Chapter 28 I’m Assuming Boys Who Have a Boner Can’t Run with Said Boner
I’m Assuming Boys Who Have a Boner Can’t Run with Said Boner
Goa, Monday
“I’m going after her,” I say, leaping to my feet and nearly falling back down because I’m so dazed. “You . . . you stay . . .”
Because of your situation.
I don’t say it, but Rudra understands, his face flushing with color. A sequin has come off the corner of my eye and gotten
stuck to his cheek, and the sight of it would be precious if things weren’t going to shit right now.
Rudra doesn’t notice, too preoccupied with his embarrassment, and instead stammers, “Y-yeah.”
There are tremors erupting all over my body as I dash after Priti, who is speed-walking down the slope to the beach.
I cut through the deck, taking the wooden slope to the fluffy sand below.
My sandals filled up with sand on the way here, so I bend down and yank them off, letting them swing from my fingers as I dash barefoot the rest of the way to Priti.
“Priti!” I call. “Priti, wait!”
“No, Krishna,” she snaps back at me, her long legs carrying her forward at a speed I can’t match. Given the cardio workout
she does every week, I know if she decides to take off into a sprint, I will not be able to catch up to her. But she does
come to a stop at the edge of the rolling waves then, fists clenched by her sides. I reach her, panting.
“Priti,” I say, gulping, because I dread explaining this turn of events to her, how I might’ve just had the hottest first
kiss with Rudra Desai. The thought makes my stomach flip, and images from a few minutes ago come back to me with startling
fervor.
No.
Now is not the time to be thinking about any of it. Especially not about how good a kisser Rudra is, or how soft his lips are, or how
his hands were all over me, or how he—
Shut up, Krishna.
“What you saw . . . that was . . .” I start, shaking my head. “You weren’t supposed to see that.”
Fuck.
Wrong thing to say.
Priti turns to look down at me, her eyes a furious black. “Seriously?”
“No, I mean—”
“What did you mean, then? That you didn’t expect me to come back to find you and Rudra all over each other?” She covers her face with
her hands, looking so frustrated and pained it stings. “Ohmygod. You and Rudra. Fuck. This can’t be happening. Fuuuck.”
I don’t know why, but tears spring to my eyes at her words. I’m still rattled by all that’s happened.
I’m so done. With everything. With this trip, with constantly having to strain to mend broken relationships, with living up
to others’ expectations of me all the time.
I need a break.
“Would it be so bad?” I whisper, a tear slipping down my cheek. I wipe at it hastily, folding my arms over my chest because
I suddenly feel cold. “If Rudra and I got together? Do you think I’m not good enough for him?”
Priti snaps her head up, her hands dropping. “This is not about you, Krishna! Everything is not about you all the time!”
Her words hurt. She could’ve slapped me and it would’ve hurt less.
“This is about compromise!” Her voice is sharp, harsher than before. “I was honest with you about how I felt, and you promised
me there was nothing going on between the two of you. You told me you liked Amrit!”
“Because you were finally giving me a chance! You were talking to me, and I didn’t want to lose that. I know I said I didn’t
feel anything for Rudra, but I did like him.” I swallow the lump in my throat, determined to not let any more tears slip out.
“I do like him. A lot. And I think he likes me. Why is that so bad?”
“Because—” Priti exclaims, her voice getting high-pitched and squeaky. “Rudra is not that kind of guy.”
Frustration morphs into anger so fast my head spins. I can’t believe, after all we’ve been through, after our conversations
during the trek and in the Airbnb, we’re back to square one.
Because I couldn’t keep a grip on my emotions. Because I ruined it. Because I hoped Priti would understand. Because, after everything, I hoped she would think I’m worthy of dating her best friend.
But I guess I never will be enough for her. Nothing I do will ever be enough.
“Are you saying I’m that kind of girl?” I choke out.
“He’s not the kind of person to say one thing and mean another!” Priti says. “I trusted you enough to come out to you. And
you lied to me! I was only ever honest with you, and you lied to me.”
That’s it.
“Like you haven’t been lying to me this whole time?” I spit.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“About applying to US colleges,” I say, finally laying out what I’ve been keeping to myself these past couple of days. I’ve
gone from preparing to use it as a trump card because I was indifferent to Priti after years of being let down to holding
it close because of our reconciliation, hoping she’d one day trust me enough to tell me about it herself, to this . . . “About
cutting me off from your life.”
Priti’s face turns white. “Rudra told you?” She looks so betrayed it sends a rush of glee through me. But the sensation is
immediately smothered by guilt when I think about how Rudra might feel if he learns that I threw him under the bus. How Priti
might feel to believe her best friend betrayed her.
I can’t do that to either of them.
“He didn’t tell me,” I say, my teeth clenched, once again left feeling like I’m always the one trying to fix things, to set things right.
“At least, not intentionally. But that doesn’t matter.
The truth is, you applied to American colleges, got into FIT, and didn’t even bother to tell me.
” My eyes are growing cloudy again, pooling with tears.
“You said you had been giving entrance exams. You said you might go to NIFT. And this whole time, you were applying to the US instead!”
Why do I cry when I’m angry?
Priti groans in frustration. “I did give entrances. I did apply to NIFT. But I decided on the US just last year, when Rudra started working on his applications.”
What a bucketload of bullshit.
“Don’t you see how that’s worse? You had a whole year to say something—anything. How do you lie so effortlessly, and then
blame me for doing the same?” I say, amazed more than hurt at this point. “You know how much planning moving abroad takes.
Were you ever going to tell me? Or were you just planning on avoiding me there?”
“I was going to tell you.”
“When? After moving? Through a post that’ll just pop up on my feed, with no call, no message from you? You’re so fake, Priti!
So two-faced!”
Priti’s eyes are pools of lava. “You know what? I take it back. You are that kind of girl. The kind who uses people only when they serve some purpose, who doesn’t hesitate a second before abandoning
one shiny thing for another. You led Amrit on all summer, only to fling yourself at Rudra the moment he started being nice
to you.”
The blood drains from my face at her words, her horrible words, and I think I’m about to faint or collapse or break down because I’m so tired and devastated and overwhelmed.
The optimist in me used to believe what people say about how bonds once broken, while forever changed, are reparable. But
with Priti’s words, I’ve come to realize that our relationship has been severed too many times to be redeemed.
As long as we have secrets, even if we do keep patching things up, we’ll end up hurting one another and undoing all that work eventually, only to come back less trusting. It’s a vicious, never-ending cycle.
“You don’t deserve him,” Priti says, her final, skewering remark only cementing my realization. Priti and I—we’re never meant
to be best friends again.
“Fuck you,” I say, a near whisper at first. Then louder, so loud I’m yelling, my voice carrying over the waves. “FUCK YOU!”
I turn on my heel, tears running hot and fast down my cheeks. Everything burns, everything hurts, and I just want to wake
up from this horrid dream to realize none of this happened, that I didn’t spend the wildest days of my summer . . . no, my
life, with her and Rudra.
But I don’t wake up. This is not a dream. This is real life, and what Priti said?
It’s true.
All of it.