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I consider going over, but nerves hold me back. It’s probably best we don’t have that conversation in a locked room. I want to clear up any misconception she might have about me, but I don’t want to ambush her with it.
I’m jolted out of my thoughts by Zayan walking over to me; he sits on the cushioned arm of the seat, looking down at me with a grin. ‘So, did you enjoy watching Mum and Dad duke it out?’
‘Mum and Dad?’ I question, with a laugh.
Zayan shrugs, and his arm drapes along the top of the seat as he nestles in closer. ‘Ben and I were talking about how Anushka and David are very much the mum-friend and dad-friend of the group.’
I raise a brow at him. ‘You and Ben were talking? Are you two friends now?’
He scoffs and runs a free hand through his hair. ‘No. The Tragedies are your friends.’
‘I see, and you have too many big Hollywood friends already? Can’t you make more?’
Zayan shifts, turning his eyes away from me. I’ve struck a nerve again. It makes me wonder how many friends he has, how many people he can trust, who abandoned him when his TV series tanked.
‘There’s nothing wrong with having a couple more people in your corner,’ I say softly, just for him to hear, and a muscle in his jaw twitches.
He doesn’t respond, but his gaze finally latches on to mine. Usually, when we’re in a group setting, he’s staring at me with a sort of sickly affection that I know is fake. But right now there’s something in his eyes, something soft and warm, that makes my stomach erupt with butterflies.
‘Why are you sitting here, again?’ I blurt out, suddenly overwhelmed by his presence.
His expression smooths out, every inch of emotion being replaced with neutrality. ‘We’re being watched. I just saw one of the crew members take a photo of us.’
Automatically, I start to lean forward to look around, but Zayan tugs me back gently with the end of my dupatta. ‘Don’t make it obvious.’
I look up at him, and his gaze is so warm, lips quirked into a soft smile. Having that look levelled at me turns my bones molten.
It’s nothing but physical attraction from you and acting from him. Rein it in.
Steely determination lines my veins, cold against the heat of what I was feeling before. A reminder that none of this is real, and all of it is a means to an end.
‘You OK, Farah?’ Zayan asks, voice low.
That glint in his eye could’ve been mistaken for concern, if I didn’t know what all of this was. If I still had a celebrity crush on him, living out fantasies that would never be. But I know better. It’s more likely that he’s doubting me – worried I can’t go through with our deal.
To prove him wrong, I plaster on a smile, pretending once again that we’re madly in love.
@TheQuestioner: After reading @TheLSDCATS cast list, I’m curious to know why everyone is making such a big deal about @TheTragedies. It’s so clear The Tragedies are trying to make the LSDCATS look like the villains of this story. I know which play I’m buying tickets for.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The best way to repair major and minor tears in a friendship is by hosting a good old-fashioned get-together. That’s why I’ve invited The Tragedies and Zayan to a meeting of sorts after our classes – it’s been two days since the Escape Room, and while the rest of the cast has really begun to gel, The Tragedies themselves are still fractured because Anushka and David can’t even be in a room with one another. But today we’re fixing that.
I’ve got all the essentials for a gossip session: a towering stack of pizza boxes, multiple bottles of Coke, and freshly made gulab jamun and vanilla ice cream for dessert. I’m carrying all these things, laden with bags, while walking into the Limelight – the venue for the intervention.
‘Need help with those?’ Marvin asks, watching my balancing act with an impressed lift of his brows.
‘Thanks, if you could just get the door …’ I reply, giving him a grin.
He opens the stage door for me, but not before doling out a warning. ‘Don’t forget to clean up after yourselves. I will not have mice running around this theatre.’
‘Yes, Marvin. I’ll make sure you have no new rodent friends to keep you company,’ I call out cheerily behind me. His grumbling has begun to grow on me.
I walk through the doors and find Nur sitting on the stairs leading to the stage, head braced on her knees, crying.
‘Nur?’ I ask cautiously. I set my bags and precarious stack of pizza boxes on to an empty seat and crouch in front of her, placing my hands gently on her elbows. ‘Nur, are you all right?’
Nur lifts her head, and I stare into her bloodshot eyes. She’s been crying for a while. I squeeze her elbows before letting go and moving to sit beside her. Her sniffles fill the silence between us, and I weigh up my choices.
