Moyurakhkhi's Cigarettes

14| Dates

Ma was a cluster of thunderclouds, brewing and sparking. "What makes you think you can come home at this hour?" she boomed.

"It's not even 9 pm." I stood at the door, staring dumbly at her.

"Where were you?"

"Huh? I told you, I went to visit Sahal, he has dengue-"

"Why do you care so much about a boy?" Ma practically spit the words.

"Because he's my friend!" I yelped, tired and confused.

She stepped aside, letting me in. "Sure."

"What's- since when do you have a problem with me having guy friends?"

Ma rubbed her forehead, sitting down on the couch. "You're growing up."

I took off the orna around my neck and pointed at my boobs. "I've been wearing D cups for four years. I'm not growing up, I'm grown. Why do you suddenly care?"

"Well, I don't want you mixing with boys anymore and getting ideas about dating some of them."

My parents weren't supportive of relationships, but they were never this strict either.

Something was up. 

And I was going to find out what.

-

"We should hold auditions," Sahal suggested. "Calling all who are interested in dating Moyurakhkhi."

"And ruining your every chance of happiness," I added. 

Fizz and Deb snickcered. 

Sahal seemed offended. "Why would you say that about yourself? Anybody would be lucky to have you."

"Yeah, sure," I said, but I was blushing.

We were trying to come up with a plan. Actually, I was, and I was forcing them to think about it too. We sat on the campus staircase after classes, eating crispy bhelpuri filled with a mash of savoury potato and chickpeas, dipped in a tangy tamarind sauce.

"Aren't we too bothered about this?" Fizz asked. Her beautiful silky hair buffeted in the southern breeze that dashed through the halls of the school, cooling off the summer heat. "She still has more than nine months to ask out four people. And we've got so much studying to do. We should stop fooling around like this."

I brushed her off. "You know what we should do? Spy," I said with the tone of a crazy conspiracy theorist. "Find every guy worthy of my interest and bring him to me. Bonus points if he's out of my league and rejects me. No relationships for Moyu, thanks."

"You're so self-obsessed, talking about yourself in third person" Sahal said, shaking his head. But he was smiling.

The next day consisted of talking to people, spying on bathroom conversations, looking through people's note copies to see whether they'd pass the semester. But most of all, talking to people. By the end of the morning, we were exhausted. 

"The fruit of our relentless hard work!" I declared dramatically. My mouth was dry. "An exhaustive list of all mildly interesting people in our school! Their flaws and their strengths - all in this."

I slammed the list down on our cafeteria table. Then I drank from Sahal's fancy stainless steel water bottle until it was empty. He grimaced.

"I'll start," Debasish snatched the paper. "On top of the list is Arbin Saleh. Pros: hot, captain of the football team, top of our class, the whole deal. Cons: a freaking asshole and will probably humiliate you to the ground."

"Public humiliation? No thanks, I've filled my lifelong quota for that when I misspelled 'brave' in my third grade essay."

"It can't be that bad," Sahal said.

"I forgot to put the v and e, Sahal. 'We must be bra' was a scandal!"

Their laughter reverberated in the school staircase. 

"I was chatting up his ex-girlfriend Nusaiba by the way, you know, putting on the Sahal charm." Sahal grinned. It was the most annoying thing in the world. "Anyways, she revealed that Arbin is very possessive."

"Red flag," Deb said.

"But isn't that Moyurakhkhi's type? 'My Possessive Bodyguard'-"

"Hey!" I smacked Sahal's arm, heat crawling up my cheeks. "Leave my fanfiction library out of this." 

Fizz was cautiously eyeing this exchange between Sahal and I. "Anyways, back to Arbin Saleh," she nudged.

The ultimate verdict was that Arbin Saleh sucked. Next, we had a vape addict, and after that a guy who eats erasers. All the way down to a compulsive mansplainer, I couldn't like a single guy.

But there was comfort in spending a whole day pretending to be spies. It reassured me that in this broken world, we were still kids.

-

Left swipe.

Left swipe.

Another left swipe.

Yet another left swipe.

I suppose I opened the dating app profile out of spite. I obviously have no intention of being in a relationship, but ever since Ma told me I couldn't date anyone, well.

"Why did you swipe left on that one? He was cute, he seems funny and he's studying engineering," Fizz said. The problem with staying in Fizz's room: she was annoying. But she had an AC and tolerating her was better than being sizzled alive in my room.

I grabbed a handful of sliced and seasoned cucumbers from her bowl. 

"It says he's looking for a relationship," I said through a mouthful of cucumber. "I'm gonna ask someone on one date, that's it. Something casual, at best. I can't deal with these clingy, relationship-wanting, loser ass motherfuckers."

Fizz rolled her eyes. "Yeah, for sure, you should have a casual fling. The most hopeless romantic in the world, wants something casual. Ar kisu."

"Shush! Let me concentrate. Ooh, look at this guy," I showed her a handsome guy's profile. "He's 22. 5"10. Fit. Journalist. Loves cats - there's a picture of him with his two cats! Et voila - looking for something casual."

I finally swiped right. 

It was a match. Excitement snaked up my spine and gnawed on my neck.

I sat upright and messaged him.

Since when are journalists this good-looking?

"Wow," Fizz said, peering into my phone. "Behaya. So shameless."

My phone pinged with his notification. "That was fast," I said. My pulse drummed loud enough for me to hear it.

From whenever writers became this hot

Well.

This was going to be fun.

-