The Life Of An Indian Girl

No. Non. Nada. Nahi.

You see, usually cameras were used to capture memories and sweet things like that. Unfortunately the asshole under me doesn't understand that. I tell you, not every single man is gifted with a functional brain.

I stupidly look to the side and there was a camera on my wooden dresser and from the angle in which it was placed it could capture the whole compromising position me and this useless fool was just evilly smirking at me.

I hear the click of the camera as it all processes in my head.

He took a picture of us.

Like this.

One on top of the other.

No.

Please.

I turn my head back to him as he gives me a lop sided smile. Well he asked for

"You asshole, I hate you!" I yell getting off him and barging into my bathroom to find minimum peace.

I hear him get up,

"Tarai don't make a fuss out of this I was messing with you," he says and I grimace.

Tears trickle down my cheeks. What if he actually shows it off to his friends? Posts it?

I hear him knock on the door it was more like banging but I could care less right now.

"Tarai, open up." he orders but I sniffle my tears in response.

"I wont post it. I'll delete it if you want," he coaxes me but I just shake my head.

He tries to turn the handle but no avail.

He wasn't going to open it. I sense him walk away and I prop my hands on the sink. I should take a shower.

I sit on the ground but then get up to splash my face with water, it's cooling down the scorching anger.

My sense were feeling droopy how should I say. I close my eyes enjoying the peaceful silence.

I always speak too soon.

I hear the door fly open with a startled looking Rahul eyeing me up and down.

Look man, I know that I've got a nice figure but he was eyeing me up and down. The water was still on my face and was dripping onto my T-shirt. The part of my shirt just above my chest was wet and it hinted at my bra. My first reflex is slam the door shut while panting. Now that was quite embarrassing.

"You bloody jerk!" I yell at him. Through the door, I hear him grunt in frustration.

"Im sorry, I didn't know you were changing!" he says, his footsteps fading away for good.

I let out a frustrated cry and angrily punch the closed door.

"Could you just give me a towel?" he asks and I roughly grabs one, slightly open the door and hold it out.

I feel him take it from my hand and our fingers slightly brush and I feel electrocuted.

Curse him.

I hate that bastard.