Beautiful Girl

Part Eleven

Jet lag is a bitch.
It's one at night and he is still wide awake, staring at the bloody ceiling. His body thinks it's morning, habits of his time zone that will take another day or two to break.
He hasn't had a chance to talk with Khushi in twenty hours and he is getting antsy.
Should he call her?
It is probably around six in the morning in India. Is she awake?
What if she's sleeping and-
He is already tapping on the top entry in his recents list.
It doesn't even ring completely once and she has already picked up the call. The tense ball of anxiety at the base of his spine eases and disappears.
"Are you at your hotel?" She asks before he can get a word in.
"Hello to you too, sweetheart."
"Yeah, yeah. Hi. So, are you at the hotel?" She questions impatiently and he rolls his eyes at her enthusiasm.
"Yes, I got in around nine."
"So, can you see it yet?" She asks eagerly and he let's out a laugh.
"I have literally seen it thousands of times, Khushi. I swear I will have a video chat with you once the morning breaks and you can see the Eiffel in the background."
"You witnessing it loads of times doesn't make it any less fascinating, Arnav," She grumbles. "Eiffel's the only thing I am looking forward to these days. And you," She adds.
She sounds exhausted.
"Are you okay?"
"I can't be anything less than okay, Arnav. Not now when you're not here and I don't have anyone to turn to," She confesses softly and it fills him with warmth, her admission that she trusts him enough to rely on him, or maybe she said it to distract him  from the fact that something is wrong.
"Khushi, what is it? What aren't you telling me?" It hasn't even been twenty four hours completely since his departure. What kinda stink have Guptas made this time around?
"It's nothing I can't handle, Arnav. Stop fretting. I am fine," She sighs and he knows, she is anything but fine.
But he can't do anything from here, and if she's not telling him, then probably it's not serious enough.
Five more days and she's gonna be free from the grips of Payal's family.
"Okay, I will believe you for now," He says and yawns.
"You haven't slept a wink?"
"Nope, sweetheart. I can't sleep, no matter how hard I try," He whines and she giggles.
"Okay. I am not good at this, but I am going to tell you a story, and you're going to sleep at the end of it. Deal?"
"Deal!"
"So, once upon a time, a kickass warrior goddess... "
He smiles and falls asleep in minutes, phone pressed between his ear and the pillow...

~~

"Can you see it?" He asks as he moves his tab to the side.
"Damn. It looks pretty," She sighs. "How does it feel to watch it up close?"
"It's steel? I mean, what am I supposed to feel?" He hedges and she scowls through the screen.
"To look at Paris is like looking at romance given form. Man, I am gonna walk the fucking streets and stare at the architecture in awe inspired reverence. One day," She whispers.
"I will take you to Paris after your Boards. How does that sound?" Her face falls and he realises, belatedly, what must his offer sound like.
Who it sounds like.
"I don't promise things I don't mean, sweetheart," He starts softly. "I am not-"
"I know. I know you're not a boy, saying things just for the sake of saying and never meaning them. I know that, Arnav."
"Are you done staring at the hunk of metal? Can I turn around now?"
"Of course, you can," She delivers with a smile so sweet that it makes his words die in his throat and erases his line of thought completely.
"Arnav?" She says after a moment or two. "The video ain't paused, is it?"
"Hm hmm."
"Arnav!"
"You're beautiful," He admits out loud, dazed and under her thrall.
She throws her head back and laughs and it looks and sounds exactly like the descriptions from the novels Arnav used to make fun of.
His life has become a chicklit and more often than not, it feels like he's the heroine.
"You're handsome too, sweetheart," She says, tongue trapped in between teeth as she smiles and he feels at the top of the bloody world.
It doesn't fucking matter that he spent his morning going toe to toe with the Operations head of the Predateur and then got chewed up by Di for not being quick enough about the whole thing.
It also doesn't matter that he has only been speaking French since he landed two days ago and his head kinda hurts because French is a demanding mistress and she is ruthless when it comes to people who don't live, breath and love it all the time.
Khushi is smiling at him and that's all that matters.
"How much are you scoring on your tests?" He asks, trying to pull himself together.
"More than 650," She says, smirk perfect on her pink mouth.
"Then you're a veritable genius, sweetheart."
"That I know, Arnav. I-"
"Khushi ji! Khushiji, where are you?"
He sees her face fall and fear creep into her eyes.
"Khushi who is it?"
"I will call you soon, Arnav. Go watch Arc de Triomphe for me, will you?" She tries for her usual bravado, but it falls flat when her lips tremble and her eyes keep stealing looks behind her back.
Before he can object or enquire about what or who has put that particular look on her face, she has already hung up.
It sounded like a man.
But men don't scare Khushi. She chews them and throws out their bones after she's done. She's fire and blade that goes hand in hand and that feeling of anxiety that accompanied him to Paris returns hundred fold.