Chapter 11: A Game of Bad Decisions

The glasses clinked against the counter, neatly lined up as the bartender smirked at the brewing chaos. Hazel’s fingers traced the rim of the first shot, her smirk mirroring Vivhan’s.

"Three rounds," Vivhan announced. "First one to tap out loses."

Arav exhaled sharply. "This is stupid."

"You’re welcome to leave, Arav," Hazel teased, tilting her head.

"Not happening," he muttered.

The first shot burned down her throat, but Hazel barely flinched. She slammed the glass down, eyes locked on Vivhan, who grinned and took his turn.

Round two.

The burn was stronger, her head lighter. Naina leaned against the counter, shaking her head. "This is the dumbest thing you’ve done in a while."

"That’s a lie," Hazel muttered, grabbing the next shot.

Arav was watching her now, his jaw clenched, hands shoved into his pockets like he was stopping himself from dragging her out of there.

Round three.

Vivhan hesitated.

Hazel smirked. "What happened, champ? Feeling dizzy?"

Vivhan narrowed his eyes and downed his shot. Hazel followed, feeling a slight sway in her stance.

The room tilted. The music buzzed against her skin.

Naina’s voice sounded distant. "Okay, that’s enough."

Vivhan grinned, but his victory was short-lived because Hazel—stubborn, reckless, drunk Hazel—reached for one more shot.

Arav’s patience snapped. Before she could grab it, his hand closed over her wrist.

"That’s it," he said, voice low. "You’re done."

Hazel blinked up at him, her heartbeat stuttering at how close he suddenly was.

"But I can win," she murmured.

Arav’s lips pressed into a thin line. "Hazel."

Something in his tone made her stomach flip. She swallowed, suddenly aware of how warm his hand was against her skin.

Naina coughed. "Maybe you should get some air."

Arav didn’t wait for an answer. He pulled Hazel away from the bar, his grip firm but careful.

"Party’s not over," she mumbled as he led her toward the quieter part of the house.

"It is for you," Arav muttered.

Hazel would have argued. But the way he was looking at her—somewhere between frustration and something softer—made her forget what she was going to say.

The cool night air barely helped Hazel’s spinning head. She almost tripped over her own feet, and Arav caught her with ease, his hands firm on her arms.

"Okay, that’s it. I’m taking you home," he muttered, sighing.

Hazel pouted. "I can walk, you know."

"Sure," Arav deadpanned, watching her sway slightly. "That’s why you nearly face-planted just now."

Ignoring her protests, he pulled out his phone and quickly texted Naina. She was too caught up with Vivhan to notice Hazel’s state, but she responded with a simple, Take her, I’ll see you later.

With that, Arav led Hazel toward his car, his grip never loosening. Hazel, however, had other plans.

"You’re being bossy," she mumbled, trying to free herself.

"And you’re being a handful," Arav shot back, opening the passenger door for her.

Hazel huffed but slid in, her movements sluggish. Arav got into the driver’s seat and started the car, glancing at her briefly. She was staring at him now, her black eyes hazy yet… curious.

"Arav," she mumbled, resting her head against the seat.

He hummed in response, focusing on the road.

"Do you love Meera?"

His hands froze on the steering wheel.

The question hung in the air, heavy and unexpected.

Arav turned his head slowly, his brown eyes dark under the streetlights. Hazel was still looking at him, her expression unreadable.

His grip on the wheel tightened. "Why are you asking me that?"

Hazel blinked, her lashes fluttering. "Because she acts like she owns you."

Arav let out a sharp exhale, running a hand through his hair. "Meera doesn’t own me, Hazel."

"But did you?" Hazel’s voice was softer now. "Did you love her?"

Arav didn’t answer immediately. His jaw tensed, his eyes flickering with something unreadable. Then, finally—

"No."

Hazel stared at him for a moment longer, as if trying to gauge if he was telling the truth. Then, much to Arav’s surprise, she smiled—a small, almost knowing smile—before closing her eyes.

"Okay," she whispered.

Arav glanced at her again. She had already drifted off, her breathing even. He sighed, shaking his head slightly.

This girl was going to be the death of him.

By the time they reached Hazel’s apartment, she was half-asleep, her head leaning against the car window. Arav parked and turned toward her, hesitating.

"Hazel," he called, nudging her arm.

She groaned, blinking up at him. "Mmm... I’m awake."

Arav sighed and got out, walking around to her side. He opened the door, and before she could protest, he placed a steady hand on her waist, helping her up.

"You’re really taking this knight-in-shining-armor role seriously," Hazel mumbled, swaying slightly.

"Someone has to," Arav muttered.

They reached her apartment door, and as she fumbled for her keys, she turned to him, suddenly too close.

Way too close.

Arav could feel the warmth radiating off her, smell the faint traces of her perfume mixed with the lingering scent of alcohol. Hazel looked up at him with those deep black eyes, and for the first time, she wasn’t teasing. She wasn’t throwing sarcastic remarks or pretending to be indifferent.

She just... looked at him.

And damn if that didn’t make something shift inside him.

Her gaze flickered to his lips for just a second.

Arav’s breath hitched.

Hazel tilted her head slightly, as if waiting.

And for a moment—just one fleeting, dangerous moment—he thought about it.

About closing the distance.

About how easy it would be to kiss her right now.

But then—

"You have really pretty eyelashes," Hazel blurted out.

Arav blinked. "What?"

Hazel, still way too close, nodded as if this was a deeply profound discovery. "Like, unfairly pretty. If I had those, I wouldn’t need mascara."