TOXIC IN HIS TOUCH

"Back to Normal... Almost"

The early morning light crept through the curtains, brushing soft gold across the curve of Kriti’s cheek. Arjun had been awake for a while, but he hadn’t moved not even a little. She was still tangled in the blanket, face tucked near his collarbone, fingers resting against his bare chest like she belonged there.

He should leave. Her mom would be up soon. This was reckless.

But damn, she was warm. Peaceful. And so heartbreakingly real.

He ran his thumb gently along the curve of her shoulder. She stirred, stretching slightly, and blinked up at him with sleep-heavy eyes.

“Still here?” she whispered, voice hoarse.

“I told you I wouldn’t vanish.”

Her lips curved, slow and shy. “You say that a lot lately.”

“And I mean it a lot lately.”

Kriti watched him for a second. “You’re really not gonna freak out?”

Arjun shook his head, brushing a kiss to her forehead. “No. I’m not gonna ruin this. Not this time.”

LATER THAT DAY – GROUP HANGOUT

By the time the gang met up at Aarav’s house that evening, everything had shifted back into its place — at least on the surface.

The living room was chaos. Pizza boxes on the table. Aliya bickering with Krish over music. Sarah setting up Cards Against Humanity like it was a high-stakes poker match.

Kriti sat curled up on the bean bag, hoodie back on, hair braided, laughing at one of Aarav’s dumb impressions. Arjun was sprawled on the floor beside her, scrolling through memes, not looking at her.

But not looking at her too hard.

Because everyone would notice if he stared.

Especially Sarah.

Especially after what happened last time.

“Okay, everyone,” Sarah said dramatically, clapping her hands. “Before we dive into this morally corrupt game, let me remind y’all of our only rule—”

Arjun mouthed it silently along with her.

“No. Dating. Within. The. Group.”

“Yeah, yeah, dictator,” Krish groaned.

Aliya rolled her eyes. “Seriously, do you have to say it every time?”

“Considering how many of you flirt with each other when bored?” Sarah raised an eyebrow. “Yes.”

Krish leaned back on the couch, smirking. “Don’t worry, I’m not interested in Aliya or Sarah. You both are way too dramatic. Not even my type.”

Aliya flipped him off.

Sarah scoffed. “What is your type, then? Vapid and emotionally unavailable?”

Krish’s grin widened. “Maybe Kriti.”

The room froze.

And Arjun — who was perfectly calm a moment ago — dropped his phone.

It hit the carpet with a soft thud, but the tension was loud.

He cleared his throat and sat up, leaning forward on his elbows with a dangerous calm. “Don’t forget the rule, bro.”

Krish laughed, but his smile faded a little. “Chill, dude. Was just kidding.”

Arjun’s eyes didn’t match his tone. “Still. Not funny.”

Kriti pretended to cough, burying her laugh in her hand. Her cheeks were heating up.

Aliya raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything.

Sarah was already back to organizing the game, oblivious — or pretending to be.

But Kriti caught Arjun’s glance a second later. That look. The tiny shift of his jaw. The flex of his fingers on his knee. Like he didn’t even understand what that feeling was yet.

But Kriti?

She knew.

_______

A LITTLE LATER – AFTER THE GAMES

Everyone was lazing around now. The game was over. The boys were arguing about movie choices, and the girls were lying around on the floor. Kriti was texting someone, but her eyes flicked to Arjun every few minutes. Like her body kept turning toward him without her permission.

When he stood to get a soda from the kitchen, she followed a moment later.

He was at the fridge when she walked in.

“Jealous much?” she whispered, grabbing the bottle from his hand playfully.

He gave her a look. “I wasn’t jealous.”

Kriti opened the soda and smirked. “You told Krish not to joke about me.”

“I would’ve said that about anyone,” he argued weakly.

“Sure,” she said, sipping and walking past him.

Before she reached the door, he tugged her wrist, pulling her close.

Their bodies didn’t touch, but their faces were barely inches apart.

“I didn’t like hearing him say your name like that,” Arjun muttered.

Kriti’s breath caught.

“I don’t know what that means yet,” he continued, voice lower now. “But it’s new. And loud. And real.”

She stared at him.

Then whispered, “Same.”

And just like that, they parted again. Back to being casual. Back to pretending.

But their hearts?

They were done pretending.

---

THE NEXT DAY – AT COLLEGE

It was weirdly... peaceful.

No drama. No rules. No jealous exes or steamy stares (okay, fewer steamy stares).

Kriti and Arjun sat beside each other in chemistry. Their knees didn’t touch. They didn’t even talk.

But every time she reached for a pencil, his fingers brushed hers.

And neither of them moved away.

_________

The sky outside the campus gates was melting into a soft orange, cotton-candy clouds drifting lazily overhead. It had been a quieter day — no drama, no stolen touches in the library, no heavy stares across the quad.

Just… peace.

Kriti stepped out of her last class, her phone in hand, scrolling aimlessly. Arjun was already waiting near his car, leaning against the door with one ankle crossed over the other, flipping through his playlist.

She smiled when she saw him. He didn’t smile back — but his eyes lit up. And that was more than enough.

“Hop in,” he said casually, opening the passenger side door for her.

She climbed in without question, tossing her bag to the backseat. He reached over to grab her water bottle that had been rolling around from earlier and handed it to her like muscle memory.

“Thanks,” she muttered, sipping.

The first few minutes of the drive were filled with soft music and the occasional sound of the indicator clicking. Her fingers tapped absently against her thigh as Arjun drove, one hand on the wheel, the other resting between them — fingers twitching like they wanted something to hold.

“You’re quiet,” he said after a while.

She turned her head to look at him. “So are you.”

He smirked, eyes still on the road. “Thinking about last night?”

Kriti blushed, looking out the window. “You?”

Arjun exhaled a soft laugh. “I was thinking about your bookshelf.”

She turned, scandalized. “Shut up!”

He just grinned. “Seriously. Who still has hardcovers of vampire novels?”

She hit his arm, cheeks flushed. “You’re the worst.”

But they were laughing now, and the car somehow felt smaller — not physically, but emotionally. Like it was closing in around the two of them, letting nothing else in.

Then silence again. Comfortable, but charged.

Kriti looked out the window. “You confuse me sometimes.”

Arjun’s fingers gripped the steering wheel tighter for half a second.

Then he glanced at her, eyes soft. “That makes two of us.”

They stopped at a red light. He rested his hand palm-up on the console between them. Not demanding. Just there.

Kriti stared at it.

Then, slowly, she reached over and slid her fingers into his.

It wasn’t fireworks.

It was better.

It was grounding. Steady.

Real.

Arjun glanced at their joined hands, then back at the road as the light turned green. He didn’t say anything.

But he didn’t stop smiling either.

As he pulled up outside her gate, he parked but didn’t kill the engine.

Kriti unbuckled, fingers still loosely laced with his. She hesitated.

“Thanks for the ride,” she said softly.

Arjun turned to her.

And instead of leaning in like usual — for the cheek kiss or teasing smirk — he gently reached up and brushed his lips against her forehead. No heat. No urgency.

Just a silent, warm kind of promise.

Her eyes fluttered shut.

When she opened them again, he was already looking at her.

Neither of them said goodbye.

Because whatever this was?

It wasn’t ending at the gate.

It was only just getting started.

To be continued