Twelve Hours of Temptation by Shoma Narayanan Page B

around. It was only seven, and there was an hour before dinner started. ‘Do you want to go and wait in the bar till dinner begins, or would you like to go back to your room?’
    ‘Bar,’ Melissa said gloomily. ‘Though I won’t be very good company. I wish I drank. I’d like to get completely sloshed.’
    She looked so ruffled that Samir impulsively put an arm around her and gave her an affectionate squeeze.
    It was a perfectly innocuous gesture—brotherly, even—Melissa could only blame her own overactive hormones for her instant reaction. Trying not to be obvious by pulling away abruptly, she stayed absolutely still until he let go of her.
    Seemingly unconscious of the upheaval he’d caused in her mind, he asked, ‘Family problems?’
    ‘The family has problems with me,’ she said. ‘So, yes, I suppose you could call it family problems.’
    He waited till she was sitting down with a glass of juice in her hand before he said, ‘Want to talk about it?’
    ‘I wouldn’t want to bore you,’ she said. ‘It’s not such a big deal.’
    But clearly it was—her voice was wobbly and her eyes looked suspiciously damp.
    Samir put a hand lightly over hers. ‘I don’t get bored easily,’ he said.
    ‘My dad disowned me a couple of years ago,’ she said tightly. ‘Struck my name out of the family Bible and all that. Michael was pretty upset with me as well, but he’s come around. Cheryl’s level-headed—she must have talked some sense into him.’
    ‘What happened—a guy?’
    Melissa grimaced. ‘Predictable, isn’t it? My dad flipped out. It wasn’t even anything terribly serious—just a teenage crush—I’d have lost interest if he hadn’t made such a fuss.’
    Samir frowned. Something didn’t sound quite right. ‘He threw you out of the house because you had a crush on a guy?’
    ‘No...not exactly. I was going through a rebellious phase, and... Well, I overstepped the mark quite a bit. Anyway, let’s talk about something else; my love life isn’t exactly the most thrilling topic.’
    ‘Neither is mine,’ Samir said, his voice deadpan. ‘So that leaves politics and the economy. At this rate we’ll soon be reduced to talking about the weather.’
    In spite of herself, Melissa laughed. ‘Storms are brewing in North Goa,’ she said. ‘That’s where my folks live.’
    ‘What was he like?’ Samir asked abruptly.
    There was something vaguely unsettling in the thought of Melissa having had a relationship serious enough for her to have broken ties with her family. Evidently the man was no longer in the picture—maybe they’d broken up afterwards.
    ‘I don’t want to talk about it,’ Melissa said, shaking her head firmly. ‘I need to take my mind off him, and my brother, and... Oh, what the heck? I think I’ll have a drink after all.’ She beckoned to a waiter and ordered a vodka with orange juice.
    ‘Are you sure you can handle that?’ Samir asked, eyeing the way she glugged it back with misgiving.
    Melissa laughed. ‘I come from a family of hard drinkers,’ she said. ‘My grandmother could probably drink you under the table. Turning teetotal was my way of rebelling.’
    Many rounds later, Samir had to acknowledge that Melissa had inherited her grandmother’s capacity for strong liquor. Not a heavy drinker himself, he was beginning to feel the effect of the vodkas. Melissa, on the other hand, was looking just the same—maybe just a tad more bight-eyed and chatty than she had been at the start of the evening.
    ‘One more?’ she asked, tapping Samir’s empty glass with her finger.
    He shook his head ruefully. ‘I’m done,’ he said. ‘Any more and they’ll have to carry me out of here.’
    ‘Bo-ring,’ she said. ‘Come on, Samir, don’t be a wuss. I was hoping you’d take me dancing after this.’
    ‘Sorry—too old,’ he said. ‘Why don’t you go with that Akash guy who was trying to chat you up so desperately?’
    ‘Ah, so you noticed?’ Melissa said. ‘He’s