The Wrong Indian Flag | LGBTQ+[ON HOLD]

|3.2| to borrow and to binge

"Thank you so much, Shilpa. You are a literal godsend for teaching me all this." Alisha holds her arms out, asking for a hug and I step forward into it immediately. Her hair smells like rich cocoa and butter and I inhale it. I can feel her smile against my neck as if she knows I am being a creep.

We pull away and when we do, I feel this odd sensation as if I have lost a limb or something.

Pulling her phone out from her back pocket, she looks down at it and jumps up. "Fuck. I didn't realize it was this late. "

I hadn't either. It is nearly 9:30 p.m.

She runs to the window of my room that faces the driveway and hisses. "Oh god, he is gone with the car. My driver leaves by 9 today. He told me to be down by 8:30. He even called me thrice and I had kept my phone and on silent and didn't notice. I was supposed to leave an hour ago for him to take me home because he was to leave for some out-of-station thing for the weekend. Shit."

As if she senses herself getting too worked up, she breathes out through her nose to calm herself, her eyelashes fluttering slightly.

"Why don't you spend the night? I'll ask my driver to drop you off tomorrow," I stutter out.

"Really? I don't know. I don't have any night clothes and you know we don't know each other too well. I don't want to intrude." She fingers the edge of her t-shirt.

"No, stay. Really." I place my hand on hers and she inhales sharply and draws it away. This action creates a hum under my skin as well.

"All right. Thank you."

"I just have to confirm with my Amma first. Why don't you let your parents know as well?"

"Uh...they don't live here."

My eyes widen. Before I can ask what she means by that, she waves her hand in a dismissing manner. "I'll explain it to you soon. It's a...long story."

"All right. Be back soon."

I find my mother in her room, scrolling Whatsapp.

"Mumma, can Alisha stay over?"

When she doesn't respond, I ask again, only louder.

"Amma, can Alisha stay over tonight for a sleepover?"

Still no response. What is it about Indian mothers and Whatsapp?

I slap my hand on the wooden edge of her bed as I call out bitingly, "Mumma!? Amma!"

My mom's eyes flash up to mine angrily. "What, beta?"

"Can. Alisha. Stay. Over?"

A smile captures my mother's sweet face, creasing the edge of her large eyes. "Of course, beta. She is always welcome here."

I expected her to say the same. Alisha wooed my mom the moment she had walked through the door. Despite her posh American accent mixing in with her Hindi, her charm beguiled my mother immediately. I don't speak enough Hindi to her, and Alisha's Hindi knocked her dupatta off.