As Anirudh stepped out of Lisbeth's office, his mind kept drifting back to her killer legs wrapped in those black stockings. Then came the flash of her red panties—damn the dim light, he couldn't tell if they were silk or satin. A chick who rocked red underwear had to have some fire in her soul. Girls like that usually needed a guy to cool them down—or heat them up. How else could she shrug off his ballsy comment and hit him with that wild request without batting an eye?
Grinning like he'd won the lottery, Anirudh strutted into the next class and locked eyes with Laila again. He made a beeline for the seat next to her, only to get hit with her trademark arctic stare.
"What, I owe you cash or something?" Anirudh tossed out, totally thrown. Why was this girl always so frosty? Sure, he wasn't some storybook hero, but he cleaned up nice—Lisbeth, their drop-dead gorgeous prof, had practically drooled over him.
"Huh?" Laila, thumbing through Instagram, blinked up at him, clearly not expecting him to open his mouth—let alone drop that line.
"We're buddies, right? Why the perma-freeze? Flash a smile—you'd be a knockout!" Anirudh said, scratching his head.
"Why would I care about that?" Laila fired back, her voice flat as ice after a brief pause.
"Alright, forget it—talking to you's like chatting up a brick wall!" Anirudh threw his hands up, done with this ice princess. Every girl wanted to look hot—how could she even ask that? She was barely human!
Laila's eyebrow twitched, ticked off by the "wall" dig, but she just flicked him a look and buried her nose back in her phone. She was the wall, and he was just a puff of smoke to her.
Anirudh wasn't about to waste more breath. He was half-ready to ditch her and scope out some friendlier faces when the door banged open. In swaggered a guy decked out in a flashy suit, trailing a pack of goons. Anirudh would bet his last buck these clowns weren't enrolled here.
"Laila…" The dude scanned the room, zeroed in on her in the corner, and lit up like a kid on Christmas as he charged over.
Laila peeked up, gave him a quick once-over, and scrunched her face like she'd smelled something rotten before diving back into her book. This guy—prime eye-candy for most girls—didn't even rate a second glance. Anirudh's ego did a little victory dance.
"No way I'd peg you for Chicago Business School. I had you down for New York. What, you here for me?" the guy chirped, brushing off her arctic vibe.
Anirudh groaned to himself. Another lovesick puppy chasing Laila. What was the deal with these guys drooling over a walking iceberg, practically sprinting to kiss her boots? And saying she came for him? Ballsy move.
Anirudh was about to clear out and let this sap annoy her when the guy's eyes landed on him. That cheesy grin turned into a thundercloud.
"Who's this loser cozying up to Laila? Beat it!"
Anirudh, halfway out of his chair, dropped back down with a thud. Oh, hell no—he was gonna step aside, but a loser? Now he was planted. Bring it on, pretty boy!
"Laila, you have bacon for breakfast or what?" Anirudh said, turning to her like the jerk didn't exist.
"Nope. Why?" Laila glanced up from her book, thrown off.
"No bacon? Weird. Then why's some mutt barking up a storm in here?" Anirudh deadpanned, sniffing the air like a bloodhound.
"Pfft—" Laila cracked up, her laugh cutting through the room like a ray of sunshine in winter. Those dimples? Pure magic. Even Anirudh couldn't peel his eyes away.
Straight-faced, she was a zombie—but that smile? She was a freaking angel.
The suit guy froze, hooked by her laugh too. He'd known her for years and was damn sure he'd never seen her crack a grin.
But reality hit fast. This punk just roasted him!
"You talking smack about me?" he growled, lunging for Anirudh's collar. Too much booze or late nights must've sapped him—Anirudh didn't budge an inch.
"Me? Nah…" Anirudh shook his head, playing dumb.
"You called me a dog!" the guy bellowed.
"I was talking about a dog…" Anirudh said coolly, brushing off the death stare.
"Pfft—" Laila giggled again. This cocky flirt was starting to grow on her—his sneaky jabs were gold.
The guy's face went from red to roadkill purple. Nobody had ever dissed him like this. He swung a wild slap, but Anirudh snagged his wrist mid-air. Before the dude could blink, Anirudh's free hand cracked across his cheek with a loud "smack!"—five red fingers blazed on his face like a neon sign.
The guy went blank. His posse stood there, jaws on the floor. Even Laila's mouth hung open. Nobody saw this brawl coming so fast…