"You're doing that on purpose."
Mehul smirked. "Maybe."
His fingers didn't move.
Neither did mine.
I could have pulled away.
Could have ended this game.
But I didn't.
Because if Mehul wanted to push me—
I was going to push back.
I tightened my grip around the cup, tilting my head slightly.
"Hmm. Interesting."
Mehul raised an eyebrow. "What is?"
I leaned in. Just a little. Enough to test him.
"You like touching me, don't you?"
His eyes flickered.
Ah-ha.
I smirked, finally feeling like I had the upper hand.
I slid my fingers just a bit closer, letting them brush over his.
Slow. Intentional.
If he wanted to play this game, I was going to make him suffer.
Mehul exhaled.
Then—he smirked.
And that was the moment I knew I screwed up.
Mehul leaned in. Closer than before.
So close I could feel his breath against my jaw.
So close that my heartbeat immediately betrayed me.
His fingers curled slightly over mine.
Slow. Deliberate.
Then—he whispered.
"Vihaan."
I forgot how to breathe.
Because that tone.
That voice.
That soft, teasing, completely unfair voice.
Brain? Gone.
Heartbeat? Ruined.
Dignity? Nowhere to be found.
And then—he smirked.
Like he knew exactly what he was doing to me.
Like he had just won this entire game.
And the worst part?
He absolutely did.
I yanked my hand back.
Grabbed my cup. Downed half my chai like my life depended on it.
Mehul?
He just sat back, completely smug.
Like he had never been affected in the first place.
I scowled. "You're the worst."
He hummed. "And yet, you still keep losing to me."
I wanted to scream.
Because he was right.
And worst of all?
I was starting to enjoy losing.