Monsoon Wedding Fever

‘Not really,’ Dhruv said, and after a little pause he continued very formally with a shuttered look on his face that she remembered from college. ‘I don’t believe in explanations, Riya—they always end up sounding like excuses. But I do apologise. You deserved a lot better from me, and I let you down.’

The temptation to say more was almost irresistible, but his reasons for dumping her were too closely linked to the crisis his family had been going through at that time. The old habits of reticence and concealment died hard—even after so much time. It seemed preferable that she think him fickle and irresponsible rather than know the real reason.

‘I’d better join the others—Gaurav looked like he needed help with the food.’ While Riya stared at him in disbelief, he turned around and went out of the room, shutting the door gently but firmly behind him.

‘So much for waiting half a lifetime to figure out what the hell happened,’ Riya said out loud to the closed door.

The sense of frustration was so strong she felt like screaming. Twelve years since they’d parted, and explanations still didn’t seem to be among Dhruv Malhotra’s strong points. In a way, she felt worse than she would have if he hadn’t apologised—his getting angry or avoiding the topic would have made her feel that it really bothered him deep down, but the empty token of an apology relegated the whole college episode to an unfortunate but not very important incident in his distant past.

Suddenly furious, she picked up a little ceramic troll from her bedside table and hurled it across the room. It hit the wall and smashed into pieces with a most satisfying crash.

Her door opened a little, and Gaurav poked his head inside cautiously. ‘All OK?’ he asked.

Riya looked up and gave him a tight little smile. ‘Yes. Your cousin is the...the most infuriating man I’ve met in my life—not that I care!’ She didn’t want to let Gaurav know quite how upset she was. He seemed to be fairly close to Dhruv, and given his general ineptitude at keeping his mouth shut the chances of him letting something slip were high.

Gaurav’s pleasant face was creased with worry. ‘He’s leaving tomorrow, but he’ll be there at the wedding. You sure it’s OK?’

‘I’ll avoid him,’ Riya said. And when Gaurav’s frown didn’t go away she said, ‘Relax. I won’t smash his face in during the ceremony. Or will it be simpler if I don’t come?’

Gaurav’s expression changed and he came in swiftly, sitting down next to her and saying earnestly, ‘I wouldn’t be getting married if you hadn’t helped sort out things with Madhulika’s parents. If anyone needs to skip the wedding, it’ll be Dhruv.’

Sudden tears came to Riya’s eyes, and she fumbled for Gaurav’s hand and squeezed it hard. He’d been her best friend for many years now, and he’d been miserable when Madhulika’s parents had refused to let their daughter marry him. They’d picked out a Bengali bridegroom for her, and had had no time for the brash, burly Punjabi man their daughter had chosen. Riya had played the go-between for some months, gradually bringing them round to the idea, and Gaurav had been absurdly grateful ever since.

‘Don’t be silly,’ she said. ‘He’s family—you can’t tell him not to come. I promise I’ll behave.’

‘Come on out and join us, then,’ Gaurav said, gently tugging her to her feet. ‘I’m setting up the karaoke thing on the TV. Don’t bother about Dhruv. Every unmarried girl in the room is making a beeline for him, and he’ll be too busy fighting them off to bother you.’

Riya frowned as she followed Gaurav out. He was right—Dhruv was knee-deep in women, and in spite of herself she couldn’t suppress a little flare of annoyance.

* * *

It was almost three in the morning when the last people left. Chutki had left for her friend’s place at eleven, and Gaurav was dozing on the sofa. Riya started clearing up—there were beer cans and empty disposable plates and glasses scattered all over the room. Dhruv began to help, stacking boxes of half-eaten pizza and carrying them into the kitchen. She silently handed him a few garbage disposal bags, and picked up a broom and mop to clean the floor.

‘Won’t the maid do that tomorrow?’

‘The place will be overrun by cockroaches by then,’ Riya said. ‘Armies of them come crawling in under the door if there’s the slightest bit of food lying around.’

Gaurav looked at them sleepily. ‘A cockroach can live for a week without its head,’ he informed them, and fell asleep quite suddenly, his mouth wide open.

Both Dhruv and Riya cracked up, the tension of the evening dissolving in gales of laughter.

‘Let me get him to his room,’ Dhruv said finally, and putting his arm around Gaurav, he half dragged him to bed.

Gaurav’s room was a mess as well, but he decided not to do anything about it other than clear a couple of ashtrays off the bed before he headed back to the living room.

He was still undecided about Riya. One part of him felt that he should leave things as they were. The other would sell his soul to get within touching distance of her. His lips twisted as he acknowledged that, at present, the second was definitely winning.

After Riya had rejoined the party he’d spent the evening watching her unobtrusively as she circulated around the room, laughing and joking with people she obviously knew well. Little things had caught his attention and held it. The way she threw her head back when she laughed, exposing the long, perfectly shaped column of her throat. The way the silky material of her top clung to her body as she moved. The curve of her lush red lips betraying her amusement as she mock-frowned at something Gaurav said to her. He had never been so aware of a woman in his life. And now that they were finally alone in the room together it took every last ounce of his self-control to stop himself from dragging her into his arms and crushing her lovely mouth under his.

Oblivious to the direction Dhruv’s thoughts were taking, Riya finished clearing the room and went to draw the curtains, groaning as she saw more mess on the balcony.

Dhruv came up behind her. ‘I’ll take care of that,’ he said gently. ‘Go to bed.’

‘Why’re you being so nice?’ she demanded. Her voice came out sounding a little more petulant than she’d intended, and Dhruv’s lips curved into his trademark sexy smile that started slowly at his mouth and went up all the way to his eyes. Riya’s insides promptly turned to mush, in spite of her head telling her firmly to get a grip.

‘We could forget college and try to be friends again,’ he said, the words coming out before he had a chance to think. ‘We’ll be at the wedding for three days. We could use that time to catch up, get to know each other better?’

Riya closed her eyes briefly. It was such a tempting thought—getting to know Dhruv all over again. It would be stupid to deny that she was still strongly attracted to him—only she didn’t know if he felt the same way, or if he was just trying to make amends for having hurt her earlier.

He was still looking at her expectantly. She forced a smile and said, as formally as she could, ‘I guess we could try. I’m sorry if I’ve been less than gracious, Dhruv, but it’s been a shock seeing you again. I thought I’d put all that nonsense from college behind me. Evidently it’s still bothering me somewhere at some level, or I wouldn’t have got so worked up when I saw you again.’

‘I haven’t managed to put it behind me, either,’ Dhruv said softly. It seemed vital that he convince her to trust him—just a little. He took her hand and squeezed it gently. ‘I don’t think I expressed myself very well when we spoke earlier, but I truly am sorry I treated you the way I did. If you can forgive me for being such an idiot, let’s spend some time together when we’re in Kolkata. I swear I’ve improved with age.’

Riya looked into the familiar golden eyes for a second, and looked away hastily.

‘OK,’ she said, drawing her hand out of his warm clasp and brushing it clumsily across her forehead. ‘I...I think I’ll get to bed now. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

The last lot of empty beer cans cleared away, Dhruv gave the kitchen a cursory glance before snapping off the light. Riya’s reaction bothered him more than he cared to admit. Till the day they’d split up he had been used to Riya’s adoration—she had concealed it under a layer of sassiness, but it had always been there. He hadn’t expected it to remain, of course—not after so many years, and definitely not after the way they’d parted—but it was still a shock, looking into Riya’s eyes and seeing wariness and distrust in their lovely depths. She was perfectly polite to him—only the genuine warmth that showed through when she spoke to Gaurav and even to Chutki was missing.

Regret and frustrated desire churned through him. Without realising it he’d had Riya captured in a time-warp in his mind, forever seventeen, forever willing and forever his. Rationally he knew that she’d have changed, but the reality of not having her come running when he beckoned was difficult to deal with.

He was about to go into the room Chutki had been using the night before when Riya’s door opened again. She came out, wearing a white oversized T-shirt and little cotton shorts that left most of her long brown legs bare.

‘I need a bottle of water,’ she muttered, brushing past him to go into the kitchen and opening the fridge. Her throat was parched, and she hadn’t been able to get to sleep, otherwise the last thing she’d have wanted was to run into Dhruv again. ‘Great—someone drank all the cold water.’

She straightened up, and she looked so adorable with her wavy hair tousled around her sleepy face that Dhruv couldn’t help pulling her close, all his good resolutions lost. She melted in his arms, closing her eyes as Dhruv trailed a finger down her cheek. His body tightened as he saw her reaction to him, and he lowered his lips slowly onto hers.

Dhruv’s lips felt reassuringly familiar and wildly exciting at the same time, and Riya heard herself moan softly as she strained her body closer to his. The small part of her brain that was still functioning kept telling her that she was being stupid, only her body found it impossible to stop.

‘You’re so beautiful,’ Dhruv said thickly, as his lips travelled down her neck and lower.

His hands were slipping under the loose T-shirt when Riya’s brain finally kicked in.

‘No,’ she said. ‘No, Dhruv...please, I need time to think.’ And, grabbing the nearest bottle of not cold drinking water, she turned away and almost ran back to her room.

Riya was shaking as she sank down onto her bed. Another minute and they’d have been making love on the kitchen floor, oblivious of Gaurav sleeping in the next room. Or maybe that was just her. Going by past experience, Dhruv had probably had all his wits around him, however carried away he’d seemed. He’d probably thought it out fully—how they’d move to her room, make love the whole night through, and the next day he could pretend that nothing had happened. And, being the colossal fool that she was, she’d almost let it happen.

Slow tears began sliding down her cheeks. Of all things, she hated feeling vulnerable the most, and with Dhruv around all her carefully built armour was melting away.

Dhruv slowly turned off the lights in his room and got into bed. Kissing Riya had been a mistake—especially when she’d just started warming up to him. But it had been impossible to resist. The attraction between them had flared up as hot and sweet as it had so many years ago.

Dhruv had had several girlfriends since, and had thought he was fairly serious about at least two of them. It had been different with Riya, though. She was the first girl he’d ever kissed, one rain-soaked day at her home when her parents were away. Twelve years later he still remembered the feel of her eager, inexperienced lips under his, and her young body straining to be closer to him. It had taken every last ounce of sanity for him to leave her with just a kiss. She’d pouted and tried to pull him back, but he’d left anyway, muttering a hasty excuse. He hadn’t trusted himself near her again, telling himself that he didn’t need the added complication of a girlfriend in his already messy life.

He wasn’t sure he wanted the complication in his life even now. He’d been thinking of settling down—his parents were pressing him to marry, and while he was cynical about their motives the idea made sense. None of his earlier girlfriends were the kind he’d want to marry—in the last twelve years he’d never met a woman he could imagine spending the rest of his life with. Which was one of the reasons why he’d even contemplated an arranged marriage. It had worked for several of his friends who lived overseas and didn’t end up meeting too many Indian girls. Falling in love was a combination of hormones and stupidity in his view—his parents had supposedly married for love, and they had the worst relationship he’d ever seen.

After meeting Riya again, however, the thought of an arranged marriage seemed less appealing. The closest he’d come to falling in love had been with her. In the intervening years he’d tried to dismiss the episode as a piece of hormone-driven madness, but he knew it wasn’t quite so simple. There was something between them that was very real, and while he didn’t believe in love he had felt the absence of that spark in all his subsequent relationships.

* * *