Just A Friend?

Chapter Eighteen

They both walked in silence, an electric tension lingering in the air, until they reached her scooter—a sleek, unassuming vehicle parked near the exit. Sweety stood beside it, casually waiting, while Prabhas approached her with a faint smile playing on his lips.

"Nice scooter," he complimented, his tone as smooth as ever, though his eyes held a glint of admiration.

"Thanks," she replied, almost nonchalantly. "It's actually my friend's. I just borrowed it for today." The revelation caught Prabhas off guard, his eyebrows lifting in mild amusement.

"But you're the leading model," he began, incredulity creeping into his voice. "You could easily arrange for a car. Didn't the ad campaign manager set up transportation for you? That's what they told me! Why borrow a scooter from your friend?"

Sweety gave a small, graceful shrug, her expression softening as she explained, "They did, but I declined. I prefer this, honestly. It's strange when people treat me so formally, like I'm from another planet or something. I just want to live a simple life whenever I can."

Her words struck a chord with him, pulling at something deep within. She hadn't changed—still the same Sweety, who cherished simplicity over extravagance. He couldn't help but admire her even more in that moment, his smile broadening as he looked at her, lost in thoughts of the girl she had always been.

Noticing his prolonged gaze, Sweety waved her hand in front of his face, snapping him out of his reverie. "So, are you going to take your car and lead the way, or shall I follow you on my scooter?" she asked, her voice laced with a gentle teasing.

Just then, an idea sparked in Prabhas's mind, mischievous and spontaneous. "Well... I don't have my car with me," he declared, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible, though the corner of his mouth twitched with suppressed amusement.

Sweety raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by his flimsy excuse. "The CEO of one of India's biggest companies doesn't own a car?" she asked, her voice dripping with playful sarcasm.

Prabhas cleared his throat, trying to maintain his composure. "Uhm... I mean, I do own a car, obviously. But it's, uh... it's in the shop. Needed some repairs, you see. I had my PA send it to the mechanic. And now... well, I don't really know how I'm going to get home."

His excuse was so transparent, so utterly absurd, that it could only have one meaning. Sweety saw right through it, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Memories of their college days flooded her mind—those carefree times when they used to ride together on her scooter, laughing and talking as they zipped through the streets. It was a simpler time, and the thought of recreating it, even for just a moment, tugged at her heart.

She studied him for a moment, his tall frame towering over the scooter, his expression a mixture of hope and nervousness. The aura of the powerful CEO momentarily giving way to the boyish charm she had always known.

But something held her back, a tiny voice in the back of her mind warning her to be cautious.

As Sweety turned to leave, her words almost dismissive, "It's okay if you don't have transport. We can just drop our plan," she said, her tone neutral.

But Prabhas felt a surge of panic shoot through him. Before he could even think, his hand reached out to stop her, his expression nothing short of horrified. "Wait!" he blurted out, the word escaping his lips far more urgently than he had intended.

He took a deep breath, gathering his composure, trying to steady the rapid beating of his heart. "Won't you give me a lift?" he asked, his voice now calm, yet laced with a subtle plea.

Sweety hesitated, her mind racing. How could she refuse? To say no would be so... harsh, so unlike her. She was torn, lost in a whirlwind of thoughts until his gentle call brought her back to reality.