"Did you hear?" Drashti whispers excitedly as she races up the aisle on her tiptoes, her blue skirt bunching. She is breathing hard when she reaches Tejasswi at the back of the plane. Behind her petite figure passengers for the red eye to States trickle past the first-class cabin.

Tejasswi pauses her work checking breakfast orders to glare at Drashti's blatant unprofessionalism. "Did I hear what?" she asks. Her glare disappears after a moment. She has never been able to stay annoyed at the other girl before her for very long. They have been best friends since her first day working as a flight attendant out of Santacruz five years ago.

"Karan Kundrra is on this flight!" Drashti squeals, and Tejasswi, as she feels her heart rate pick up, is suddenly glad they are mostly hidden from view behind the lavatories. "He's on his way to the States after filming on his latest film wrapped up last night. He's sitting in first class as we speak!"

The petite girl grips the edges of the refreshments cart. Her legs wobble like they can't quite hold her up anymore. She peers around the corner of the bathroom. Crowds of people, most of them businessmen, and businesswomen who look fairly exhausted and not at all happy about having to fly out overnight, jam their carry-on suitcases into the overhead bins. The curtain hiding first class wafts open every few seconds as a new wave of travelers breakthrough.

Tejasswi holds her breath, waiting anxiously, but she catches no glimpse of him.

Drashti is still bouncing when Tejasswi abandons her temporary post. "Isn't that so exciting? Aren't you covering first class on this flight?" she asks, her words pouring out like a rushing waterfall. "I know that Shamita is dying to switch with you now that he's come on."

"She can take it," Tejasswi says quickly. "Tell her. . tell her she can take it."

Drashti stops bouncing. She touches Tejasswi's arm. "Are you okay, Teju? I thought you liked Karan Kundra's movies?"

"I'm fine," Tejasswi says, lying through her teeth. She isn't fine. She feels like the plane is plummeting towards the open ocean and they haven't even taken off yet. But she can't tell Drashti that. Because then Drashti will ask that damned why. Smiling a forced, painful smile at her friend, Tejasswi adds, "And I do like his films. They're great. I just would rather not deal with a celebrity tonight. What's he doing in a commercial jet anyway?"

Drashti opens her mouth to answer her question, or maybe to announce that she also is confused by his sudden appearance on their flight (usually they are warned if a famous person is joining them in the sky), but Shamita rounds the corner of the toilets before she can voice any of the thoughts in her head. With Shamita's tall, modelesque figure in the space, Tejasswi has no room to maneuver out of the way and escape to the free toilet right in front of her. She needs time to panic, and neither of her coworkers is helping her achieve this goal.

Shamita is very excited about the new addition. She buzzes with unrestrained joy. Leaning against the trolley, she vibrates the breakfast trays. Her long, chocolate waves brush her shoulders effortlessly. Her sharp cheekbones jut out as she smiles and giggles breathlessly like some schoolgirl.

"I can't believe it," she says, touching her blushed face. Tejasswi has to stop herself from cringing at Shamita's pre-teen valley girl voice. "I really can't believe he's here. I've been obsessed with him since college."

Hence the transformation back into an annoying sixth grader, Tejasswi thinks snidely.

Not that she hadn't also started watching him on her television when she was a young girl. Nobody could avoid the romantic drama soap opera that started his career. Kitani Mohabbat Hai. The title speaks for itself. She sat on her sofa in front of the small television—the only TV her working mother could afford—and witnessed his character transform from an arrogant young man despising women to falling in love with the heroine every night. Her heart would flutter when he reconciled with his co-star, then plummet whenever they would part ways. Which happened a lot. Thankfully, they always, somehow, survived the partings.

From there she followed his journey to the silver screen. Lined up to snag tickets to his latest film before it was possible to order them online. Spent too much money on follow-up viewings and DVDs.

Everyone likes Karan Kundrra. From his black curls to his husky voice, what is there that is not to like? He is the fresh star of one of the most successful acting generations of all time. He is right up there with Jake Gyllenhaal. Some may even say he is better.

However, she imagines people hurry to change their tune after meeting him in person.

She sure as hell did.

"Tejasswi." Shamita turns to her. She reaches out, taking Tejasswi's hands. "I know you're serving first class on this flight, but could you please, please switch with me?" She bats her long eyelashes. Pouts her pretty lips.

Tejasswi is not in the habit of giving Shamita what she wants. They have worked together for only six months, but that short period has given her plenty of reasons to dislike the lean giantess clutching her hands like she wants to rip them off.

But she also meant what she said to Drashti. Dealing with a celebrity, especially Karan Kundrra, is not on her schedule. She would rather be forced to eat the sausage and egg breakfast tray.

"Take it," she says.

Shamita's grip tightens. She hops in her heels. "Oh, thank you, thank you! You've no idea how much this means to me."

"I think I get it," Tejasswi says, pulling her hands free.

Shamita moves out of the way to gush a little more with Drashti—kinder, sweeter Drashti, who also dislikes Shamita, but who is much better than herself at hiding it—about her obsessive love for Karan Kundrra. Taking her opportunity, she flees to the toilet and locks the door. The light above the sink flickers on. The cramped room smells horrible, but she moves past this. It is the least of her worries. She presses down both taps. Water spills into the basin. Staring at herself in the small mirror, she brings up damp hands and smoothes out the flyaway strands of hair coming loose from her ponytail.

You can do this, she says to herself. You are strong and you can do this.

"Oh, I can't do this," she whines, watching her face crumple in the mirror before her eyes scrunch close.

Is it too late to lie about a family emergency?

Tejasswi pops one eye open and checks her watch. The door will have closed by now. She is stuck on this flight with the one and only Karan Kundrra. Anyone else would kill to be in her uncomfortable flight attendant shoes—it was the 21st century, why were they still forced to wear heels?—and she cannot blame them. He is, after all, incredibly rich and famous and, fine, not that bad to look at.

But she can only assume that none of the people willing to lay down their lives for a chance to serve Karan Kundrra on bended knee had woken up naked in his hotel room in London last year to a note that read, Teju, sweety, your clothes are dry cleaned and hanging in the bathroom. had to jet out early. Karan.

At least he remembered her name.

—

Her ears will not pop. Five years working in the sky her ears still are struggling to adjust to the change in atmospheric pressure. She yawns again, careful not to accidentally swallow and/or choke on her piece of gum. She will have to spit it out in a moment when she brings out the refreshment cart for those unlucky bastards who can't sleep, a task which makes her feel like that two-dimensional character in the Harry Potter books, but she chews it vigorously, hoping it will work its magic before she must rid her mouth of it.

Tejasswi lifts herself away from the hidden crevice at the back of the plane. She glances down the aisle, her eyes catching Drashti and Shamita giggling like children between first and business class. What an odd sight. It must be easy to forget you don't like someone when they've spent the last three hours asking Karan Kundrra if he needs anything. A few passengers stare at her coworkers' lack of proper working manners, which is a clear sign she has to intervene. This is, after all, a redeye. Everyone should be relaxed and trying to sleep. Breakfast is to be served in only three more hours.

She briskly walks between the seats, perfecting her frown just in time. The girls immediately stop talking the moment she invades their personal space. Shamita scrunches her perfect nose at her. Drashti, at least, has the decency to look apologetic.

Pushing her minty gum against her teeth, Tejasswi relaxes her disapproving scowl a smidge. "Ladies," she says in greeting, an unmistakable coolness in the word. "People are looking at you."

Shamita and Drashti look around Tejasswi. When they see she is right, they return their focus to the blond.

"Sorry, Teju," Drashti says. "It's just so exciting. I've never had a Dadasaheb Phalke Award winner on my flight! Shamita was just telling me that Karan has refused every offer of alcohol. He's just been drinking water this whole time!"

Tejasswi is shocked, but not by his lack of alcohol consumption. Drashti has never acted so starstruck. "Great, so he's a killjoy. Good to know. Do you need to convene right here to talk about his drinking habits?"

"It's only for a second," Shamita says tiredly, reminding Tejasswi how unbelievable it is that the taller girl still has a job. She sticks her nose up. "And no, he isn't a killjoy. He's sober. I'm sure you know all about his lineage, him being a 'Punjabi' and their love for alcohol." The way she says it makes Tejasswi believe Shamita suspects she does not know all about it.

But she has a secret. She does know. She heard the stories firsthand, straight from the horse's mouth. The two of them, her and Karan, bonded last August on a hot, humid day in London, about their father's love for alcohol.

If she is honest with herself, those tales of watching his successful friend transform into a beast in front of his eyes are what kept her glued to him that evening. That night. His gentle voice broke and she pressed her mouth to his to make it all better.

She does know. And she also knows Karan Kundrra doesn't need alcohol to be an asshole. He manages perfectly fine without the extra help.

Tejasswi forces herself to smile. "Just get back to your duties soon, ladies," she says. She moves away from Shamita and Drashti, striding back to her hiding spot.

It takes them a few seconds, but the women do it separately. Shamita disappears behind the blue curtain, and Drashti goes up to a passenger who has an issue with their screen. Tejasswi snuggles herself into her lovely corner, the pressure in her ears still refusing to release, crossing her fingers and toes she is not forced to interact with Karan Kundrra.

Only four more hours until they land in John Wayne. Then only twenty minutes before everyone is off of the flight. Then she will be safe and free not to think of the bastard ever again. Well, until she can't fall asleep. At this point, against her will, her brain will replay their night together on a loop, taunting her, daring her to get aroused.

Great, now her mind is filled with memories. She tries outrageously hard to keep them suppressed, locked away, but the stress of him being so close to her combined with her fucking ears and their stupid, fucking inability to pop (the gum was no help) has forced her guard down.

His touch on her thighs floods her head. Whenever she blinks, she sees him undressing in front of her as she lays back against the fluffy pillows decorating his bed. She sees his hardness curved against his abs, jolting with anticipation. Feels his burning hands as they spread her legs, his devilish grin pressing in between her thighs.

And now she is wet. On the job. Hiding at the back of the plane from the dickhead who abandoned her in his hotel room after what she considers the best sex of her life.

She has lost the sick game she plays with herself.

If she thinks about it, which she doesn't want to do, it is lucky that she goes nearly four hours without seeing him. And really, she doesn't see him per se. He just appears when she returns with the refreshment cart. Like a magician. A demon. While the majority of the passengers sleep, careful not to wrinkle their suits, Karan Kundrra pops into view between the lavatories, his signature smirk tugging at his mouth.

Tejasswi is caught off guard. She gasps. Backing into the trolley, she blinks several times in succession, praying he is only an apparition. A ghost haunts her. Not real. But he doesn't vanish. He crosses his blazer-covered arms and his slacks-covered ankles and leans against the door to the toilet opposite Tejasswi's once-assumed-safe nook.

A smug look of satisfaction stares Tejasswi in the eye. If she didn't know any better, she would have been convinced she had entered the set of MTV's Fannah. That look is the same one his character gave his love interests before he pounced on them.

She does know better, though. This is all real. Karan Kundrra, a multi-millionaire actor with one Filmfare Award, two IIFAs, and three—three—National Film Awards, is standing in front of her.

"You remember me," he says tauntingly.

Frustration pours into Tejasswi. His husky voice is still enough to make her sway on her feet a little. She mentally tells herself off for reacting at all to his voice and lifts her chin in defiance. "And? You're a famous actor. Even if we hadn't. . .met before, I would know who you were. I feel like I'm the one who should be surprised. Do you keep tabs on all of your one-night stands?"

Shit. She wasn't supposed to mention the fact that they had slept together. Bad Tejasswi!

Karan tilts his head down, peeking up at her through his lashes. Classic puppy dog. He is famous for it. "You don't look happy to see me. Did our night together really mean so little to you?"

The gall. Tejasswi stomps her foot like a toddler to stop herself from kicking him in the crotch. "So little to me?" she fumes in disbelief, careful to not wake any of the sleeping passengers. "You mean that night that turned into that morning I woke up alone in a hotel room to a knock on the door from a very cruel maid and an empty bed? Oh, wait, it wasn't empty, though, was it? There was a note. Thanks for that. I've got it framed in my bedroom!"

"I meant to call," he says flippantly as he examines the beds of his nails.

Emboldened by something—the arrogance in his words, the fumes of the jet fuel lingering in the stale air, one year's worth of pent-up anger—Tejasswi steps away from the trolley and marches towards Karan. In her heels, she is nearly as tall as him. It's something his IMDb page has wrong about him. He isn't 6'11", he's only 6'1". And in her two-inch heels, Tejasswi is almost able to meet his stare directly.

His green eyes widened for a second before turning into slits. Intrigue shines across his face. He stares back, daring her to say what is on her mind.

So be it. "You're a horrible person," she says, all of the bitter resentment she has felt towards this man bubbling up. She thoughtlessly and carelessly vomits it all over him. "You charmed me with all of your sob stories, fucked me, and left me like I was just another service offered by the hotel. You think because you're famous you can do whatever you want and treat people however you want, but that's bullshit. Other people have feelings. I have feelings. I'm a person too. I wish we had never met Karan Kundrra. Now please, return to your seat before I drag you there by your ridiculous tie."

Tejasswi inhales a much-needed breath. Her skin feels as if it is on fire, but the heat is cathartic. She stares wildly at the actor, whose mouth is parted in shock. He looks almost impressed by her outburst. Almost. . .hurt.

But he can't be. Words don't hurt Karan Kundrra.

"What's wrong with my tie?" he says after a few moments of ringing silence, proving Tejasswi's point. He sulks again. Lifting the aforementioned tie decorated with several landmarks from London, he pretends to examine it while waiting for her response.

The pressure has built in her ears and now she feels like her head may explode. "Why are you on this flight?" she asks, genuinely curious. Not only does he own private jets, but he can also spare the money to nab one in a pinch. What's he doing suffering on a commercial flight where people like Shamita could jump on him at any second?

Dropping his tie, Karan rids his mouth off the smirk. "You want to know why I'm here?" he asks.

The sudden darkness in his eyes is enough to make Tejasswi rethink her question, but she will not back down. Not when she has been dying to have this confrontation for months. "I want to know why."

"You're a clever woman. Can't you tell me what I'm doing here?"

"What kind of idiotic response is that? No, Karan, I can't tell you what you're doing here. I don't know you, I don't know why you need to get to the States on a redeye, and I don't know why you've foregone a private plane in favor of a 787."

The last words have barely left her tongue when Karan reaches up, grabs her face, and kisses her. Her eyes go wide and she contemplates shoving him away—she should shove him away— but the warmth of his mouth, the scent of whatever expensive cream he uses as a moisturizer, weakens her resistance.

Her eyes closed. All of her frenzied thoughts sputter and die. She melts into Karan Kundrra, reveling in the way his rough cheeks rub against hers.

They are closed-mouth kisses that end too soon for Tejasswi's taste. Opening her eyes a centimeter at a time, she is almost startled to find Karan staring at her. He lets go of her face and takes a small step back.

"That's why," he says.

"Why what?" she croaks, her fingers absently running over her swollen, parted mouth.

Karan smirks once more, but this is one he keeps away from the cameras. This is a gentle half-smile piled high with self-loathing. She saw it back in London. At the time, she had thought it was all a ploy to get her into bed, but seeing it here swipes at that conclusion.

He starts playing with his fingernails again. "I knew you were going to be on this flight." He drops his hands by his sides. "I didn't take it because of you," he says. "But every time I fly out of Santacruz, I check to see if you're here."

His confession awakens a morsel of the anger struggling to stay afloat in her blood. "I could be the one telling you which flights I'm on," she says. "That could have been me, but you left me before we exchanged numbers."

Karan sighs and runs a hand over his face. He suddenly looks very tired. "I wanted your number," he says, and before Tejasswi can ask the string of questions that have popped into her head, he goes on. "I did want it. And I know that I went about it the completely wrong way. I made a bloody fool out of myself in writing that note. I thought, perhaps, arrogantly, that you'd be too enamored with me to just leave."

"Wow," she says. "You think that highly of yourself?"

That self-deprecating smirk returns. "I did."

"Past tense," she notes. He nods in affirmation. "And what sparked the change? What managed to finally unplug your head from your ass?"

Karan laughs quietly. "You won't believe me."

"Try me," Tejasswi says, very curious to hear what he can come up with to explain away his past behavior.

"The Giving Tree," he says.

"The children's book?"

"The very same," he says, and Tejasswi is too confused to call bullshit. "I was at an underfunded school in LA reading to a group of school children this book about a boy who takes a tree's love for granted, and I found myself tearing up by the end."

"So you've been trying not to take things for granted anymore," she concludes, incredulous.

"That's it stripped down, yeah," he says, stepping forward. "I took our night together for granted, and I regret that. A lot. The way you were able to get me to open up and relax. . .I've not felt like that in years, Tejasswi."

He still remembers her name.

Dammit.

Fuck it all—she believes him.

"And I'm on this flight," he says, "because my best friend/brother is on his deathbed and my mum begged me to get on whatever plane I could. It's a coincidence that you're here too."

Sure it is. Coincidence.

Does she even believe in coincidences anymore?

Tejasswi slowly nods her head. She is still processing all that he told her. Still trying to work out what it means.

Has world-famous actor Karan Kundrra been hung up on her since they banged in a fancy hotel room a year ago?

Has regular old flight attendant Tejasswi Prakash been hung up on world-famous actor Karan Kundrra since they banged in a fancy hotel room a year ago?

She knows the answer to that one. Despite all of her internal complaints, what pissed her off the most about the note he left was that she had also never been so open with anyone before. She had also never before felt the way she had when she was with Karan. One day with him equaled a thousand, and the abandonment she felt the following morning was worse than any previous heartbreak.

Karan's breath skates over her mouth. He had moved closer. In the low light of the back of the plane, Tejasswi spots the scars on the right side of his face given by the very man he is on his way to see. She lifts her hand and touches it gently, tracing the grooves with the tip of her finger. Grabbing her hand, Karan kisses her palm.

"Fuck it," Tejasswi breathes, pulling herself free from Karan's grasp and tugging on his tie. She starts moving them backward.

"Where are we going?"

Tejasswi nudges the lavatory open with her leg. "In here," she says, checking to make sure Drashti is oblivious to what has been going on. Sure the coast is clear, Tejasswi shoves herself and Karan inside the bathroom and locks the door.

It is not comfortable. It is not romantic.

Tejasswi stands above Karan with her skirt hiked up to her waist, watching as he fumbles with the zipper of his trousers. He hisses when Tejasswi grabs his length the second he frees himself, leaning back against the wall. She strokes him for a moment.

The sight of him bare and throbbing in her hand nudges at that ache in her thighs.

She needs this. She needs him.

Pulling aside her underwear, Tejasswi lowers herself onto Karan. Her arms go to his neck and she buries her head there, stifling a moan as they fit together. He holds her to him. Kisses her cheek. Nips at her ear.

"I'm sorry," he says, the words coming out strangled.

"I forgive you," she pants. She kisses him and he takes her lips gladly.

Their movements are fumbled and jerky. Knowing they have to be quick, Tejasswi thrusts one of his hands between them and guides him towards her center. "Rub," she commands.

He catches on quickly—soon, she is crying her release into Karan's mouth. Breaking the kiss, she collapses against his shoulder, riding him haphazardly as she helps him find his end. It arrives moments after hers. He stiffens beneath her, his teeth going into her flesh to ward off the groan she feels rumbling in his chest.

Not comfortable. Not romantic. But Tejasswi lifts her head and smiles at Karan, pressing her forehead to his. She is happy. And it could be the endorphins or the dopamine or the oxytocin, but she thinks it boils down to the glowing son of Hades gasping in her face.

"You do forgive me?" he says once they've cleaned themselves up and discreetly exited the toilet.

Fiddling with the messy strands of his hair, Tejasswi runs her thumb along his jaw. "I do."

A new half-smile greets her. This one is relieved. "How long are you in the States?"

"Funny you should ask," she says. "I'm on vacation the minute we touch down. I've rented a flat for a week."

"A week," he says. "A week is good."

"Obviously, with your situation, I understand"—

—"Don't bring it up," Karan interrupts. "I'd much rather spend time with you. Need you around me to keep me sane."

Tejasswi leans up and kisses him, noticing that her ears have popped when she hears the rustling of the curtain leading to first-class being pulled aside. She jumps away from Karan. Drashti comes up the aisle, her eyes scanning the rows of seats.

"Go the other way," she says, pointing Karan down the opposite aisle.

"I'll wait for you at the gate," he whisper-shouts as he disappears from view.

He'll meet her at the gate.

Karan Kundrra, an award-winning actor, will meet her at the gate.

What the fuck kind of fairytale has her life turned into?

"You haven't seen Karan Kundrra, have you?" Drashti asks, joining Tejasswi by the trolley.

Tejasswi is glad for the weird lighting on the plane, otherwise, Drashti would have seen her reddening cheeks. "Nope. Why? Has he gone missing?"

Drashti shrugs. "Kind of? Shamita is convinced he's jumped out of the plane."

"I think we'd know if that had happened."

"That's what I said, but she's not exactly the brightest. I think he just snuck off to get away from her."

"Mm, you might be onto something there," Tejasswi muses.

"Who knows." Drashti opens a bottle of water and takes a few sips. "Everyone's asleep. Wanna play a round of something?"

Tejasswi could use a light distraction. Something—anything—to get her mind off of Karan and her childish excitement at the prospect of seeing him again in just a couple of hours. "Sure," she says, steadying her breathing as Drashti grabs her deck of cards.

"Teju?" Drashti says, rifling through her bag.

"Hm?" she says lazily.

Drashti frowns and points. "What's that mark on your neck?"