Infatuation

My Perfect Life (Edited)

"Oh! I see him, I see himmm Amay!!!" Nandu squeals excitedly.

I know who my longtime best friend is talking about.

By now, I know his schedule like the back of my hand.

Obsessive much? Nah, not at all.
My friend is worse, though; the stealth with which she gathers any gossip related to him, could rival a trained Ninja.

Better yet, she has faith in her stealthy sleuthing abilities.

Once she'd gone to the extent of scribbling "A.A. loves K.R." on his locker in teeny tiny letters when he wasn't around.

I love her to bits but that was...

Thank Dumbledore nobody saw her.

I ran to his locker for damage-control lest I be busted by him.

I realised immediately though, that I had underestimated my angel.

She'd written it in such a small font that I wasn't able to find it!

Teeny tiny took on a whole new meaning for me.

I still don't know whether he found it...
But...seeing as I've not had any tomatoes or chappals thrown at me...

Bingo!

Nobody else found out!...I guess...

That is why all of us believe it now...
She is Ninja Hatori incarnate...Nandu Hatori.

Currently, however, Ninja Nandu Hatori is being so far from stealthy, it's not even funny.

Witnessing her explosions of excitement whenever he's around us, I could be the best ambassador to ever ambassador for the facepalm emoji.
I've been doing it so often out of sheer embarrassment.

"OhmyGod-OhmyGod!!!" Nandu's sidekicks say, almost jumping out of the flimsy canteen chairs they are aiming to dismantle.

"He's wearing that jacket!"
"The vintage one!!"
"The one with his initialllls!!!!"
"So hot, so hooot!"

I can see what he's wearing from our vantage point and that he does look...well hot, but they're being too loud.

"Oh shut up you two!!" I hiss through my teeth.

Covering my face with my left hand I lean in and say "If they notice our table so shamelessly window-shopping them just because you both, Marie-Antoinette, have springs for backsides....."

I wait for a dramatic moment and say with a devilish smile, "I'm going to steal your candy, ALL of it, and throw it in the BIN when you're not looking!"

They gasp collectively and huddle together with their stash in case I actually deliver my threat.

Manasvi and Anjali are fairly new additions to our tightly knit group of two but they are pretty trustworthy so I don't mind.

Nandu calls them M & A but I told her it was too boring for their whimsical personalities.

Hence the name Marie- Antoinette.

Dragging me back to the present, Nandu gasps and pulls at my left arm, "Look, look; he's talking to that pretty girl from the Annual Day dance, again."

And sure enough, there he is.

Mr. Hot Asshole-ish Crush-of-mine-for over-three-years, is lathering his charisma on the not-so-pretty-girl from the Annual Day dance.

I'm not happy to say the least.

Seeing him talk to other girls, especially the pretty ones that I know has always been....well, my heart does this squeezy kind-of thing, and my stomach starts hurting and I feel like vomiting and sometimes my eyes start stinging as if I'd been slicing too many onions.

To put it plainly, it hurts.

It hurts a lot but I try not to feel too bad about myself; about the fact that I could never and still can't walk up to him and say, "Hey Krish, I like you."

Therefore, ordering him to, "Stay away from them, you're mine!" would certainly not be appropriate.

Seeing my descent into the depths of distress, Nandu tries to console me. "It's fine Y/n. Even if he is talking to her, it doesn't mean that he, you know, 'like-like's her", she says. "He's never had a girlfriend for almost a year anyway."

Yeah.

Sure.

It's not like I ever wanted him to be my boyfriend.

Or like I want to be Mrs. Rana.

I understand that we are not to be.

But...even a smile and a little attention from him for, say, an hour hell, even a few minutes, per day would be heaven.

I know it's not healthy to think this way, but that's the only heaven I can wish to achieve.

A long time ago, The 'Krish Rana' used to be my friend.

Not a very close one, but he had some semblance of respect and friendship towards me, now that I think about it; when and how the threads of whatever we had snapped, I still don't know.

Thus, getting that respect and friendship back from him seems like the only goal I can aim for.

The lunch bell cuts right through any distorted vision I have of achieving to be his anything.

'And just like that', I think to myself, 'even the most insignificant things like the lunch bell, for God's sake, do not dare to let me envision a future with him in it, even as a friend.'

Huh, welcome to my perfect life.