Chapter 1: After the Haze
Meera woke with a pounding headache, the remnants of last night’s party clinging to her like a bad perfume. The hostel room was a mess—empty beer cans, crumpled paper cups, and a vague memory of her own voice slurring something embarrassing to Kabir. She groaned, burying her face in her pillow. ‘What the hell did I say to him?’ she muttered, her mind racing through foggy snippets of laughter, music, and his stupidly charming smirk.
A knock at the door jolted her upright. ‘Meera, you alive in there?’ Kabir’s voice, smooth and teasing, cut through the silence. She froze, her heart doing an annoying little flip. ‘Barely,’ she shot back, dragging herself to the door and cracking it open. He stood there, all tousled dark hair and casual confidence, holding a bottle of water and a smirk that could melt steel. ‘Thought you might need this after last night’s... performance.’
She snatched the bottle, narrowing her eyes. ‘If you’re here to gloat about me making a fool of myself, save it. I don’t remember half of it.’ Kabir leaned against the doorframe, his gaze flickering with amusement. ‘Oh, you were memorable. Something about me being ‘unfairly hot for a nerd.’ Direct quote.’
Meera’s face burned. ‘I did not say that.’ She crossed her arms, trying to look intimidating despite the fact she was in an oversized T-shirt and mismatched socks. ‘You did,’ he countered, stepping closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. ‘But don’t worry, I won’t hold it against you. Yet.’
She rolled her eyes, but the air between them crackled, charged with something she couldn’t quite name. ‘You’re insufferable,’ she snapped, though her lips twitched into a reluctant smile. Kabir chuckled, his eyes lingering on her just a second too long. ‘And you’re a mess. Get cleaned up. I’m not letting you hide in here all day.’
An hour later, they were in the hostel common room, sprawled on a ratty couch with textbooks they weren’t reading. Meera felt hyper-aware of every inch between them, the way his knee brushed hers when he shifted. ‘So,’ she started, desperate to break the tension, ‘did I do anything else mortifying last night, or was calling you hot the highlight?’
Kabir grinned, leaning back with an arm draped over the couch, dangerously close to her shoulder. ‘You tried to dance on a table. I had to drag you down before you broke something. Or someone.’ Meera laughed despite herself, the sound sharp and unguarded. ‘You’re my hero now, huh? Should I start calling you Superman?’
‘Only if I get to see you in a cape,’ he fired back, his tone dipping into something suggestive. Her breath caught, and she shot him a look—half warning, half dare. ‘Careful, Kabir. I bite back.’
His eyes darkened, a flicker of something raw passing through them. ‘I’m counting on it.’ The room seemed to shrink, the space between them buzzing with unspoken heat. Meera felt her pulse quicken, her skin prickling as his gaze dropped to her lips. She wasn’t some blushing damsel; she was Meera fucking Sharma, and she didn’t back down. ‘You’re playing a dangerous game,’ she warned, her voice low, steady, even as her body betrayed her with a rush of warmth.
Kabir leaned in, just enough that she could feel the heat of him, his breath teasing her ear. ‘Maybe I like danger.’ Her fingers curled into the couch cushion, resisting the urge to close the gap. She could almost taste the tension, thick and electric, as her mind screamed at her to either slap him or pull him closer. And then—
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