"You are my guinea pig," I declared, handing him a plate of biryani. It came out looking so good, but the taste...eh, I had no idea.

Jose uncle swallowed hard, face going a little pale before he began to gag. I cackled, holding onto the kitchen island for balance. "Is it that bad?!"

"It's so edible I'm gagging," he said, eyes tearing up. I handed him a glass of water and he gulped that down like his life depended on it. "I'm being serious. At least it's edible."

At least it's edible, he said. I laughed again, covering my mouth. Oh my god, I was horrible at this. I went to take out another plate when he shook his head. "No, no. Take mine."

I snorted and did what he asked. I spooned rice into my mouth and cringed; the rice was hard and the chicken tasted like bland rubber. My jaw was starting to ache as I chewed and chewed.

And chewed.

"I can't," I mumbled through a mouthful. I grabbed a tissue and spat in it. "How did you swallow that?"

"I tried very hard." I shook my head and stared at the large pot I used. I was going to be wasting so much food. Bad food, but still food. "Don't worry. This was your first try, yes? You'll get better the more you practice."

The door opened and closed. Romir. Well there's go the fun and peace, I thought, taking the plate of food and dumping it into the bin.

"Romir," called Jose uncle, going over to him as he walked into the kitchen. "Arshia made some chicken biryani." I snapped my head toward him as if someone had cracked my neck. I gave him a look that I hoped read 'don't you dare' but he completely ignored me. "You want to try some?"

Romir looked at me, then at the big pot of food behind me chilling on the stove, then looked away. "I already ate," he said, "but you two go ahead." He manoeuvred around Jose uncle and headed through the curtain, disappearing behind it.

I frowned.

Jose uncle scratched his head. "Don't take it to heart." He didn't bother elaborating.

***

It was the night we were going to the pub. Apparently Romir was cool with going because he'd asked if I wasn't getting ready. So I did.

My skin broke out into goosebumps and looked out the balcony window. "Is it cold outside, do you think?"

"I heard it was going to rain," Jose uncle affirmed.

Crap. I headed back into the room and grabbed my cardigan from my suitcase when I saw something poking out from under the mini shelf near Romir's side of the bed. It was on the floor.

Shimmying on the black woollen cardigan, I walked over and bent down. It was a worn, square-shaped photograph? I didn't know. I picked it up and turned it around and it actually was a photo.

A photo of an unfamiliar girl with straight black hair and deep-set cat-like eyes with thick winged liner that I envied. She was standing next to a younger looking Romir.

Actually they both looked super young and she looked like she was even shorter than me. They had their arms around each other, smiling into the camera; it looked like a selfi—

All of a sudden it was snatched from my hands and I whipped around, my heart beating in my ears. Romir glared down at me, expression livid and the hazel in his eyes darkening to a near black.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" he asked. Uh oh. He was definitely mad.

"Sorry," I said, knowing I was in the wrong. I got up. "It was on the floor and I picked it up—"

He stepped so close to me, I had to lean back a little. I flailed to grab ahold of the shelf now behind me.

"Don't touch my shit. Do you understand?"

"Again, I'm sorry. I didn't know it was something personal." He pushed me aside, not roughly, but enough for me to get the hint. I moved away and he opened the drawer I was leaning against, placing the photo inside.

Without another growl or glare or look my way, he walked past me. I didn't realise my shoulders were tensely brought up to my ears until he'd left the room. I hadn't meant to pry, not intentionally.

Seeing the way he looked at me like I was a disgusting piece of filth that he couldn't stand made me tremble. That was probably what Varun thought of me, too. I mean, why else would he have done that to me?

The energy of hanging out and getting buzzed had disappeared and my movements were much more sluggish now that that had happened. I adjusted my floral top before securing my mom jeans with a belt.

I met Romir at the front door and scrutinised his outfit. He looked like he was going to a sleepover, not a pub; dressed in sweats and a tight black t-shirt that clung to his figure, like he couldn't be bothered getting dressed up.

Even the top of his wild, wavy hair was messy like he'd rolled up out of bed and only just raked his fingers through.

As if it wasn't important enough.

You're not important, stupid, I told myself. There was no reason for him to get dressed up and pretend like everything was okay when he was probably annoyed at me and heartbroken about what his ex did to him still.

The only difference probably was he wasn't trying to move on and I was.

Or was I?

"Why are you dressed like a homeless man?" Jose uncle voiced my thoughts. I wasn't in the mood to snicker.

"I'm not going to impress anyone." He turned in my general direction and said, "Let's go." He ripped open the door and shut it closed in my face. I turned to Jose uncle who was peering at us.

"We'll be back in a few hours," I said, lifting my hand up in a wave. I shut the door only to be face to face with Susanne's husband who was coming up the stairs. Romir had gone past him, acknowledging him with a jerk of his chin.

"Going out on a date?" he asked with a grin.

Gross.

"Something like that," I said.

"Have fun."

I nodded and smiled at him before hurrying down the stairs, trying to keep up with Romir. We were silent as we walked beside each other but instead of going out the front door, we went out a side door that led to a garage. Where was he going? I followed behind with slow, hesitant footsteps.

He was walking toward a black sporty looking motorcycle. The same one that I had seen him nearly crash into that old lady with.

He swung his leg onto his bike, straddling the sides. He placed his helmet on his head and adjusted the bike so that it wasn't leaning to the side anymore.

"Um, I can't go on that," I said, backing away from it. He revved the engine, muffling my words. A huge lump formed in my throat and no amount of swallowing would fix it. He slapped down the shield of his helmet, creating a barrier between him and me.

"Either get on or stay behind."

What the fuck? "Can't we go on a rickshaw or something?"

"I'm not wasting money on a rickshaw when I can drive."

Seriously? Actually no, he had a good point but I had never rode on a motorcycle before. Scooters, yes, but those were different. I wasn't about to start with someone who didn't know how to drive at a normal speed.

"Okay then, motorcycle it is," I mumbled. "Do you have a spare helmet?"

"No."

Wait what? I had to hold in everything to make sure I wasn't going to throw a punch at him. "If you don't have a helmet then how am I going to come with you?"

Keep your voice level, Arshia. Don't get mad at him.

"Get on the bike without a helmet."

"That's dangerous."

"Do you want to come or not?" Ah, so he was going to go regardless of whether I was going with him or not. I muttered some curses under my breath and sat on the back of him. I made sure that I didn't touch him by holding onto the grab rail behind me. I glared daggers at the back of his head.

He revved the engine again and the bike rolled forward at a slow lull toward the gate; he flashed a card against the little pole and the gate moved up. But as soon as it did, he sped the bike forward without a pause. I bit down on my tongue to make sure I wasn't screaming.

I tried to look out the views, focusing all my attention on the smells and the views that were completely different to the smells and the quiet views back home. There were no honking or a bunch of people walking about.

I had to admit, the smells were much better here than back home; it was too quiet there but at least here something was always happening. No one would ever feel alone here.

My eyes teared up the more I was looking out without blinking, my hair being whipped back at a force that made me think they were going to be tugged by the roots; without the helmet, I felt like I was being exposed to pebbles and wind in the air.

I had to close my eyes the rest of the way, feeling like my body was being pulled out of the bike as the engine revving became louder.

If he didn't stop soon I was either going to fall off or I was actually going to end up holding on to him, the latter which I definitely did not want.

What felt like a few hours later, he finally came to a rest, my hair a ratty hens nest that I could see showing in the reflection. My hair was frizzy and spread around my face and shoulders like someone had been rubbing balloons against my hair.

Hastily placing my hair back into place with my fingers, I got off and waited for Romir to do the same. We headed inside the warm pub, my shivering from the wind stopping immediately. There were hoots and whistles and I knew then that it was definitely Romir's colleagues.

I turned. Pravin—the guy that invited me—waved his arm back and forth in the air. He was sitting on the far end of the bar table with a couple other of his mates. My stomach loosened from the tight hold that my intestines had. Even though he was signalling us to come over to him, he shimmied away from his seat and rushed over to us.

He held out his hand and shook mine. I had to force my cheeks to stay lifted so that I wasn't grimacing. My jaw was hurting so much.

"We were sitting at the table but I think we should get a booth." He counted all of us. "Yeah, there're too many of us."

Romir gestured to the booth at the back. "There's space over there."

Some of the others came and gave Romir a one armed hug and slapped his hand in a handshake that dudes did. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

"What are you wearing?" someone asked. After we slid into our designated booth, Pravin took that time to survey Romir.

"You're still dressing up like a hobo even after getting married?"

"Marriage doesn't solve all problems, contrary to popular belief," he drawled. I painted a smile on my face that sat permanently. It was painful. As they ordered drinks, I was on edge, looking out the window that gave way to scenery.

My phone dinged in my butt pocket and I forgot that it was even there. I pressed it against my chest, thanking God that the wind when I was sitting on the bike didn't take my phone out of my jean pocket.

It was a text message from Varun:

Varun: I know you're not home. Why are you running from me?

Okay, I was confused. Didn't he say they were staying somewhere else until things died down? Why was he at my house? What the hell? My fingers itched to type something super rude to him, like I had done with Anjali.

But I had so much self control and I wasn't about to let it go now.

Hot red anger burst through me. Don't do it, don't do it. My hand shook. No, I have to do it. My thumbs flew across the phone screen.

Me: I'm not scared of you. I don't need to be running from you, dumbarse.

As soon as I pressed the send button, though, I knew that that was the wrong thing to do.

Well, my so-called self control was apparently nonexistent.

Regret whirled around in my head and I clenched my eyes shut. I wanted to cry and scream all at the same time because I knew that this is exactly what he wanted — he wanted a rise out of me and I gave him that.

"You okay?" pressed Pravin. Everyone was staring at me. I cleared my throat and nodded.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

"Then drink up."

As the bottles and beer jugs were placed down on the table, I grabbed one and chugged it down, letting the liquid run down my throat and out of my mouth. I heard Pravin hooting and the others cheering me on.

God, I was so weak. My heart still ached and throbbed within my chest. I didn't want to admit it but I knew I still longed for him.

I could only imagine that him and his best-friend-turned-fiance laughing at me and kissing each other, lounging in their PJ's, watching movies and eating Chinese food — doing all the things that we used to do.

They had more history. It was inevitable. Maybe I stole him from her, and not the other way around.

Varun's betrayal was all I cared about.

Three drinks later and I was out. Not out-out, but I was buzzed completely and my whole vision was blurry. I climbed over someone and shoved a woman with short dyed auburn standing in my way. "Move, bitch," I slurred.

"Oi, what the fuck?!" She whirled around and shoved me back.

I don't remember anything after that.