Chapter 9 #2
from the cold.
Oh god, I forgot to wear a bra!
“What?” Rudra looks up, staring at me.
I wrap my arms around my chest and stare back at him, trying to look nonchalant. “What?”
“Do you need something else?”
Valid question, Krishna. What excuse do you have for not having left already?
“Oh, not really,” I say, pursing my lips and desperately trying to think of something else to say. “I was just trying to figure
out what song you’re covering?”
There, perfect.
“Not covering.” Rudra turns his attention back to his phone and guitar. “Composing.”
“Composing? As in, an original?”
“Yep,” he says, chewing on his lower lip, probably not having expected me to be interested in what he’s doing. Or maybe he
thinks I’m just trying to be polite because not asking at all and leaving might be rude.
A part of me wants to leave, given my current braless state, but the other is itching to listen to Rudra sing.
The latter wins.
“Can I listen?” I ask, arms still around my chest, hoping he sees that I’m being sincere.
Rudra hesitates. “It’s not complete.”
“That’s okay.”
“All right.” He scoots back on the bed, and the sheet smooths out in front of him, leaving space for me to sit. I dump my
dirty clothes and towel on the chair nearby. Then I perch on the edge of the bed, which creaks ever so slightly, and peek
at his phone. His Notes app is open, with a bunch of lyrics and chords haphazardly written down.
“Ready whenever you are,” I say, propping my bare legs on the bed. Rudra glances at them once before hastily looking away.
“Here goes.” He inhales deeply, eyes shuttering closed, and begins to strum. He plays a soothing fingerstyle pattern, periodically
tapping the wood of the guitar in a distinct rhythm. The tune reminds me of the songs one would play in open cars on road
trips, like “Khaabon Ke Parindey.” His fingers move smoothly over the frets and strings, and I watch them in fascination.
And then he starts singing.
His voice is soft yet deep, and his lyrics switch between English and Hindi with ease, much like in Prateek Kuhad’s songs.
His enunciation is clear, so the lyrics are easy to follow, and at one point, I shut my eyes to pay attention to them. It
takes me a bit to figure out the meaning, but when I do, I find myself pleasantly surprised.
I open my eyes about halfway through the second verse, finding his still closed. I fixate on his Adam’s apple again, his lips,
and the fluid motion of his hands. He finishes the song with a beautiful, melodic outro. I gulp as his eyes finally open,
a dazed look in them.
I’m floored.
And so on edge that when he directly meets my gaze, my insides turn to mush.
He sets aside his guitar. “So yeah. That was it.”
I think I’ve forgotten how to speak, because I can’t come up with a single adjective, let alone a sentence, to explain how
I felt about his song. And how it shot an arrow so close to everything I’ve felt the past couple of years.
There’s only a bare gap on the bed between us. The room is so quiet all I can hear is the sporadic dripping of water in the
bathroom and the groan of the AC.
“The song was about . . . bisexuality, wasn’t it?” I finally say, tentative. “About questioning if your identity is valid
because you haven’t been with a boy?”
Rudra’s eyes widen in surprise. “H-how did you know?”
“I feel the same way. Always questioning if I’m bi enough.”
“Oh.” Rudra looks away, biting the inside of his cheek. “That’s, um . . . me too.”
I can’t help the warmth that pours into me.
Rudra is bi, like me!
A goofy grin splits my face. I just love getting to know other queer Indians; it makes me feel a lot less alone. I rub my
arms as a fresh wave of goose bumps pops up. “Also, that was beautiful. That fingerstyle was orgasmic, and so was your voice.”
It’s only when I’ve uttered the sentence out loud that I grasp how it sounds.
One corner of Rudra’s mouth hikes up. “Orgasmic?” That maddeningly cute dimple appears again.
“You know what I mean,” I say, flushed.
“No, please, enlighten me,” Rudra teases, which is so unlike him. After a moment, he adds, “Thanks, though.”
I duck my head, vacantly drawing lines on the bedsheet with my finger. “I—I’m not out to everyone yet. So would it be okay
if you said nothing of this to Priti?”
“Of course,” Rudra says. “Though you might be surprised to find she’s a lot more understanding of this than you think.”
I shake my head. “Things are just too rough between us right now. You know.”
“I understand.”
“Does she know? Priti—does she know about you?”
“Yes, she does. But hey”—I lift my head, meeting his gaze—“whether or not she knows about me doesn’t matter. I won’t tell
her about you.”
We look at each other again for a moment too long, and I notice how soft his eyes are, his sclerae dotted by the deepest-brown
irises. Were they always this . . . warm? There’s a tug on the corners of his mouth, the hint of a smile, and my gaze drops to his lips—before my conscience is suddenly
activated and gives me a swift roundhouse kick. I drop my legs to the floor, face poker-hot and body ice-cold.
“All right—I guess I’ll get going.”
Rudra nods quickly. Too quickly. “Yeah.”
“Good night,” I say. “Thanks for letting me use your washroom.”
“No problem.” Rudra ducks his head back down to his phone. “Good night.”
I rush to the door, my face burning. I’m surprised I haven’t turned into a beetroot already. It’s only when I’m out in the
corridor again and the door’s shut behind me that I take a second to pause.
I haven’t had many moments with people in my life, but the few that came close were with Amrit.
The heat filling my cheeks, the butterflies flapping their wings in my stomach, the feeling of nervous anxiety that makes me want to throw up and give in to the skittishness at the same time.
They’re as familiar as a next-door neighbor.
Oh god.
Am I starting to like Rudra?
When I’m back in my bed, it’s that thought that keeps me from falling asleep, so against my better judgment, I start scrolling
through Rudra’s Instagram, stalking his account thoroughly, scouring every video or post he’s ever put up.
Talk about desperate.
The worst part? It makes my silly crush on Rudra just grow. Everything about him suddenly feels new, as if I’m discovering him for the first time instead of, you know, getting to know
him better, having met him first seven years ago and all that. The fact that he’s so talented doesn’t help. Like, talent is
the single most attractive thing in a person, right after intellect.
I hate this.
I’m on my way to kiss a boy who might be the nicest guy I’ve ever met, happens to be cute as shit, and likes me back.
That has never happened to me! And here I am, having moments with Rudra Desai when Amrit Acharya is less than a day’s journey from me.
Amrit Acharya, the boy I’ve been obsessed with all
summer.
The boy who wants to kiss me.
I want to throw up. I told him I liked him yesterday, and I do, I really do. So why is this happening?
Once I’ve hit the end of Rudra’s page, his oldest posts going back six years, I text Srishti and tell her everything. As always,
she’s up and responds immediately—which, she shouldn’t be, because she’s leaving for her trip early tomorrow.
@srishti_without_an_h
wow krish i just checked out mr desai’s page
dude he’s too good. im mind blown.
he could do with a better handle tho
@notkrishnakumar
Bro I need advice on what I’m supposed to do.
I can’t spend another day with Rudra bc I’m finding him more and more attractive by the second
@srishti_without_an_h
okay so like . . . team #krishudra all the way then?
@notkrishnakumar
THAT IS NOT WHAT I’M SAYING!!!
IM ON MY WAY TO KISS AMRIT, REMEMBER??
Besides, Priti likes him too. It isn’t right.
@srishti_without_an_h
only if she had explicitly told you she likes him
but she hasn’t
you have no idea about her really.
@notkrishnakumar
Weren’t you team #krishrit until yesterday??
@srishti_without_an_h
#krishrit has a nicer ring to it, but imho amrit is so done
rudra has got that grumpy thing going which is like perfect for you, opposites attract and all that
@notkrishnakumar
You’re not making this any better
Besides, he’s not really . . . grumpy. He’s just quiet, and reserved, and he broods.
You know he told me I had delusional ideas about romance?
@srishti_without_an_h
it’s like y’all are made for each other lol
@notkrishnakumar
SRISHTI!!! THE CHOICE SHOULD BE REALLY CLEAR!!! It’s Amrit
@srishti_without_an_h
look, if you were THAT into amrit, it wouldn’t HAVE to be a choice. you wouldn’t (and i say this respectfully) be crushing on another guy within 24 hours of saying goodbye.
@notkrishnakumar
God, I’m a terrible person. I should just change my handle to @terribleperson
@terribleperson2491
There
@srishti_without_an_h
AHSJNDJWKNS NOT YOU ACTUALLY DOING IT!
CHANGE IT BACK BEFORE SOMEONE SEES IT IDIOT
and you are NOT a terrible person!!! you’re a normal teenager, with hormones and feelings AND YOU ARE NOT AMRIT’S GIRLFRIEND
you just wanted a fling with him anyway ffs
there’s only one thing that can help you atp tbh
@terribleperson2491
What???
@srishti_without_an_h
change ur handle first
@notkrishnakumar
Okay fine. Done. TELL ME.
@srishti_without_an_h
a pros & cons list
@notkrishnakumar
Omg I’m not going to make a pros and cons list to pick between two guys
@srishti_without_an_h
why not? it’s a perfectly good way to land upon a decision
ace peeps give really good romantic advice, you know that, which is why you should trust me on this
now will it be #krishudra or #krishrit? tune in to the next episode!
also, I should get some sleep, I’ve got to be up early tmmrw
when I get back on tuesday, tell me E V E R Y T H I N G
@notkrishnakumar
Pakka promise
I lie in bed with my phone facedown on my chest, Priti blissfully snoring next to me, and really think about it for a few moments.
A pros and cons list might be a good idea.
I pop open the Notes app and start typing. Except . . . I don’t type in anything besides their names. Because a second later
I feel like the shittiest person in the world for making a pros and cons list about them.
Here I am, feeling awful, when I know I’m not here to claim “the one.” I’m here to add some tadka to my unromantic life. Rudra is a distraction, and an unattainable
one, at that.
The choice isn’t between Rudra and Amrit. The choice is whether to claim my kiss. Without drama. And Rudra comes with drama.
Which is why I finally set aside my phone, settle into the blankets, and shut my eyes.