Billboard Lovers

Chapter 5: Shy Villainess

The wait was never so long and her intestines never so coiled up. Was it nervousness or hunger? Did the house get colder after Vikrant came in? Aashna could not tell, but in a vain attempt, she drains down her now cold cup of tea.

Vikrant gleams at her from the front door, gesturing a will-be-back-soon while walking into his bedroom. Then the room got quieter than before but the TV was still running. How was that even possible?

From the corner of her eye, she peeps at Mayank, settling on the couch. "Say something to your father, dude. Or to me. ANYTHING," she tries to telepathize. She needed some divine force; some noise or space or if it takes a calamity to take away this anxiety of being the center of attention, then so be it. Anything to kill the deafening silence. Instead, he reduces the TV volume.

Her stomach rumbles.

Not the shy one that could be masked as the random furniture movement of your upstairs neighbour but the one that borderline sounds like a fart.

She looks away at the TV, twisting and trying to choke herself with her pendant. Mayank remains unbothered, playing along with his smooth tresses.

"Maybe it wasn't that loud."

Another gurgle. This time, ending with a long note.

Mayank leaves the room.

Aashna's day was already in shambles.

"Rule number one of this class is to study yourself before studying others. It's easy. You know yourself better than anyone."

Aashna's head was emptier than her teacup. There was something so unnerving about the way Vikrant looked at her, it made her feel like the dumbest person ever. No, he was studying her. His eyes roamed about her scrutinizing every movement of her body, every spot on her skin. He seemed to be moving closer by the second, his features darkening gradually so Aashna could not help but be distracted by the lines on his face. He was an aged man, a little older than her forty-six-year-old father, with shaggy brows framing the crow's feet by his eyes. And when he talked, smiling between his words he flashed glimpses of a perfectly aligned set of teeth—a pretty box smile, just like Mayank's.

"So, tell me, why are you so nervous?" says the box's owner.

"I'm...just shy around new people."

"Why? Are you scared of new people or scared of yourself?"

Her chest felt stifled. She had assumed her honest declaration of fear would make him move slower but he stuck to his agenda. Besides her, diagonally, Mayank's pen suddenly pauses. He peers up, only to return to his math book when their eyes meet.

Aashna clears her throat hoping it would warm up her mouth to frame words. She could no longer make herself look at his face. Then came a laughter, laced with such obscured lunacy it made her want to melt into the marble floor tiles.

"Haha! Why are you hesitating so much, child? This isn't a school test. There is no right or wrong answer. You just have to talk about why you feel something?"

Aashna massages her brows bracing herself to talk. A quick peek at him and she chuckles to soften the mood of the room.

"I-"

"Do you want to use the washroom?" Mayank asks, flipping around the pen in his hand.

"Yes, but to excrete my nervousness, "Aashna wishes to say. "No, I'm fine."

"You haven't peed since you came here. Have some water. You must be dehydrated."

In a room with a barely known middle-aged man and a not-so-compatible schoolmate, while already suffocated by their intrusive questions and stares, having them be concerned over your urinary system is the last thing someone would want. Aashna starts to reject the offer but accepts it anyway when Vikrant sips his tea.