A Journey From Hatred To Love

Talk About Embarrassment.

Chapter 8: Talk About Embarrassment.

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"Mom, do we have to leave tonight? Can't we stay here for some more days?" My fifth miserable attempt to convince mom.

"Stop it Zee. Weren't you the one who didn't wanted to come here in the first place?"

Yeah but the things back then were different. And I've suddenly started catching feelings for Quentin.

Excuse me bitch? Who told you that?

Your desperation to stay here did.

I want to stay here because I love Mumbai.

Who are you kidding?

A slight knock on the door interrupted my reply to my conscience. That is however, myself. Sometimes I wonder if this is the first stage of a bipolar disorder.

"Come inside?"

WHAT! I'm in my freakin pajamas with my horrible morning face! And my mom just invited that person in?!

"Um," a face peeped in and I was standing near my mom who was packing stuff, with my hairs falling on my face and my eyes bulgy, only to know that that face belonged to none other than Quentin.

Yes, it has to be him.

Yes, kill me now.

I immediately turned back and God knows why I just stood there with my back facing him until he spoke, "Uhm, br-breakfast is ready."

"Oh okay honey. Thank you."

If someone kills me right now, I'd say thank you to that kind stranger for doing so. Because I just made a fool of myself in front of him yet again. I'm so consistent in this case.

~

After having a clean bath and checking myself out in front of the mirror for good 15 minutes, I went out. Quentin smiled at me as I perched on the chair. I took my cup of coffee and wondered why isn't he making fun of me.

He's seen me at my worst and now, legitimately nothing can go any worse. Nothing.

One by one everyone left the table leaving me and Quentin with his empty cup. He was circling his finger on edge of his cup.

"Hey, good morning." I said awkwardly.

He chuckled at my failed attempt to start a conversation and replied, "Morning. You'd enough sleep last night?"

"Um, yeah. Yeah I guess?"

"That clearly didn't seem like it," he chuckled again.

"I.. It's just... Mornings are always mean to me."

That made him laugh. "Yeah sure. But you looked cute."

"Cute? I was probably looking like a raccoon."

"Cute raccoon." He winked. "Your hair? They looked nice at night but in the morning they looked like someone poured a bucket of sand on them while you were sleeping."

"Shut up!" I threw a grape at him.

He laughed, "Don't play with your food!"

"Stop behaving like my mom!"

Putting that grape in his mouth, he got up with his empty cup and walked towards the kitchen. I imitated. While I placed my cup in the sink, he stood there with his hands resting on the counter, staring at me.

"What?" I asked.

He came near me. So near that I'd to chin up to look at him. "I'll have to work on you."