Meet Indira Devi, an ambitious 18-year-old from India who secures acceptance into her dream university, The London School of Economics. Leaving behind the comforts of her home country, she sets out on a journey to pursue her passion for economics an...
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For the dumbest, most illogical reason, I had never been more nervous to hang out with Noah. And the worst part? I had no idea why. It gnawed at me, like a tiny itch you can't quite reach, driving me crazy.
After our run—which felt more like a marathon designed to torture my soul—I took a long, hot shower, hoping to rinse away the jittery feeling creeping up my spine. But it didn't help. The stupid butterflies were still there, fluttering around like they owned the place, making me feel all sorts of things I couldn't even name.
I tried distracting myself with chai, sipping the warm, spiced tea as I cracked open my textbooks, forcing myself to study. It worked for a while, but every time I looked at the clock, a nervous tickle ran through me. The thought of going out with Noah just... lingered, hanging in the back of my mind like an unsolved puzzle.
What was wrong with me? It was just Noah. We'd done this a million times before—jogged together, joked around, hung out at cafes. So why did today feel different?
I let out a frustrated sigh, looking around my room. It was still a mess, the remnants of last week's chaos scattered across the floor, and that's when I knew what I needed to do.
Cleaning. My cure-all.
When I was stressed? I cleaned.
When I was happy? I cleaned.
When I was overthinking about some guy who probably didn't even realize I was freaking out? Oh yeah, I definitely cleaned.
So I got to work, throwing myself into the task like it was a battle I needed to win. Clothes were folded and tucked away, my bed was made with military precision, and the floors gleamed by the time I was done. The familiar rhythm of tidying up settled my nerves just enough to make me feel in control again.
As I wiped down my desk, I replayed the morning in my head. How easy it was to joke with him, how his arm had casually wrapped around me like it was the most natural thing in the world. And then there was that look he gave me, one that sent my heart flipping upside down like a stupid teenager. I hated how much that affected me.
But it was Noah. My friend. It wasn't supposed to feel like this.
I groaned, collapsing onto my freshly made bed. The ceiling seemed like a safe place to stare, so I fixated on that for a while, wondering when exactly hanging out with Noah had started to mess with my head. It was as if a line had blurred somewhere between us, and now, every interaction felt... charged. More intense. Like there was something we weren't saying, something bubbling just beneath the surface, waiting to break free.
I huffed, running my hand through my hair. This was ridiculous. I was being ridiculous. We were just friends, right? That's all it was. I was overthinking everything.
