47

Aisha's studio was alive with music and movement. The room pulsed with bass-heavy beats, the dim lighting flashing in sync with the rhythm, casting streaks of blue, purple, and red across the walls. The scent of mixed drinks and faint traces of vanilla candles lingered in the air. People crowded around the small makeshift bar, laughing as they poured drinks, while others danced in the center of the room, their silhouettes shifting under the disco lights. Some had found spots on the couch, deep in conversation, drinks in hand, while a few hovered by the large windows, enjoying the cool Oxford air seeping in.

Aryan stood near the edge of the room, drink in hand, but his focus wasn't on the party. His eyes flickered toward the door every few seconds. Aisha, noticing, walked over with a knowing smirk.

"Looking for Tara?" she asked, crossing her arms.

Aryan exhaled sharply and nodded, not bothering to deny it.

Aisha hummed, taking a sip of her drink before tilting her head. "Do you want to know what I think?"

Aryan turned to her. "Do you know the whole story? What happened between Tara and me?"

Aisha nodded, her expression softening just a little.

Before she could answer, Aria approached, sliding into the conversation with a curious look. "Hey guys, all good?"

Aryan glanced at her and then back at Aisha. "Aria, do you know what happened between Star and me?"

Aria gave a slow nod. "Of course I do."

Aryan swallowed, glancing between the two. "And... what do you both think?"

Aisha sighed, shifting her weight. "I don't hate you anymore, if that's what you're asking. I know it wasn't entirely your fault." She paused. "But Tara's scared, Aryan. Scared to trust you again."

Aryan clenched his jaw and nodded. "I know." His voice was firm, determined. "But trust me—I'll make things right."

Aisha studied him for a moment before her eyes flickered toward the door. She smirked. "Here's your chance."

Aryan's head turned immediately.

There she was.

Tara stepped into the studio, the soft glow of the entrance light casting a golden hue on her skin. She wore olive green cargo pants that sat low on her waist, paired with a black cropped top that hugged her frame just right. Her long hair cascaded in effortless waves, her silver hoops glinting in the flashing lights.

Their eyes met.

For a moment, the sounds of the party faded. Aryan's grip on his drink tightened, his heartbeat picking up. Tara's gaze held his for just a second longer than necessary before she looked away, walking deeper into the room.

And just like that, the game had begun.

The party was in full swing now, laughter echoing through Aisha's studio as the group gathered in a loose circle, playing a mix of party games. Music thrummed in the background, blending with the occasional cheers and groans as dares were handed out. Drinks were passed around, and the atmosphere was warm, filled with the comfort of long friendships and the excitement of the night.

Rohan leaned forward, grinning as he spun an empty bottle in the center of the circle. It whirled on the floor, catching the flashing party lights as everyone held their breath, waiting to see who it would land on.

The bottle slowed... and stopped.

Right between Tara and Aryan.

Tara blinked, her body stiffening slightly, while Aryan smirked, amused. The group erupted into laughter and teasing whistles.

"Well, well," Aakash said, raising an eyebrow. "This should be interesting."

Rohan held up a deck of cards, each one with a dare written on it. "Pick one," he said, waving the stack in front of Aryan.

Aryan took his time, eyes flickering toward Tara before plucking a card from the middle. He flipped it over, read the words, and his smirk deepened.

"Seven minutes in heaven."

The room fell into a mix of gasps, chuckles, and exaggerated reactions.

Tara's eyes widened. "Wait, where is there even a wardrobe here?" she asked, trying to find a way out.

Aisha tapped her chin, pretending to think. "Hmm, good question. But guess what?" She grinned. "I have an empty cupboard. Haven't even unpacked fully—I'm lazy. So... go in there."

Tara sighed heavily while Aryan chuckled, clearly enjoying this more than he should.

"Come on, Tara," he teased, standing up and nodding toward the makeshift 'heaven.' "Let's not keep them waiting."

Tara shot him a look but followed, and as soon as they stepped inside, Aisha shut the door behind them with a dramatic flourish.

Inside the cramped cupboard, the air was thick with something unspoken. The muffled bass of the music outside seemed to pulse in time with Tara's racing heart. The dim light from a sliver of space between the doors barely illuminated Aryan's face, but she could still see the sharp intensity in his eyes.

She folded her arms, trying to ignore the way his presence felt too close, too familiar. "Let's just get this over with," she muttered.

Aryan smirked, his voice low. "Seven minutes alone, Star. You really think we can just stand here in silence?"

"Yes." She tried to look away.

"Come on."

Tara exhaled, rolling her eyes. "Fine. Question game. You start."

Aryan studied her for a second before asking, "What's the worst thing I ever did to you?"

Tara swallowed. She had expected something flirty, something easy—but of course, Aryan went straight for the heart.

"You pushed me away," she said, voice steadier than she felt. "Like I never meant anything."

His small smile faded.

"Tara—"

"My turn," she cut in. "Did you ever miss me, really miss me?"

Aryan's jaw clenched, his fingers flexing at his sides. "Every damn second."

Tara's breath caught. She hadn't been expecting that level of honesty.

He didn't break eye contact. "Do you miss me...?"

She hesitated. "W...what?"

Aryan stepped in just slightly, just enough to make her feel the shift in space. "Did you miss me, Star? Do you miss me?"

Tara inhaled sharply. "I—" She bit her lip, looking away. "Next question."

Aryan tilted his head, waiting.

Tara exhaled shakily. "When you see me now, what do you feel?"

His expression didn't change. But his voice did—low, rough, dangerous.

"That I still want you."

Tara's entire body went still.

Aryan didn't move, but his voice dipped even lower. "That I want to touch you."

She felt her pulse hammer in her throat. "Aryan—"

His gaze was locked on hers. "That no matter how much time has passed, you still drive me insane."

Her breath hitched. The cupboard suddenly felt too small, too hot.

"Your turn," he murmured.

Tara forced herself to think, to push past the way her body was reacting to him. "If I told you to leave right now, would you?"

Aryan didn't hesitate. "No."

Her lips parted slightly. He wasn't lying.

She shook her head. "Why?"

Aryan's fingers grazed her wrist—just the slightest touch, but it sent shivers up her spine. "Because I'm not making that mistake again."

Tara exhaled shakily, her entire body tensed. She needed to get out of here. "Next question," she whispered, desperate to break the moment.

Aryan's voice was softer now. "Do you still think about me?"

Tara's breath faltered. "I—"

She couldn't lie. Not when he was looking at her like that.

His hand, barely touching her wrist, slid up to brush against her palm, a slow deliberate touch.

She swallowed. "Yes."

His grip tightened slightly. "Then why are you still running?"

Tara's heartbeat was deafening. She didn't have an answer.

He took another step forward, closing the last bit of space between them. His breath was warm against her cheek, his presence all-consuming.

The space between them shrank. The air grew warmer, heavier.

Aryan reached out, brushing his fingers against her jaw. "I still want you, Tara," he whispered. "And I know you want me too."

Tara's pulse raced. She should push him away, she should stop this—but she didn't move.

His gaze flickered to her lips.

The air was charged, their bodies drawn together like magnets. His hand slid to her waist, fingers pressing lightly against the fabric of her crop top.

Tara's eyes fluttered shut. She felt his breath against her lips, the heat of his body against hers.

Their eyes locked. His gaze flickered to her lips.

She felt herself leaning in—just slightly, just enough.

Then—

The cupboard door swung open.

Tara jerked back, her breath uneven, heart racing as Aisha grinned at them.

"Time's up," she teased.

Tara barely heard her. She was still reeling from the fact that she had almost—almost—kissed Aryan.

And judging by the way he was looking at her now, jaw tight, eyes dark, he knew it too.

💜

Guys—please, like genuinely, silent readers? Come on? I'm literally doing my assignment and writing at the same time—one comment won't hurt. Please.