✧ Arshiya Raizada, daughter of a multibillionaire businessman and a renowned fashion designer. Mega-rich? Check. Spoiled? Most definitely. Brat? On occasions. Rulebreaker? All the time.
✧ Roshan Singhania, son of the state chief minister. Bad boy...
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❝Our doubts are traitors. And make us lose the good we might win. By fearing to attempt.❞ -William Shakespeare
[Year 1 - April]
The last thing I need before walking into an exam hall is to bump into a clueless girl trying to find her way. She winces as her shoulder rams against mine, but I don't let it stop me. She calls out, scolding, "Watch it, dude!" Muttering to myself, I keep walking. She only adds to my irritation, "Excuse me? I don't think my ears heard you. Care to properly apologize?"
Apologize, my ass.
Deciding I wasn't going to let any wannabe chick talk to me this way, I pause and turn 180 to face her. Have I seen her somewhere? She isn't too familiar... but she must go to this school if she is here during exam week. "Look here, I don't know who you think you are but in the first place, I should not even be the one apologizing. You are the one who abruptly turned to walk the opposite way."
Her jaw drops at the accusation as if she has never been blamed for anything in her life. "Did you just say it's my fault? You could have dislocated my shoulder the way you bull-rammed into me!"
Dislocate her shoulder with a mere bump? As if! I laugh. Without humor, of course. "Sure, Princess. Go be a delicate flower somewhere else. I don't have time for this."
When I try to go my own way, she walks around to block my path and demands, "Make time because you are not leaving till I hear an apology out of you."
An eyebrow cocks up in amusement, "Is that so?"
No one has gotten me to apologize for anything in my life. As much as I have places to be, I'd like to see how she thinks she can make the impossible happen.
She squints back at my mocking. There is no amusement in her doe brown eyes. "Yes." She seethes back while crossing her arms over her chest, quite aware of the students passing us by who slow down just a notch to linger and figure out what's happening.
I mimic her stance by folding my arms across my chest in a challenge. Then, I take a daring step toward her. "Make me."
Unlike all females, and most males at this school, she does not back down from my challenge and instead, surprises me by taking a step toward me as if to let me know that I do not intimidate her. I don't allow the surprise to reflect on my face. I would never give myself away.
The bell rings overhead. A warning signal for everyone to get to the allotted exam halls. Neither of us blinks away from each other as if neither of us learned in our lives to back down. To accept defeat.
