at the start of the lot and their eyes, hungry for drunk girls. At least, I think of them.
She wordlessly reaches into the pocket of her shorts, pulling out her phone and her the keys to the Range Rover. The phone, she eyes for a quick moment before clutching it tight to her chest. She drops the keys into my hands.
However, I can tell from the way her eyes flash at me as she does so that she doesn't think a single thing about me is safe.
I want to tell her I think the same. Hurricane Emira, after all.
Any reply I have was overtaken by Melissa.
She'd been quiet for the majority of the rest of the game, wisely so. Zahed had looked like she would commit first-degree murder if she dared open her mouth again. But it seems liquor makes you brave.
And when she saunters past us, away from our slowly dissipating group, her cheeks are flushed from vodka as she murmurs under her breath, "Talk about white girl wasted."
Storm clouds. Zahed's eyes are storm clouds as she tears them into Melissa.
Alcohol makes you brave, but it also makes you stupid.
And in Mira Zahed's case, it makes you angry.
She flings Kenna's arm away from her as she steps directly into Melissa's path, leering down at the girl with a thunderclap heart. "What did you say?"
Kenna blows out a breath, looking my way. I shrug like, What the hell am I supposed to do?
I don't think there's much I can do when Melissa's lip curls back. She sure as hell isn't going to back down from this. Not even when Zahed had a good five inches on her. Not even when she had a hurricane rippling under her skin. She repeats her earlier words, "I said, talk about white girl wasted."
I definitely couldn't stop Mira's whipping round of cursing. In Arabic. Kenna and I exchange a look.
"Kos emek. Say it again," she shouts, in English this time. "Say it again, I dare you, ya kalb. Ya hmara. I dare you.
At this point, she's stopped flinging her hands about so I decide it's prime time for me to intervene before she resorts to blows. Melissa can't take it. She's already pale beside all the curses. Even I'm a little surprised, assuming Zahed exclusively spoke Cali girl English.
I approach Zahed and begin to pull her away, wary a little for my own safety. Her nails are pretty sharp. She could wreak some havoc with those. I quite like my eyes.
She stopped screaming at Melissa to scream at me now.
I sigh.
"Fucking Shankar," growled Mira.
"Yes, Zahed?" I breathe out warily into her ear as I pull her back.
She shakes me off and whirls. "Don't fucking touch me."
Kenna has gone from being concerned to being amused as her eyes follow us. I should have let her fall off a damn table.
I step back, shaking my head as I hold up my hands. "I'm stopping you from getting arrested."
That was enough to remind her of Melissa. The stupid girl was still standing there. She should've run away, honestly. For her own safety.
Mira doesn't go full attack dog mode on her this time though. She all but spits, fists balked at her sides. "What the fuck is your problem with me anyway?"
Melissa, the fool, holds her ground, stating with a venom, "Your father is everything wrong with Hollywood. He's a disgusting pig and yet they keep giving him more and more movies because Hollywood is fucking sexist."
I wait for the attack.
But Mira only uncurls her fists and laughs.
She laughs for a long moment, clutching her sides. If she falls onto the asphalt, I don't think I will pick her up just because she elbowed me in the ribs as she'd shaken me off. Payback.
She doesn't fall, however, straightening, eyes glowing with amusement as she settles them on Melissa.
"That's it?" She laughs. "Well, here's the thing, Buttercup," says Mira. Melissa's brows draw together. Buttercup? "I agree with you. I fucking agree with you." She shakes her head. "So, why don't you take that stick out of your ass and go beat him with it instead of me, huh? Hell, I'll even pay you to do it." She reached into her pocket. "How much do you want? I'm opening my fucking wallet."
As she tossed a couple of quarters onto the floor at Melissa's feet, I step back in, carefully intercepting the wallet as she grabs a couple hundreds. They're on the floor before I can stop her. I sigh.
All I can do now is throw a heated look at Melissa over Zahed's shoulder and mouth, "Go."
At first, the girl doesn't move and I really, really want to let Mira throw quarters at her until one of them gives her a concussion.
Mira stomps forward and growls, "Fuck off, Buttercup."
That sends her retreating.
In the aftermath of Hurricane Emira, there is four hundred dollars on the ground, some pennies and quarters, and one fleeing green-haired girl. And my aching rib because she has a sharp elbow.
Mira's shoulders are rising and falling with stolen breath for a beat, until Kenna nears and tosses an arm over her shoulder. Her grey eyes are storming. "Come on, killer," grins Kenna nonchalantly, "let's go ace this test."
Kenna snaps her fingers at me. "Get the books, busboy."
I roll my eyes but I fish the texts from the SUV, catching Parker's eye as he slams the back of the other back down. I didn't realise he was still here but his eyes are sparkling as he looks after Mira and Kenna stumbling from the car park.
I clap a hand to his shoulder as I go to follow after them, books in hand. "Good game, man."
The walk to the Biology class is full of Kenna's singing. She's taken to singing Raf's hymn. In broken Spanish.
"What's the powerhouse of the cell?" Mira asks her between giggles as they walk.
"Pendejo?" guesses Kenna smartly.
"Sounds about right to me," replies Mira with a matter-of-fact nod.
When we get to the building, Kenna whirls and seizes her share of textbooks from me and claps a hand to my cheek with a wry smile. "Thank you, mate."
I glower at her but she's already walking away, singing Raf's hymn at the top of her lungs, a hand waving above her head as she enters the quiet exam room.
Mira blinks after Kenna as the door slams after her, realising the exam had already started.
I hand her book to her as she balances precariously on the steps of the building. She isn't in any hurry, her movements rather slow as she traces her eyes up from the tips of my shoes to the top of my head.
She isn't glaring. For once.
And I'm surprised, entirely caught off guard, when she says a quick, "Sorry about your rib."
My eyes are wide as I lift a palm and press it against the spot she'd elbowed me. "No worries, Zahed," I reply.
I worry she's going to claw my eyes out with her sharp red nails when she suddenly reaches forward like Haha, motherfucker. But, no, she dips her hand into my hair and I blink.
When she pulls her hand away, she's holding a little yellow leaf. She laughs as she looks at it.
Mira drops it onto the steps and lifts her eyes back to mine. She's back to glaring as she says, "Now, fuck off, Shankar."
♥ ♥ ♥
mira went straight for the kos emek that bitch is dangerous 🤞🏼