If there's one thing worse than asking for help, it's asking him for help.
And yet, there I was—sitting across from Aarav at our dining table with my half-finished psychology assignment, a dead laptop charger, and a rapidly dying ego.
"Okay, explain this to me again," he said, squinting at my notes. "What exactly is this experiment?"
"It's basic behavioral observation," I said, not-so-patiently. "I need to study how people react under certain social triggers."
"Sounds like you're plotting to become a therapist or a villain. Not sure which."
"Both," I said, deadpan.
He laughed. I hated how easily he laughed around me now. Like he was comfortable. Like we weren't sitting close enough to accidentally brush knees every two minutes.
---
"Do you want me to help you design a survey or—?"
"I need someone to test it on," I said, glaring at him.
His brows rose. "Wait. You want to analyze me?"
"Unless you'd like to back out and admit you're scared."
"Oh, Tapu," he said with a smirk, "you have no idea how much that doesn't work on me."
---
Twenty minutes later, he was leaning over my laptop, answering my survey questions in a tone that was way too casual for someone messing with my sanity.
Question 9: Do you often suppress your true emotions in fear of being misunderstood?
He paused.
"…Maybe."
"Maybe?" I asked, looking up at him.
He was closer now. Much closer. His eyes flicked to mine, just for a second.
"I think… some feelings are better kept private."
Like the ones I was having right now?
"Okay," I said, my voice coming out quieter than I expected.
He smirked slightly. "Why are you blushing? You're the one testing me."
"I'm not blushing," I lied, touching my face.
"You're as red as Rishi's motorbike."
---
Then he leaned back, arms crossed. "You know, I always thought you were a little scary."
"Excuse me?"
"Back then. When you were a kid. You were tiny but terrifying."
"I still am terrifying," I said.
He smiled. "Yeah. But now you're also…"
He stopped. Blinked. "Never mind."
My heart did a triple flip.
Now I'm also what, Aarav?
A villain? A poem? A problem?
---
That night, I couldn't focus on the rest of the assignment. Not because of the laptop.
Because of him.
His answers. His voice. The way he almost said something he shouldn't.
And the way I desperately wanted him to finish that sentence.