‘I can’t come with you, Daksh,’ I refuse.
‘Your parents are at the cooking workshop. They aren’t going to be free for the next . . . at least an hour.’
‘I know, but it will be one more lie I will have to tell Vicky. The list’s getting longer and I don’t like it.’
‘It’s going to the market, it’s not a date.’
‘It’s going to the market alone with a guy who has told me he has a crush on me. There is a considerable difference,’ I correct him. ‘I can’t even tell him I met you.’
He frowns.
‘He doesn’t like it when I talk to other guys,’ I explain.
‘And what’s one more lie when you have told him one? Come, I will get bored without you.’
Fifteen minutes later, I’m riding on his rented scooter to the market nearby. For a few split seconds every few minutes, he puts my hand on his waist to steady himself. I’m not cheating on Vicky, but he would call it that. Guilt washes over me in small waves. It happens more when I let my eyes linger on the little stubble on his face, the angle his jaw makes with his neck, his thick eyebrows.
‘That kind of girl.’
We stop at a chemist, and he orders lens solutions, a pack of diapers, a strip of Flexon and two Cornetto ice cream cones. We eat our Cornettos and he asks me how Vicky and I met.
‘We didn’t meet frivolously at a party where ourvibesmatched.’
‘I sense a slight mocking tone in your voice,’ he smirks. ‘But go on.’
‘We were in the eleventh standard. I found him outside the vice principal’s office, furious, absolutely enraged. A few people had cheated on an exam. They would have scored more than him. He was there to complain.’
‘I think I can guess who was the most unpopular kid in your school.’
‘I was there for the same reason,’ I inform Daksh.
‘Now I can guess who were the top two unpopular kids,’ he chuckles.
As I tell him more about Vicky and he tells me more about Sameeksha, the contrast between us becomes clear to me. His is like a puppy in love, an unplanned relationship of two people who want to do nice things together, such as going to movies and parties—harmless but overall pretty empty. Mine’s what a relationship should be like—a path for growth for both, a future to build. A relationship that can obviously withstand the confession of a crush from a random guy.
‘I’m eventually going to tell Vicky about you . . . just have to find the right time.’
‘There’s nothing to tell,’ he says.
I bite into the ice cream. ‘It’s the first time I’m doing something like this.’
‘That’s literally the rule number one of vacations. You do things you haven’t done before. Normal rules don’t apply. We are just hanging out. And you won’t even remember this holiday, or me, in a few months from now. So chill.’
He pats me. His touch is so casual. It doesn’t mean anything, of course. But it goes to my list of things I can’t tell Vicky about. The list of things that signify we were nothing.
‘I’m chilling. This is the most chill I have been in the last two months. The stress of the results . . .’ I say. ‘It felt like I had taken a huge breath and I couldn’t let it out till my results were announced. But this holiday . . . it’s brought some of my breath back. It’s a good distraction.’
‘Good to be a part of the distraction,’ he says with a warm smile.
‘I can’t believe Gaurav didn’t stop me from going with you,’ I remark.
‘FIFA—’
My phone ringing interrupts him. It’s Vicky. My stomach churns with guilt. I collect myself and receive the call.
‘Good morning, jaan.’
‘The integration question, the last one,’ he stutters. ‘What was your answer?’
