Rebel Hard (Hard Play #2)(38)

“Hey, Raj!” one of his men called out. “Gazza says those are lady scratches on your back. He right?”

Raj hadn’t realized Nayna had scratched him. Grinning, he said, “No comment and keep your fucking eyes to yourself.” A construction site wasn’t exactly time for gentle language.

“Hey, Gazza, I think the boss has a girl.”

“And you’re a bunch of gossips!” Raj yelled back. “I’m paying you to hammer, not chat.”

“Hammer! Is that what they call a Freudian slip?” That was from Gazza—currently in the midst of an English literature degree for “reasons.” What reasons, he’d never verbalized.

“Gaz!” Raj yelled up. “You ever read Pride and Prejudice?”

“Yeah, for class.” The other man continued to frame an upstairs window. “That Mr. Darcy is a wanker like the entire first half—if I was that much of a wanker, I’d never get laid.”

Nodding because someone finally agreed with him, Raj whacked in another timber before saying, “And what the fuck about Wickham?”

“Dude’s a fucking fuckwit” was the concise response.

Tino, who’d started this all off, said, “You two in a book club or something?”

“A club to get girls, dickhead,” Gazza responded. “Girls like guys who read.”

“Yeah, says who?” Tino demanded.

“Look up ‘hot guys reading’ online.”

When Tino did and went, “Shiiiiiit, why didn’t you fuckers tell me this years ago!” Raj went over to take a look.

And saw countless images of men reading in public. Pictures taken by women. Who had then commented with heart emojis and words like swoon and “my panties just disappeared.”

Hmm.

That night he sent Nayna a shirtless image—of him sprawled in his bed, reading about that wanker, Mr. Darcy. He’d stolen the print book off his sister’s bookshelf for this purpose. It was worth all the work it took to get that shot when Nayna replied with: I’m dead now, Sen. I hope you’re happy.

Yes, Raj was very happy. Panic or not, she was still talking to him, still reacting to him. The door wasn’t quite shut. His butterfly hadn’t flown out of his sight.



* * *



Raj finally admitted defeat on the morning of New Year’s Eve. He’d tried everything possible, but his parents would not budge on the “casual” get-together with the Sharmas. “Shilpa and Gaurav will make such nice in-laws,” he heard his mother, Sangeeta, say to his father—the two were on the lawn, not far from Raj’s flat at the back of the property.

His sister, who was hanging out with him, raised an eyebrow, then began to sing “Here comes the bride” under her breath.

“Quiet, Monkey.” He pointed a finger at her.

Unrepentant, she stuck out her tongue. “So, are you going to marry her?”

“That’s between me and Nayna.” And it was a dream so important that he couldn’t share it with anyone until it was real, until she agreed to be his.

“Ugh. Spoilsport.” Aditi slumped back on the sofa, her mass of curly hair a halo around her head. She was as tiny as he was big, her face triangular where his was all square lines. And her brain worked completely differently too.

“You still kicking the asses of the boys in your physics class?”

“It’s my solemn duty.” Still slumped like a jellyfish, she scowled. “God, the mansplaining I got when I started this year. Just because I’m short and female.” She sat up. “I hope you never mansplain to a woman.”

Raj threw up his hands. “I’ve been schooled by you since you were four, what do you think?”

Bouncing up, she came over to hug him from behind where he sat at his drafting desk, working out a building problem. “I love you, bhaiya.” She smacked a kiss on his cheek. “I’m gonna quiz this Nayna chick. She better be good enough for you.”

His admonitions to her to keep her distance were soundly ignored. “That’s what comes of being a nice big brother,” he muttered to himself when they got to the Sharma house and Aditi attached herself to Nayna like a human limpet.

“Were you speaking to me?”

He shook his head at Madhuri. “No, sorry.” He took in her flawless makeup, her tight top that showed a little too much cleavage, her skinny jeans, and had zero reaction. Nayna, meanwhile, was wearing a loose white linen shift with three-quarter-length sleeves, and he wanted to tear it off and lick her up like candy.

“Sooo, you and my sister are serious.” A waggle of Madhuri’s eyebrows. “I’m happy for Nayna.”

He had the feeling she was sincere. He also had a feeling that Madhuri was used to being the center of attention. Even though she was happy for her sister, she kept attempting to outshine her. Not just the clothes and the makeup and the flashy earrings. The charming of his parents, the way she got Aditi away from Nayna by talking hair trends, how she took over a conversation Nayna was having with her own father.

It annoyed him.

Especially when Nayna’s entire family didn’t even seem to notice, as if the behavior was so normal that it didn’t ping on their radar. He scowled, gaining a dark new insight into Nayna’s upbringing.