Rules of the Game

Shaan

I try to block out the last thirty minutes from my head as we shoot. The best athletes learn this skill quite early; how to keep the scary thoughts at bay and focus on the right now. Four of us are featured in this reel. Roy doesn't have patience for this stuff and wants to get it over with. So everyone is rushing to shoot which weirdly delays the whole thing. I keep wondering why would Roy come over to grab me? He has never done anything like that before. Only thing I can think of is that Rian must have spilled. I am not mad at Rian even if he snitched. Hell, I would have done the same thing years ago. I personally hate the politics but making a place for yourself with the seniors and the management is part of the game.

We finally take our chairs and the camera team makes last minute adjustments. Today, we have to battle it out over tongue twisters. While the host is explaining the rules, my mind pulls out a memory of playing tongue twisters with Sunny, one night during the West Indies tour. He was so bad. I smile remembering how many times when reproducing Oonth ki peeth oochni, he would always end up saying Oonth ki poosh poochi after five turns.

The game finally starts. Everyone does the first few easily. There are some new Hindi ones that any other day I would have destroyed but I barely manage to say them. The words of 'She sells sea shells...' keep slipping in my mouth like my tongue has turned into a jellyfish. Roy and I lose. The team's PR manager thinks I am disappointed and tries to cheer me up, "Shaan Bhaji, you are hilarious. Your expressions...what can I say...so real. I bet you get 5K more followers after I post this." I smile at his consideration but I knew I had no chance. I have not mastered the block, and my game is always at the mercy of my heart.

"That must explain it."

Explain what, B-side? I used to think everyone had a shadow self they talk to but turns out it isn't true. Some of you are unfortunate enough to never experience it.

"Why you did so well on the NZ series. And why you are going to have an explosive game tomorrow."

I wait for my subconscious to float up the reason that explains the sly comment.

"You have your heart back."

I melt with realization, and immediately want to run back to Sunny like a damsel in distress, and beg him to love me.

"Aren't you getting a bit ahead of yourself? You just took your first step learning to walk and you are already signing up for the marathon."

Shut-up Bside!

After the shoot, I roam around aimlessly trying to find a place to hide until the team meeting starts. I cannot go back to the room. My room! The bastard came out of the shower, and did not even bother to put a shirt on, distracting me throughout our argument. He texted me when I was at the shoot. I haven't looked at the text. I am embarrassed that I steamrolled him into kissing me.

'Get it out early.' I am going to kick Hari Bhai for that idiotic piece of advice. But I can only kick myself for concatenating the stupidest plan. B-side's opinion was either confront the situation or go insane, plucking flowers, and playing 'he wants me... he wants me not'.

"I love playing that game."

Few hours ago I was sure that kissing Sunny will prove to me that he did not like me that way because the dude literally had years to tell me otherwise. And then I will proceed to discuss with my best friend my other worry. "Hey dude, guess what...I am not repulsed by the idea of kissing a guy, so...do you think I am like...bi?" But now I have an entirely different problem.

Maybe all straight guys dream of kissing their best friend? How would I know? Who would I ask? I wanted some answers, and boy did I get some. His explosive reaction was the hottest thing that has ever happened to me. I have been plagued by dreams of his hands and lips all over me for months. B-side is right. I am already in deeper than I want to admit. I am pretty sure he wants me too. But how into me is he? Is it fun and games? or something else?

"Shaan, my friend, you have to tread this carefully. Gaining something here will mean losing your best friend."

But I cannot leave this confusion between us either. I have to pick a team to play for, and I have a feeling my heart signed the contract long ago without asking my opinion on the matter.

I am about to side with my heart when my phone rings. My mother on the other side is sweet as always. I feel ashamed of picking up her phone with, "Ma, what is it now?" As is her daily duty, she makes sure I am ok, that I have eaten and that I am focusing on my game. She reminds me of all the things that depend on me doing well. That I have to take advantage of this gift that God has given me and my family has nurtured. "Don't party-sharty, and don't get distracted." I promise and hang up.

My home screen is a picture of my family. I look at my home screen for a long time, and suddenly tears stream down my face. I make sure I am in the conference room alone. Soon the team will be here. Until then, I allow myself to be miserable. I wish I could tell my mother that the box doesn't fit me anymore. I wish I could tell her I feel stifled in its stale air. My gift is what is important for everyone around me and Shaan is slowly disappearing. I haven't got the words or the heart to tell her that, and she wouldn't understand anyway.

"But Sunny only wants Shaan," B-side chimes in.

A faint smile returns to my face, and I wipe off my tears.