How To Not Fall In Love?

8: Deotima

I felt a little turmoil in my stomach. To vent out in silence, I was sitting on the balcony, recounting on the events of the day. These days, I think a little too much about Wriddhi Da. His ignorance has been churning my intestines and I do not feel good in my gut. I feel like I can puke. Suddenly, all my uncomfort gets washed away with the thought of the light brush of his arm on mine.

"Deotima?" His voice was soft and calm.

I turn back to find him standing right behind me

"Wriddhi Da?"

He straight looks into my eyes, almost piercing through my soul. Then walks towards the railing, to stand just beside me. He looks away from me. And an awkward silence prevails.

"You here?" I try to bridge the quietness.

"Why? Can't I be?" He said, stern and strong.

I do not know why, these days, his stern tone brings me chills. I shiver. But he has always been a little too strong towards me. Perhaps, I have started to...like him.

In his presence, I feel my hands fidget, thoughts go from nonchalant to serious and vice-versa.

Am I falling in love with him?

I think my eyes glistened, which didn't escape his sharp eyes. He had noticed my shiver too, I'm pretty sure.

"Are...are you okay?" He asks.

"Yes," I say.

"No, you are not," He says, "Tell me, Deotima."

He senses my discomfort and says, "Is this about school? Studies? Peer pressure?"

"No," I say.

"Then, who is this sadness about?"

"You."

Oh Durga, save me! How can I blurt this out? How can I?

I already had given him enough food for thought when I had asked him whether he had a girlfriend. That was uncalled for. So, is this. He was judging me. Now, he will judge me more.

Adding fuel to fire, were my damned tears.

Can't they stop flowing?

Once when I have got the whole thing rotten, it would be no harm to get it rotten to the core. Let's do this.

"ME?" He chokes, visibly shocked. "I have not even talked with you since the past few days."

"EXACTLY," I exclaim, my words getting muffled with tears. "You...have been...ignoring me...since the past ... .few days. You are..rude to me. It aches...me."

He freezes for a few moments.

He wipes away my tears, with his finger. "Stop crying, first. It hurts me?"

My tears pain him?

"You are going to turn 18 in three days. Still, you have to behave like a child," he says.

Does he remember my birthday?

Another phase of that awkward silence begins.

"Have I been too rude to you?" he says.

I wanted to say, ' oh, hell yes'. But to stick to a simpleton, "Yes."

"I'm sorry, Diya," he says, "I apologize for every action of mine, which made you feel insulted."

He called me 'Diya'. My heart flutters, I feel a butterfly flap its wings in my stomach.

He holds his ears. And murmurs another apology.

Oh my word, what a lovely scenario. An intelligent, charming, handsome, young man, holding his ears, apologizing to me.

"Am I forgiven?" he says, still holding his ears.

"Yes," I say, faking dead expressions.

"Can you say something other than yes/no? Please."

"This...this side of yours is..." I stop.

"I'm sorry again, Diya," I didn't mean to hurt you. "I'm sorry."

He was apologizing for something that he did not even do. He just did not talk to me. And why would he even bother talking to me? Who was I- a friend's little sister. I was not his friend.

"Friends?" he says.

Can he read my mind?

"Pardon?" I say.

"Can we be friends? I can compensate for all your problems."

"Yes, sure. Friends."

Things escalated a little too quickly. I had not expected him to melt down this way. I thought that he hates me. But, here, he turned into a goofball. I was wrong. He's so cute.

"DIYA," he mother calls me, from the other room.

"Aschi," I tell her.

"Wriddhi Da, I need to go," I say.

He was still looking at me, his gaze so soft and gentle. So comforting.

"You look good today," I turned back to tell him.

He looks away, his smile, shy and soft. The wind gently ruffled his kempt hair.

It was a serene scene. He is beautiful, I can conclude.

I was too brave today. I don't know what will happen later. Oh Durga, save me, please.