Chapter Seven

The next day, in the morning, as he gets into Ivan's car, he expects a greeting - a hello, good morning, - or an apology for not replying to his texts. But all he gets is a little wave of the hand, and a straight face hiding behind sunglasses. Riyaan doesn't know how to react or if he should say anything - bring up their conversation but some part of him pleads don't do it.

After some more awkward battle inside his head, Riyaan takes out his phone and pretends to be hooked on something on his screen. In the next few minutes, he is taking in the news - PM Modi has addressed the nation, unemployed engineers growing in the country, celebrities giving perfect responses to getting trolled for plastic surgery, and then a man finds cockroaches in McDonald's. The last one almost makes him gag.

'Anything interesting there?' Ivan asks, nodding towards the phone on Riyaan's hand.

'Not really.'

'You seem engrossed,' Ivan says again.

'Not anymore,' he says as he pockets his phone. At least they aren't in an awkward zone anymore.

'How's the renovation at work coming along?' Riyaan asks, hoping for a conversation.

'It will take time.'

As distracted as Ivan might seem, he didn't have to ask him to stop at his work, as Ivan does it so well as if he has been driving him to work for years.

'See you in the evening?' Riyaan says, reminding himself of the words Ivan spoke the day before.

'Sure.'

And he drives off like a fire brigade. 'Bye-eee,' Riyaan listens to himself as he says.

*  *  *

In the evening, when he gets to Kris', he finds Ivan in a sore mood even more, barely acknowledging his presence. It stresses him out more but also some sort of relief thinking Ivan's mood doesn't arise from what he has sent the day before. He cannot be that mad about some text.

But it's eating him away. They were talking yesterday, everything was alright. Is it about his work? Must be work because he seems so busy today mostly on his laptop and talking with Preet.

'Here, I downloaded it for you,' Kris says, placing Riyaan's phone on the table. He sees the Tinder icon on the screen.

'Downloaded what?' Preet asks, eyes distracted from work files.

They sit in the same room, Riyaan has joined them after he comes from work.

'Why?' Riyaan asks.

'Tinder, Riyaan is looking for love,' Kris replies to Preet.

'And because Tinder is the best place to go, right?'

'No, but he can be lucky.'

'I know, but Riyaan, I would encourage you to be a little careful though.'

'Oh, I am not really gonna use it,' Riyaan says, feeling small and shy and peeking a glance at Ivan who is listening to the conversation intently. He wished Kris didn't do that while they were with Ivan.

'You will, of course.' Kris says. 'Ivan, what do you think?'

He glares at Kris, hoping he gets the hint to shut up about it.

'About love? Or Tinder?' Ivan gets his eyes back busy on his tablet now.

Kris considers him for a moment, and Riyaan wonders if he too is thinking why Ivan suddenly makes himself busy with his work.

'About Riyaan.'

Beneath the table, Riyaan finds Kris' thigh and pinches him hard, intending to hurt. Kris swats his hand away quickly.

'Sure, he can get a date easily.'

'A date??'

'Yeah,' Ivan says, taking his eyes off work and directing towards Kris. They are talking about him, yet he is not even looking at him. 'Why? How many does he need?'

*   *   *

On the drive back home, Ivan asks him if he is hungry and likes to have something to which Riyaan answers negatively. Towards the end, Ivan's mood is affecting his mood too. And that's all they exchange until he gets out of the car, but Ivan waits until they say goodnight.

When it's finally time to sleep, he takes out some old magazines to read and distract himself. But then he checks his phone if he might have missed a notification the day before, and Ivan is unfriendly because apparently he didn't reply.

No notifications. Just his last message.

And before he can stop himself, he starts writing.

Riyaan: are we okay?

He stops to contemplate some but sends it anyway. It's the next 20 minutes of no sound in his phone that makes him sick to his stomach. But then Ivan calls, setting his body on fire.

'Hi,' Riyaan says, the tone forced to be casual and nonchalant.

'Hey, what's this mean.. "are we okay?" '

'um.. I don't know, you tell me. Are you okay?'

'I am alright. And you?'

'Yes. You just didn't seem like usual today, which is why I wanted to check on you.'

'About that... work is really busy, and I didn't sleep so well last night.'

'Something bothering you?'

He hears a - what it sounds like - long sigh.

'Yeah, something like that. But I'm okay now. So when I'm okay and you're okay, does that mean we are okay .. because I'm clearly not understanding what's that supposed to mean?'

'It's just..since we were not talking, and I thought maybe I did or said something -'

'Oh, I see. No. It's not you. We are okay.'

And Riyaan believes him because he says it so sweetly.

'Great,'

'So, had your dinner already?'

'Not really, I'll just prepare..'

'Is that famous chilli lemon chowmein?'

'No, I'll just cook some rice and veggies. But I don't think lemon chowmein is really that famous..'

'You don't think so?' Crackling voices come through, what sounds like Ivan laughing. He has no idea why he is laughing but Ivan's laugh makes him feel a lot better than before. 'You know, no restaurant or hotel in this city has that recipe?'

'Um, no. I didn't, actually.' Truth is, Riyaan has never ordered that recipe, and the funny thing is, he has never ordered food in his life ever. He either went out to his favourite dhaba and always ordered roti and dal, or he cooked himself. Chilli chow mein with lemon is a recipe that he had when he was in the orphanage, where their cook prepared the dish. And until just right now, he thought that's the official name.

'So, yesterday, I couldn't find it in any app. I call restaurants that are not partnered with the app too.'

'Oh, you really shouldn't have,' Riyaan says, slapping a hand over his temple. You stupid! He berates himself.

'I called my friends at hotel management, and none of them knows what this recipe is.. so, I looked on the internet, and another friend of mine said he might know what it is..'

'So, at last, where have you found it?' Riyaan asks, trying to show that he is as interested in the story, but deep down, he's cringing hard.

'No, that's... you should tell me first, was the food okay?'

'Yeah, it was good. Better than I have tasted before. Did you ask a 5-star hotel to cook it then?' Riyaan jokes.

Ivan laughs.

'Oh my god, you totally did. Didn't you? That's why it took so long?'

'No. I did.'

'You did what.'

'I cooked your food.'

'You?'

'Yeah, me.'

'... didn't have to, really. I could have eaten just about anything.' He tries to stifle some part of him that's dancing with joy right now.

'Food is my passion, I don't like when someone wants to eat something and I haven't heard of it or cannot cook it. When the restaurant says they don't have that, it gives me even more motivation to do it. I - ' There's a pause. 'Riyaan, sorry, my father is calling. I'll have to call you back.'

'That's okay. See you.'

'Bye'

Riyaan takes a long sigh.

Okay, so, Ivan didn't cook his food because he likes him or something. He just...likes food. Not him.

Tough competition.

When he is finally ready to sleep, his phone chimes a notification. Seeing the sender, he forgets all about his stressful morning.

Ivan: Tinder is for hookups BTW. Unofficially, at least in this city.

Riyaan: i do know that.

Ivan: It's better to fuck someone you know rather than a stranger. And safer.

Whoa!

They are talking 'sex' now?

Riyaan would have never thought Ivan could be so blunt. He laughs. It's already making him funny and giddy inside thinking of the reply, and it gets funnier as he thumbs down on his screen. He wants to send an emoji but nothing fits perfectly.

Riyaan cannot let the chance go - the chance to tease him.

Riyaan: are you offering

Riyaan: ?

He is taking a risk by sending that, but he has a feeling Ivan doesn't exactly dislike him. At this point, he doesn't fear that Ivan will be angry. He probably knows that he likes to joke or flirt.

But for a few minutes, he doesn't get a reply, and he starts to panic again.

Does it mean Ivan will stop responding again? Has he become Nancy?

Why cannot he stop being a flirt?

Ivan: If you are up for it.

Wait, what?

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