Poles Apart

Chapter Forty-Two (1)

Arvi

"Taste this," Aryan orders, thrusting a cake batter covered spoon in my direction.

I swipe my index finger over the surface of the metal and lick it off my finger and grimace at the bitterness. "The cocoa's too strong," I tell him.

Aryan looks at the spoon for a second, as though it offended him and stomps back into the kitchen.

"Aryan?" I walk after him into the kitchen. "What's wrong?"

Aryan doesn't respond, he keeps the frown on his face as he adds sugar into the batter, not the powdered kind. I'm not the one that should be judging anyone's cooking or baking skills, but is that how it's done?

"Perry?" I ruffle his hair, only for him to slap my hand away, angrily.

I sigh. He's so lucky he's my younger brother. Who raised these spoilt brats?

"Aryan, kanna, what's all this anger for?" I implore, hoping he'll tell me at least this time, but he doesn't. The only sound in the kitchen is that of the electric hand beater that he uses to blend the sugar into the batter.

"I'm not angry," Aryan mutters once the sound of the beater dies down. He picks up another spoon, dips it into the batter and holds it out for me to taste.

Silently, I lick the spoon and nod, giving him the only response he wants.

Aryan looks up at me with his frown. "What does that nod mean?" he demands.

I sigh. Well, at least I know what Latha Atha means when she says he's just like me. "It tastes wonderful," I speak out. "Right amount of cocoa and sugar."

"Not too bitter?" he asks dubiously.

"No," I state, and turn, murmuring just loud enough for him to hear, "the only bitterness in here is coming from you."

"Hm?" Aryan sounds, threateningly.

I narrow my eyes at him. "What? I'm not allowed to say anything now?" I ask him. "Am I supposed to be scared of you? Huh?"

"Drama queen," he mumbles, shifting the batter out of the bowl into the mould.

"Oye," I say defensively. "Who's a drama queen?"

"You," he answers, not missing a beat.

Gosh, this guy's brutally honest.

"Do you want to pick up Rohan from school?" I ask him, looking at the time.

He looks towards the oven, as though telling me wordlessly that he's busy.

"The oven stops on its own," I point out to him. "And you can get those ingredients you wanted, to make the icing."

"Not icing, frosting," the know-it-all corrects, untying his apron. I'd never thought those aprons would ever come to use.

"Alright, sir," I mock. "Are you coming along, then?"

"Yes, yes, only because you're begging so much," he says, making my eyes go wide and my jaw fall.

"You brat!" I try to slap the back of his head, but the smartarse ducks just in time. "Come, Arvi Akka, you're getting late!" he calls as he runs out of the kitchen, his mood flipping completely.

~.~.~.~.~

"Why are you going to pick up Rohan from school?" Aryan asks, slipping into the passenger seat. "Have you given up on your economist job once and for all to become a driver?"

I raise a threatening brow at him. "Your Atha and Mama will have to sell all their assets to pay me if I work as their driver."

"What is this, then? Part-time gig?"