Dear You, We're Just Friends.

14- Twirling, Swirling, Whirling.

"Hey there, beautiful!"
Samaira didn't bother responding, not even glancing in the direction of the source of sound.
"Come on girl, lemme buy you a drink"
The raspy voice was turning squeakier with every passing second. When she looked at him, she was greeted with a boy who was the definition of 'trying too hard'. With his hair gelled back and a leather jacket on top of his lanky frame- puffed out in an attempt to seem macho, he didn't look a day above seventeen or eighteen at the most.
"Is it even legal for you to be here. It's past your bedtime kiddo, go home to your momma."
He glanced back at his friends who were probably laughing at his expense right now. A look of alarm flashed in his eyes on thinking what his friends would say if they heard their conversation right now. He tried again. "You don't have to worry your pretty little head about it. Infact you come with me and you won't have to think at all." He said disparagingly, winking at her.
Despite the derogatory disrespect behind his crude suggestion, Samaira couldn't help but laugh. There was no way in hell this novice was scoring a girl tonight, and if he kept up with his charade, not even in a lifetime. He again looked behind his shoulder afraid to fail his squad and give them another reason to make him the butt of their jokes and mockery. Samaira looked where his eyes led and noticed that.
Things kids do, under peer pressure!
Samaira reached out for the pen and tissue paper from across the slab and scribbled a fake name and number. She brought the paper near her lips, and smacked them together such that the lipstick imprint impressed on it.
"Take this, honey and shove it up their asses."
He looked at her incredulously and broke into an boyish grin, before replacing it with a cocky smirk.
Standing not too far away, Samar's eyes sparkled with amusement as he saw the scene unfold. This was the Samaira he'd always known, so full of life- forever on her toes to help, not the lifeless shadow he now saw of her.
The stranger was about to walk away when she called out to him. Planting a kiss on his cheek, hard enough for the lipstick stain to appear, she whispered in his ear. "And sweetie? Don't let them call on the number. Its as fake as their pride."
"Thank you. The least I owe you is a drink." He looked at the bartender and ordered a G&T for her.
"Sorry Sir, but ma'am's drinks are already covered."
"I dont believe this. Under whose name?" She queried.
"Mr. Samar Singhania." She rolled her eyes. Who else could it have been?
Throwing an apologetic smile, the stranger left, leaving her fuming at the new piece of information.
When she saw Samar approaching, she let out a frustrated groan and hid her face in her palms.
Seeing her reaction, he resisted the chuckle threatening to spill. After a couple of minutes, hot under his unyielding scrutiny, she finally decided to look up.
"Oh let me guess, you're here to go all alpha male on me." Mimicking his gruff voice and failing miserably, she continued. "Samaira don't talk to men. Samaira don't drink. Samaira this-that. Just go away, Samar"
From the corner of her eyes, she saw a man determinedly walking towards her. Slyly adorning her ring finger with her gold band, she jiggled her fingers at him, before sending a resentful smile. He slumped his shoulders and retreated.
"Seems like you've learnt how to take care of yourself."
"Didn't have an option there, now did I? Someone had to take over once you conveniently stopped."
All traces of humour evaporated from his face.
Samar immensely cared for what belonged to him and Samaira had never stopped being his.
"Anyway, why did you do that?"
"What crime have I now committed to upset Your Highness?" He remarked sarcastically.
"Why are my drinks under your tab, Samar?"
"I'll undo my mistake if it bothers you so much. I'll let the men leering at you drug your drink and harass you, if that's what you so desperately want?"
Samaira wanted to retort, say something- anything to save herself from the dillusion that he still cared for her, but she found all responses frozen in the back of her throat. "I'm sorry."
"I can't let anything happen to you, Maira. Not under my watch." Taking in a sharp breath he menacingly added, "Who else would I torture then?"
Every interaction with Samar was shattering Samaira's heart into smaller and smaller pieces. Yet this did not mean she'd fall weak. Not when the past six years had taught her to function with her brain. He wanted a fight? Then that's what he'll get!
Turning around she ordered four shots of tequila and gulped them down in a single go.
Samar's eyes widened in surprise. This was not how he'd expected her to react.
"Fuck Samaira, stop it."
"Mind your own business." Looking at the bartender she asked for four more.
"Samaira, look at me."
Flipping him a bird, she downed the next four and moved towards the dj zone.
"This shit's not going to end well." He muttered to himself.
Revitalised with a newfound vigour and verve, she realised it had been too long since she'd felt this free- unbound by the confines of her life's woes and worries. The last time she'd consumed alcohol, a week after her parents died, she'd ended up pouring out her entire life history to Neil. The only good outcome of that night had been Neil and her abiding friendship and anything but.
Dancing without a care, she let herself loose. Swaying her hips and smacking her lips, she let her hands sensuously wander through her body and wreck her hair into a savage mess of sexiness. Oozing with unmatchable fervour, she was on fire.
It wasn't long before she found herself squished between men trying to grab her attention.
Closing her eyes, she decided to pay no heed, continuing with her titillating show of merciless moves.
Samar chugged his glass of scotch, uncomfortable with a now much visible hard on. This girl is going to be the death of him.
He had always been a possessive man. Having seen enough through the glass doors, he stalked towards her with a panther like grace. If he waited even a minute longer, jealousy would take over his sanity and he would no more be responsible for his actions.
Samaira found her back pressed to a sinewy chest, her waist tugged by robust arms. The familiar scent of earth and power, virility and sophistication, wafted to her nose.
He swiftly flipped her around by her hips, bringing her even closer to his chest. She enclasped her hands around his neck, hardly reaching the tip of his chin, even at 5'6".
Finding solace in the proximity of their embrace, they tuned out everything else. They met their step with step, twirling, laughing and stumbling, not knowing when they'd be experiencing this once again.