Aap Koun Hai? PT 1

Confrontation 😵‍💫❣️

Pulling from my thoughts, I enter the class. I reached the lecture midway, but thankfully I am not too late, so Mr. Murza lets me go after giving me a good five minute scolding . I nod and sheepishly take my seat as everyone stares me down.

I sit down next to Amara biting the inside of my cheeks from the embarrassment, and she nudges me with her shoulder, batting me a "where the hell were you ?" look.

"Later" I mouth to her, and then shift my focus to the lecture, flipping out my books, pens and stationery.

Eventually, my mind forgets the world around me, all I can see is the whiteboard, all the strange words and terms scribbled in blurry blue ink.

Understanding them would take much too much of my already wasted time-so I don't, and instead write away.

We lose track of time , and I don't know how long I've been writing for before my hand starts to ache

Time and time I pass a look at Amara, who lazes on her chair, clicking pictures of the board as the information is written and removed. Damn I envy her.

Sighing, I return to my notes to continue writing,although my hand begs me not to.

But I lurch when I no longer hear the squeaking of the marker rubbing on the board, and Amara clicking her pictures.

I snap my head up only to see Vihaan by the doorway, waiting for permission to enter.

Mr. Murza examines him for intense moments, adjusting his glasses. Even from here, I see him gulp down all the scoldings he would like to hurl at Vihaan for coming so late, that class is almost over.

If it was me he probably would have said it, but alas, he just nods and Vihaan skips to his seat, unbothered.

His seat is in the column opposite to me, and I watch him as he glides in next to his friends.

I lean across the table watching him act all playful and goofy. My eyes narrow thin. How contradictory, I still have the death glare he shot, etched in my mind.

I roll my eyes

What did I even do to him? Why doesn't he like me?

But I can't keep my gaze ahead.

I keep leaning my chair back to stare at him, observing silently-I'm not a creep, but something about him is so intriguing. Who is he? I need to know

He laughs like he owns the room, the noisiest of his two friends. I narrow my eyes , watching, deciphering movements. It's so...tedious not to notice him.

I remember browsing through all those videos trying to find even a little hint about who he is, where he came from, his family, birthday, at least his age. But there is nothing.

No one knows a single drop of information about him. And that is why he is talked about so often.
The more I look at him the more I am desperate to know more about him, to get answers to all these questions. If not for Mr. Leela, then for myself.

Then, suddenly, out of nowhere his eyes flit to me. I flinch not expecting that.

They linger on me for the slightest second before they return back to his friends.

In them were fear.

Of me?

I am thrown off the current of my thoughts because of that sudden movement. I was so lost in my reverie I failed to notice his tense body language when I looked at him.

It's a bit shaky and awkward and I know it's because he knew I was looking at him.
He had caught me looking , and just that thought sent thunderstorms to my stomach.