Not A Simple Engineer Boy! | ✓

042 • torsional rigidity | one

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Scrollstck- Suganthi Lakshminarayanan

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Rathna Raja Rathore was one of those annoyingly charming guys who oozed confidence and knew exactly how to wield it. He was cheerfully flirtatious in a way that made Krithika's eyes roll more often than not, but after spending over a year at Xhasis, encountering someone who could make her laugh with genuinely stupid jokes was... well, refreshing.

"So, tell me again why you're taking two whole weeks off?" she asked, narrowing her eyes. "I wasn't aware North Indians celebrated Pongal with such enthusiasm."

He gave her a challenging look. "Lady, you don't know." He cocked his head to one side. "Gujjus would kill to fly their kites as high as possible."

"Oh?" She was intrigued.

"And it's not Pongal for us—it's Uttarayan," he added, sipping from his coffee cup.

When he dropped her off at her P.G., she made the polite mistake of inviting him in for coffee. To her surprise—and mild amusement—he accepted without hesitation. Her flatmate shot her an exasperated look when Rathna strolled in, fully dressed in a crisp suit, while the poor girl was stuck wearing a clumsy T-shirt and pajama combo. She excused herself, almost sprinting up the stairs. If Rathna noticed, he didn't say a word, which made it even funnier.

Scanning the room, he asked, "How many girls live here?"

"Ten," she replied, waving her hand in the air. "Two floors, two rooms on each—the ground and first floor—and one on the second floor."

He nodded like a businessman surveying a promising deal. "Two in each room? Nice."

"What's nice about that?"

"The business model," he said, completely serious. "Hostels and P.G.s are goldmines."

Krithika snorted. "I've always heard Gujaratis are business-minded, but experiencing it firsthand is... enlightening."

He smiled. "Pleasure's all mine." Then, after a pause, he asked, "By the way, isn't there a 'No men allowed' rule here?"

She took a sip of coffee. "Nope. Our rule is 'Men allowed till the living area.'"

"Oh, so no lovers in the rooms unless they're lesbians?" His grin widened, revealing perfect pearly whites. "I take my word back—that's not nice."

Krithika choked on her coffee. "Do you have to be so crass?"

"I speak my mind," he replied, taking the last sip of his coffee and placing the cup down. "Thanks for the coffee, though I would've preferred tea."

She stood, still trying to ignore his earlier statement. Clicking her tongue, she said, "You could've declined the invitation. It wasn't an obligation."

"And ruin my perfect opportunity to ask you out on a date?"

Her eyes widened at his relentless onslaught. "What?!"

Rathna was undeniably good-looking, with jet-black hair, clear skin, and a lean, fit build. He was the kind of guy who could make women giggle with nothing more than a smile. But he didn't have his golden-brown eyes, the ones she couldn't stop thinking about. And no dimple—not like his.

Stop it! She blinked rapidly, trying to erase the memory of the one man she wanted to avoid at all costs.

"I hope you're single. Otherwise, I'm about to die of embarrassment," Rathna's voice cut through her thoughts.

She stared at him. "Pardon?"

"Are you single?"

Bewildered, she shot him a look. "Yes. Why?"

"And hopefully ready to mingle?" He looked at her, his eyes full of mischief.

"I don't know," she replied, her mind still dancing with images of someone else.

"Well," he said with a grin, standing up, "if you figure it out, you can call me. I think I'll like you. And I'm betting you'll like me back."

She pressed her lips together, avoiding his gaze. How was he so confident? And why couldn't she just say yes?

Fiddling with her fingers, she murmured, "I'll think about it."

"Fair enough," he said, winking as he sauntered toward the door. "See you around."

Unabashed flirt, she thought as he bid her goodbye, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

Thoughts... always about one person. The man who, this morning, had a thick yellow-tinted bandage around his left hand—a hand that had held hers last night.

She hadn't missed the pain etched on his face. The way his brows furrowed, lips pressed into a thin line. The way he winced every time he moved that injured hand.

Every time, a string inside her heart twisted, aching to comfort him. But she couldn't. She did nothing.

Do tell me what you feel about this and the upcoming chapters, always open to positive criticism.