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9 Nov 2011

Of Simple Lives and Raindrops

The doorbell rang.

I groaned out of sheer laziness as I took the plate of nachos off my stomach and dusted the crumbs off the Abercrombie tee.
I tried hard to shake off the dark mood; no thanks to the dismal, cold weather. 

I should have been happy for my best girl, she’d gotten engaged.
But somehow it didn’t feel right.

I knew exactly what wasn’t right though. I’ve gotten used to having her around and now I didn’t want anything to change. I didn’t want to share the only girl who’d seen through the bad boy act and rapped me on the head when I tried to sip Grey Goose in class.
She was the only one who dared.

For one insane second, I thought I was in love. But I knew almost as soon as the thought flitted across my mind that it was bull. Granted that I might have checked out her ass for a second too long than friends should but that was then end of it.
She might be hot but she was most definitely not his type.
You know how so many thoughts take up a second? I reached for the door knob.

I was completely wet… the rain had left me shivering to the bones. It reminded me of the torrential showers in Kerala, where I’d grown up; it was like Nature absorbing my wrath.
I wasn’t thinking straight. I couldn’t. He was the last person to go to for relationship advice, I snorted at the idea. But I didn’t have a relationship now, haven’t since I threw Karan’s ring back in his face an hour ago.

Nor did I labour under the illusion that advice was what I was going to him for. Nor did I have any doubt he’d feel otherwise. I’d seen the looks.

She was standing there, her clothes plastered to her body, her hair dripping rivulets all over his mat. And she had that look.

He smirked and said, “Look what the cat brought in.” Typical him.
She uttered not a word. Not one.
She looked like she was struggling with something, like an internal war.

“Unless you’re waiting for grass to grow on the door step, get in,” he said.

I never was good with over thinking things. When I do, they don’t work out well.
I grabbed the front of his tee and pulled his head down to mine. That should wipe that cocky smile, I thought.

It did. His eyes widened in real shock as he worked out the next part.
Not that I gave him much thinking time. I crushed my lips against his.

She was an amazing kisser. Where did she learn that? 
I had to fight to keep my hands to my sides.

I shook my head. I should be more worried about the whooping Karan was going to give me. I pulled away.

“You’re engaged.”
“Not any more.” Some irrational part of me enjoyed the frisson of pleasure that ran through me; she was breathless.
“I’m going to Leyla’s place, California.”

We looked at each other for one long second, the air almost crackling around us.
“Is this rebound?”

His hands went behind her as he pulled her up against him. Was she always this soft?
She went limp as her hands met at the nape of his neck. Did he always have such luxurious hair?

As the kiss deepened, buttons and zippers became outlived their usefulness and normal thought processes had come to a standstill.

Breath shortened. The mirrors misted up. Her barely audible sighs filled the laden air.
And the rain belted out a rock song against the windows.

What happened to their story? Maybe someday you’ll know.
But neither California’s lush tomatoes nor Deloitte’s prize package made them forget the beauty of rains in Bangalore.