October 2016
"Who's making the dinner?" I ask mom as I linger near the kitchen entrance.
"You tell me. I can cook today. Feeling good."
"You sure? Honestly, I'm bored of eating self cooked food." I hear a creak.
"Yes of course. What do you want?"
"Rajma chawal!" Mom rolls her eyes fondly at me.
"Didn't soak it yesterday. Aloo paratha?"
"Yes!" I stand there as she busies herself with boiling the potatoes. I open my phone and read a text from Hardik.
*PG food sucks! I'm going to subway! >_<*
I smile at it and start typing a response when I hear the creak again. It starts getting louder and more frequent by the second. I look around, thinking maybe there are mice. I finally look up and notice that the sound is coming from the ceiling fan. Funny, how come there's a sound when it's switched off?
Something clicks in my brain and my body catches up before my mind does. I rush over to mom and push her out immediately. As soon as I do, the Plaster of Paris surrounding the fan cracks and falls on top of me.
*******
"I thought you guys were horrible as enemies, but you're intolerable as a couple!" Muskan says as she looks at us with a pout. We start laughing as she starts grumbling even more.
We walk out the Topper gate and go to the parking lot, standing there and talking for a while. I'm staying back for doubt counter in the evening.
"So we'll see each other at the doubt counter in two hours?" Muskan says to Hardik.
"Why do you even need two hours!? Just go to your apartment, stuff yourself with food and come back in an hour!" He looks ready to argue with Muskan.
"Kiddo, c'mon. I'm tired. And my arm hurts too." I point to the crepe bandage on my left arm. His face shifts immediately.
"How did you get hurt again?" Muskan asks angrily. Kiddo looks at me. I had told him last night itself, after the incident. There was some injury on my head too. He was agitated, to say the least. But in some twisted way, I was happy that someone cared.
"I was going to Nandini's house for our weekly rendezvous when my vehicle slipped." Muskan believes it. Of course she does.
There's a guy standing next to Kiddo with his back to us who's unlocking his bicycle. He immediately goes, "How careless."
"Who are you and what did you say?" He turns around and the first thing I notice is the abundance of facial hair. Although his voice sounds familiar.
"I said you're a reckless driver who doesn't know how to handle herself."
Kiddo starts grinning and then says, "Jaan, this is my new hostel friend, Abhimanyu. The one you spoke to... I mean abused earlier on the phone."
Hairy's face remains impassive as he stares at me with challenge in his eyes.
"So you're the himbo who keeps shouting in the background while I talk to him!?" I ask him harshly.
"Yes, I'm the himbo!"
"Do you have no respect for people's privacy?"
"And apparently, your boyfriend has horrible taste in girls, as I can see! Did I take offense to that!?"
Muskan and Kiddo's eyes go wide as Muskan mumbles, "What is happening...? Since when do people sass HER?"
"She met her opponent."
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Meet Me in the Middle
Teen FictionSometimes, life can surprise you. Even if it takes longer than you thought. For Ayesha, life was a series of calculations and logical choices. She had it all. Good grades, understanding parents, fun friends, popularity and a brain she prouded hersel...