The One She Was Warned About by Shoma Narayanan

wearing a much-used one-piece black swimsuit—but in spite of its age it clung faithfully to her slim curves. He could hardly take his eyes off her. Her wet hair hung down her back, and little drops of water were rolling down her neck and into her cleavage as she leaned against the side of the pool. Involuntarily, he raised a hand and trailed it down the side of the arm nearest him.
    Shweta shivered in response, slipping back into the water before he could do more. She’d got a good look at him, and he looked pretty irresistible himself. His body lived up to if not exceeded the expectations it had aroused when he was fully clothed—all washboard abs, lean muscle and sinewy arms. He looked more like a professional athlete than a businessman. His damp hair flopped just so over his forehead, dripping into his deep-set eyes and he had just the right hint of devilry in his expression—all in all, Shweta thought, she could be forgiven for thinking him pretty irresistible.
    ‘Well?’ he asked, treading water next to her. ‘Are you done practising for the Olympics? Can we get out before I catch my death of cold?’
    ‘It’s not cold at all,’ Shweta said, but she swam to the side of the pool. It was difficult to hold a conversation with her ears full of water, and she didn’t mean to try.
    Outside the pool, Nikhil looked even more impressive, towering over her as she got out of the water. He took her hand to help her out and a jolt of electricity seemed to pass from his body to hers. Realising that she was staring up at him dumbly, Shweta made as if to step away—Nikhil, however, took her by the shoulders and pulled her against his body. Slowly, he lowered his head to hers, but just when she thought he was about to kiss her he pulled away.
    ‘Someone’s coming,’ he said. ‘You’d better go and change. I’ll see you back here in fifteen minutes, OK?’
    It took her ten minutes to shower, change into shorts and a sleeveless tee and get back to the poolside. He was waiting there for her, standing with his back to the pool. He’d changed as well, into khaki shorts and a white T-shirt. His hair was still damp, and as she came up he tossed the towel he’d been holding on to a deckchair.
    ‘I’m leaving tonight,’ he said abruptly. ‘I’ll see you in Mumbai soon—we have that dinner date, remember?’
    Shweta felt quite absurdly disappointed. ‘Are you leaving right away?’
    He nodded. ‘Almost. It’s a long way to the airport. I wanted to say goodbye, and I realised we haven’t exchanged numbers.’
    ‘I don’t have a piece of paper,’ she said. ‘And my mobile’s back in my room.’
    ‘Tell me your number. I’ll memorise it, and I’ll call you when I’m on my way to the airport,’ he said. ‘I’m not carrying my mobile either.’
    Shweta told him her number and he listened carefully, repeating it back to her to make sure he’d got it right.
    ‘So...I’ll call you, then,’ he said, turning to climb the stairs that led to the hotel.
    Shweta gazed after him in disbelief, and then ran up the stairs to overtake him. ‘Just a minute,’ she said. ‘When you say you’ll call me and we’ll go out for dinner, is that like a date, or something? Because I’m a little confused—you kissed me on the boat, and you were about to kiss me just now, if someone hadn’t come along. But the rest of the time you act like I’m your old buddy from school—not that I was your buddy. We used to fight all the time, except in kindergarten. Actually, that’s the last time I was able to figure out what you’re up to—when we were in kindergarten. You’ve grown more and more complicated...’
    Nikhil’s brow creased with concentration as he tried to keep up and failed. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he said finally.
    Shweta shook her head in exasperation. ‘Forget it,’ she said. ‘I’m making a muddle of things as usual.’
    ‘No—rewind a bit and let me understand this.’
    His eyes