Sandcastles | A Virat Kohli Fanfiction

12 • the surprise

Kavya's POV

Trust me when I say this - tonight was the loudest I had ever cheered for someone. I was sitting (technically, standing and jumping but nevermind) in one of the pavilion stands at Chinnaswamy stadium!

This miracle came into being as follows:

After my arrival from Coorg, I was asked to remain at the hotel alloted by our Bangalore branch, and was told that an important announcement would be made by the council of our company this weekend.
Thankfully, Monica was there with me. And she was the one who suggested this idea of watching the "oh-so-hyped" game of IPL semifinals.

So this girl had booked tickets as soon as I arrived from Coorg and did not even bother to ask me about it;
but I had no reason to turn down her plans either.
Whole universe wants me to see Virat Kohli again and again, I won't waste such prospects - kya pata kal ho naa ho?

After a numerous interruptions by the rain, RCB finally won. And now I would not refer to it as his team but our team. What's more important is that Virat bagged a century!
He looked so different than I had ever seen him. It seemed like he just broke a cocoon and transformed into a beautiful butterfly.

If only he knew I was just a few feet away from him, watching and cheering, laughing and crying each time he ran about the crease and swayed his bat.

I had tried contacting him earlier that day to inform I was coming at the match, but his phone wasn't reachable. So I decided I would try catching up with him after the match.

I told Monica that I won't be back early and that she can go by herself, and so she did.

Around 1 a.m. when the post-match presentation ended and when the stadium emptied, I went closer to the team bus outside in order to find Virat, just in case.

I wanted to see how he looks after winning. Because I had seen him internally losing to himself through our long-short conversations so far. But how triumph looked on Virat Kohli? I wanted to behold.

I saw him standing, his back facing me and talking to a caramel-haired teammate who almost seemed as if Virat's been bothering him a lot but he, like a brother figure, stood bearing all of Virat's tantrums - though I couldn't really hear them.

The man then left him alone and approached towards me. Those five seconds felt utterly terrifying because I had no idea what I would end up getting in - as if it was illegal to stand and watch cricketers getting aboard their bus.

"Excuse me" he said.

"Uh, yes?" I asked in a hollow perplexed tone and moved a little away from where I was standing.

"Nothing. There it is. My bag, behind you. Thanks."

"Aren't you.. I mean, are you AB de Villiers?!"

He grinned but never said yes or no, so I assumed it to be a yes. He suddenly narrowed his eyes and then immediately widened them open as if that was a Eureka! moment for him.

"What happened?" I asked him, stuttering.

"You're waiting for someone here?"

"Kind of, I am. You played well sir. So proud of the team!!" I blurted out in excitement and had almost forgotten my main motive of standing there.

"Your name?" he asked me.

"Kavya."

"Christ, what? Kavya, as in Kavya Vohra? I mean, as in Biscuit's Kavya? Like, sorry, I mean to ask, you are Virat's friend, right?"

Great. This guy knew my surname already. I can't imagine what Virat has said to him. Whatever he has, I hope he hasn't embarrassed me or I am killing him right away.

"That idiot's been waiting for your call since the last couple of hours. He is impossible. Jesus."

He picked up his bag and plunged it behind his shoulder and walked off towards the bus saying, "I'm telling him you're here, he might jump. So beware."

I slowly followed him.
As he climbed up the bus, he playfully elbowed Virat and whispered something in his ears. It was clear enough for me to hear from a distance too -

"Buddy, that what you're looking for is looking for ya too. Turn around and get her. See you, man."

I went closer as Virat turned to me, his lips immediately curving into an upward parabola, his teeth and face shining under the streetlights.

"You didn't return to Goa?" he asked the obvious.

"Uh, there's still some stuff left to do here. I was asked to stay longer."

"What a blessing, god!" he exclaimed and then went inside the bus with his bag quickly.
Did he just call me a blessing and then run away?

He walked out of the bus laughing and muttering something to people sitting inside. The bus drove away, leaving him behind - with me, of course. I wondered if he had left his brain on the pitch!
Who does that?

He let out a loud sigh, walking closer to me, rubbing his palms.

Not allowing me what I wanted to say, he started walking past me on the middle of the road, tucking his hands in his pocket. He tilted his head and raised his left eyebrow, signalling me to follow his lead.

My purse had an umbrella and a filled water bottle which made it quite heavy for me to catch up with his pace.

As we walked along, I congratulated him for the fabulous knock and the ultimate victory and also narrated why and how I was staying at Bangalore for a few days.

This walk was different from the one at the Willow Strands beach - but yet there wasn't even a slightest difference in the way my heart heated the ribs surrounding it, both the times.
The warmth was the same, the only difference was that I was better acquainted with the fire now.