Heat Between Us

Part 1

The first time Vihaan saw Aisha, she was arguing with a street vendor over the price of mangoes. Sunlight danced on her caramel skin, her dark eyes sharp with determination. He smirked, amused.

“You drive a hard bargain,” he murmured, stepping closer. She turned, brows raised. “And you eavesdrop.”

That was how it started.

Vihaan was her best friend’s older brother—off-limits, too arrogant for his own good. And Aisha? She was fire and wit, the kind of trouble he shouldn’t crave.

Their paths crossed often. Aisha would visit his house, pretending not to notice when Vihaan’s gaze lingered a little too long. He would pass by her workplace, offering casual smirks that made her stomach flip. The tension simmered, an unsaid challenge in every glance.

Then came the rain.

Aisha had stayed late at Vihaan’s house, waiting for her friend. But the storm outside raged, making leaving impossible. Vihaan leaned against the kitchen counter, watching her.

“You could stay the night,” he suggested.

“In your room?” she teased, raising a brow.

His lips twitched. “If you want.”

She scoffed but didn't miss the way his voice dropped, how his fingers flexed like he was resisting the urge to touch her.

The moment stretched, charged with something undeniable.

“I should go to bed,” she whispered.

Vihaan took a slow step forward. “Do you want to?”

Aisha swallowed. The air was thick with heat, with the weight of what they’d both been ignoring. His gaze dropped to her lips, and for the first time, she didn’t look away.

“Goodnight, Vihaan,” she murmured, but her voice wavered.

He exhaled, smirking as he stepped back. “For now.”

And with that, the slow burn continued—hotter, hungrier, and inevitable.

---

Aisha barely slept that night. Every time she closed her eyes, she felt the weight of Vihaan’s gaze, the deep timber of his voice replaying in her mind. Do you want to? Damn him.

By morning, the rain had stopped, but the storm inside her hadn’t.

She stepped into the kitchen, hoping to leave before he woke up. But there he was, leaning against the counter, coffee mug in hand, looking unfairly good in a plain white t-shirt and sweats.

“You’re up early,” he noted, smirking over the rim of his cup.

“I have places to be.” She avoided his eyes, reaching for a glass. But the moment she did, Vihaan was there—too close, his body brushing hers as he placed a plate of toast beside her.

“Eat first.” His voice was low, firm.

She should’ve stepped back. She should’ve ignored the way heat crept up her spine. Instead, she turned, eyes locking onto his. “You always this bossy?”

His smirk deepened. “Only when someone needs it.”

Aisha scoffed, grabbing the toast, if only to break the tension. But Vihaan? He wasn’t done.

As she took a bite, he leaned in, fingers trailing the countertop beside her, caging her in. His scent—fresh soap and something purely him—wrapped around her senses.

“You avoided me last night,” he murmured.

Her heart pounded. “I went to bed.”

“Too fast.” His fingers ghosted over her wrist, teasing. “Like you were running.”

“I don’t run from you.” The words came out breathier than intended.

Vihaan tilted his head, studying her. Then, so lightly it was maddening, his thumb brushed the corner of her lips, catching a stray crumb.

Aisha sucked in a breath.

“Good,” he murmured, his voice dropping. “Because I don’t chase.”

Liar.

The way he was looking at her—like he wanted to close the space, like he wanted to ruin her—it told a different story.

But before she could call him out, before she could do something reckless, his phone buzzed on the counter.

He glanced at it, then back at her. “Go ahead, run now.”

Aisha grabbed her bag, but as she stepped past him, she felt it—his fingers trailing the back of her hand, brief, fleeting, intentional.