The Wrong Indian Flag | LGBTQ+[ON HOLD]

|1| too many goddamn sex questions

"Do you think sex is needed for a relationship to work out?"

I glance at my best friend, Tara, with my eyebrows raised. I wave my hands over the pile of notebooks, textbooks, and general pieces of our sanity scattered over the bed. "How on earth did you think of that in the middle of studying physics of all things? Biology, I may understand where the scope of discussion may arise, but we are talking about prisms and light!"

Her bright cherry-colored lips crinkle up in amusement. "Weeeellll," she says, deliberately drawing out the syllable to annoy me, "one can argue that being the light of someone's life may lead to sex. Aha. Them puns, bro." She winks at me as her devilish smile grows wider at her 'clever' repartee. 

I don't know if I should laugh or strangle her. I end up doing the former as I shake my head, and she turns smug.

"Hopeless case," I mutter.

She ignores me. "Also, 'the scope of discussion'? You sound like a bloody English professor. No, wait, cross that. You sound like a freaking thesaurus."

"You know what a thesaurus is?" I gasp and she flings a pen at me. It misses me entirely and bounces off the desk near the bed.

"I am dumb, but not that dumb."

"Could have fooled me," I reply.

She sticks her tongue out before frowning. "Stop dodging my question, Shilpa. I know it is an uncomfortable topic for you because you haven't ever seen like a half-naked dude-"

"I have indeed!" Affronted, I narrow my eyes at her.

"Cousins don't count and before you say Raj, he doesn't either. He couldn't be man enough if he tried. Did you see his non-existent abs when he 'accidentally' flashed half the school during football practice a few years ago? A real dude has got them packs. Yuhhh."

I stiffen and grow silent at the mention of my 'boyfriend.' But I am not allowed to call him that. He is simply a 'friend,' who I am supposed to marry once I graduate college because Amma and Appa made a stupid arrangement with his family.

"Saying he is not man enough without abs is toxic youth culture, Tara. Stop saying that. Besides, it doesn't matter. We have to study. We haven't even covered fifty percent of our portions yet, and our test is tomorrow-"

Tara shushes me with a weird hissing noise under her breath and then shoots me an exasperated glance. After twisting onto her stomach and propping up her head on her chubby arms, she says, "No, not now! I am serious. Answer my question first. Then we can discuss how a rainbow comes out of a bloody prism and my ass, because, you know, I am secretly a unicorn." She beams up at me when she says the last statement, absurdly fluttering her eyelashes.

"So am I."

"Being a unicorn or being serious?"

My look is enough to answer her question.