Free A Bollywood Affair by Sonali Dev

honey brown eyes that belonged in those ultra-fancy magazines Ridhi loved to read. “ ’Morning.”
    Oh God, his voice sounded exactly the way he looked. Golden, impeccable, as if the creator had paid special attention while crafting it. She frowned. As a rule Mili disliked pretty people. They reminded her of that girl Kamini in her village who always got what she wanted just because she looked like some sort of Bollywood star with marble white skin. Ugh.
    He leaned closer and patted her forehead with far too much familiarity. Good Lord, he even smelled the way he looked, like that perfume they folded into Ridhi’s magazines. Mili narrowed her eyes and gave him her fiercest look. How dare he get so overly familiar anyway? And act as if he were doing her some sort of favor. He was the reason she was here in the first place. He was the reason her new bike was broken. Her beautiful bike. She suppressed a sob.
    “What’s wrong?” he asked as if he’d known her for years. And why was he grinning like that?
    “I’m sorry, do I know you?” she snapped.
    That threw him. Good. “I believe I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Samir Ra—Veluri.”
    “Raveluri? What kind of name is that?”
    “Not Raveluri. Veluri.”
    “Then why did you say Raveluri?”
    He closed his eyes, swallowed, and then opened them again. “Can we start over?”
    “Sure, but first please take your hand off my head.”
    Greek God looked utterly offended, as if no one had ever had the gall to ask him to stop touching them. “Sorry, it seemed to calm you down when you were in pain, so I thought—”
    “You stayed here with me all night?” The heat of her temper fizzled like water on a hot tavaa pan. Then flared again.
    Through all her mind’s acrobatics, he remained as calm as the Buddha himself. Which made her temper flare some more.
    “You told the nurse there was no one she could call,” he said with utmost patience, “so I thought—”
    “You chased my only friend away. Now you want me to be thankful?” Everything that had happened after he knocked on her door flashed in her mind and she wanted to slap his perfect face.
    “Who said anything about being thankful?” His hands tightened on the yellow writing pad he was clutching and the muscle in his jaw twitched the tiniest bit, but other than that he kept his smile as serene as ever.
    “You had that look, like you expected gratitude.” Just for walking the earth, just like that stupid cow Kamini.
    “Can I ask you a question?”
    She shrugged.
    “Are you crazy?”
    See, she was right. All pretty people were horribly rude. That’s when it struck her. It was morning. Ridhi had to have left Michigan.
    “Why are you smiling?” he asked.
    “Because I just realized that you won’t find Ridhi now. She got away.”
    He looked completely dumbfounded. “Who’s Ridhi?”
    “Who’s Ridhi?”
     
    After they’d both repeated the phrase “Who’s Ridhi?” over and over again an absurd number of times, Samir had to find a way to exit the loop. This girl was certifiable, no doubt about it. If he had to hunt down a girl halfway across the world, why couldn’t it at least be someone who bordered on sane? Someone nice and normal. Yeah, right, when was the last time he had met a nice and normal girl? At least she was easy on the eyes. And sitting next to her, after a year-long dry spell, he hadn’t been able to stop writing.
    Holy. Fuck. Talk about complicating the plot.
    “Okay, listen, if I knew who this Ridhi was, would I have asked who she was?” He tried logic. Although from what he’d seen thus far logic didn’t stand much of a chance with this one.
    “What kind of man doesn’t know his own sister-slash-cousin-slash-whatever you are?”
    Did she just say “sister-slash-cousin”? Who used the word slash in a sentence? “So you think this Ridhi person is my sister-slash-cousin?” Not that he knew what that even meant. Could she speak Sane, please? He continued to smile at