2 The Failed Fuckboi
The Failed Fuckboi
A warm puff of wind went past me, tousling my shoulder-length hair.
Instead of flying smoothly over my face like Deepika Padukone’s introduction shot in Om Shanti Om , mine got stuck to my lip gloss.
I turned around and slapped the stray strands away, blowing air from my mouth for assistance.
I fished out my phone from the tiny black sling bag I was carrying. A text awaited me.
Ugh. My date’s lack of punctuality was costing me my outfit.
I already regretted wearing the peach bodycon dress, and I hadn’t even had a bite to eat yet.
The body-hugging outfit that had seemed flattering a few hours ago was now a recipe for sweat patches.
Of course, I could’ve avoided waiting out here in the heat, but the thought of entering Saurav’s house by myself was somehow less appealing than enduring this humid April weather.
I wasn’t ready to face the pack of wolves yet.
I was about to dodge the second call from Vrinda in fifteen minutes when a cab pulled up in front of me and Aakash stumbled out of the backseat.
‘We’re outside,’ I spoke into the phone, disconnecting it immediately to greet my date.
‘Hey, sorry I’m late,’ he said, bending down to hug me.
Fuckbois, in my experience, were always huggers.
I had never met one who had tried to shake my hand or take a seat without any physical contact.
This one, too, squeezed me tight, letting me believe for a microsecond that we’d spent countless days and nights deepening our bond instead of the five-sentence exchange we’d had on Tinder earlier this evening.
‘Shall we?’ I asked, linking my arm through his.
He smiled at me, his square mouth revealing a set of pearly white teeth.
As we walked over to the house, I took a second to mentally congratulate myself.
I’d done well. Not only was he devilishly handsome, but he was also super fit.
I could feel the skin of my arm tingling where it curled around his huge bicep.
His printed shirt had a slimming fit, eliminating the possibility of any hidden fat.
And as if that wasn’t enough, he was also intimidatingly tall.
If I hadn’t worn my nude heels, there’s a solid possibility I could’ve been mistaken for his teenage sister.
‘So whose party is this?’ he asked, his tone casual.
‘Saurav’s. He’s my best friend’s boyfriend,’ I said.
He nodded and waited for me to ring the doorbell as we reached the porch.
Now that we were almost inside, I could hear the music loud and clear – an EDM track that would never find its way onto my playlist. Saurav’s parties always had a distinct musical trajectory – the first hour was dedicated to jazz as people trickled in and had their first glass of wine, the second was flooded with EDM, the third and fourth were a mix of pop and hip hop before everyone finally gave in to the genre they enjoyed the most: Punjabi pop.
‘I love this song,’ he said as ‘Rasputin’ remixed by Majestic and Boney M began blasting from the speakers.
I sighed internally.
We were greeted by Vrinda, who squealed and planted a big kiss on my cheek before I had the chance to say hello.
‘You made it!’ she said to us both.
‘Of course! You look like a vision, V,’ I exclaimed, admiring the way her sequined cocktail dress hugged her curves.
An elegant diamond necklace sat around her neck, making me conscious of my own lack of jewellery.
I wondered if I should have borrowed some bling from my mom for tonight but quickly dismissed the thought.
The desire to fit in was not worth texting her every hour with photographic proof of her treasured jewels’ whereabouts.
V thanked me and led us both inside, unaware of the unease already churning in my belly. ‘He’s gorg, by the way,’ she whispered in my ear.
‘Can’t disagree,’ I said, squeezing her hand.
A part of the gang was crowded around the luxurious leather couches in the living room, talking over each other. Saurav and a few others were missing, presumably smoking out on the airy balcony.
‘Annie, hey,’ said Srishti, a girl I recognised from last year’s soiree. She glided from across the centre table to hug me.
I hated when people I barely knew called me that. I’m Ananya , I wanted to tell her. At least to you. But I swallowed the annoyance and returned her smile, letting her hold my hand in the way that drunk people do.
‘And who might this be?’ she asked, eyeing the man I’d entered the party with.
We had a round of introductions for Aakash’s sake, and I began to relax as the focus shifted to my date. A part of me felt guilty for parading him around like a trophy, but he looked like he was enjoying being the centre of attention. Besides, I fully planned on making it worth his while later.
The first hour was largely uneventful. I’d devised a strategy to get me through this night.
Do not engage, I told myself every time someone said something that would rile me up, like ‘Sweetie, you should totally join us for our annual trip to Maldives this year’ or ‘You must be keeping so busy. My manicurist does home visits, you know’.
I’d made friends with the uniformed servers, who helped me stuff my face with fancy finger food to avoid conversation.
So far, it was working. I was fed and buzzed enough to not care that I didn’t like 95 per cent of the people at this party.
But then, I had the misfortune of interacting with a guy named Jay, whom Saurav introduced as his friend from ‘Uni’, even though I knew they’d both gone to Ram Lal Anand College. He was the Indian equivalent of a frat boy – loud, obnoxious and operating on zero-point-five brain cells.
‘How’s it hanging?’ he said, nodding at me.
‘Getting drunk,’ I said and raised my glass.
He took that as an invitation to join me on the single-seater sofa, wiggling his ass to make space where there wasn’t any, much like the aunties in the Delhi Metro.
‘Wanna play a game?’ he shouted in order to be heard over the music.
Anything to get you off my lap.
‘Um, what’s the game?’ I asked.
‘See that glass on the table?’ he asked, referring to the square glass table sandwiched between the couches.
‘Uh huh.’
‘We’ll try to dunk this bottle cap in it. Whoever does it first wins,’ he said.
‘All right, why not?’ I took the bottle cap from him and got up so fast that his right butt cheek crashed onto the sofa.
‘From there,’ he said, pointing to an imaginary line next to where he was seated. ‘And no leaning.’
I closed one eye, aimed for the mouth of the glass and tossed the flimsy cap in the general direction. Of course, being the terrible shot I am, it didn’t even land on the table. It sat lousily on the rug under the counter, mocking me.
Jay laughed, getting up to squeeze my shoulders from behind. I resisted the urge to shake off his hands and pull a face.
‘Don’t worry. Maybe on the next try,’ he said in a way that suggested there wouldn’t be another attempt.
And sure enough, he dunked the damn thing in one go, turning around and whooping endlessly, as if he was in a stadium full of fans. When I didn’t join in the celebrations, he walked over to me and handed me the bottle cap.
‘As my prize, I’d like to take you on a date, pretty lady,’ he said, smiling widely, presumably in a bid to charm me.
‘Um, I’m not really interested. Thanks, though,’ I said in what I hoped was a polite tone.
I could tell he hadn’t expected me to turn him down. I didn’t particularly enjoy being this blunt, but he should’ve read the room. If his ego hadn’t impaired his 6/6 vision, he’d have seen I was far from showing any interest in him.
‘Okay … how about you give me your number,’ he began slowly, ‘and we can talk later?’
‘I … er …’ I mumbled, trying to think of an excuse, and when I couldn’t find one, I decided to use the liquid courage. ‘No, thanks.’
‘You know what? I’ll give you my digits, and you can hit me up if you change your mind,’ he said as he winked at me, unmoved by the rejection.
I was about to tell him I wasn’t going to let him do that either when Aakash appeared at my side.
‘Hey babe, want a drink?’ he asked, touching the small of my back.
Jay turned red as realisation hit him. He held up his hands immediately. ‘I’m so sorry, bro. Didn’t know she was your girl,’ he said, beginning to retreat.
That pissed me off more than anything that had previously come out of his mouth. Do not engage , I reminded myself. But it was too late.
‘Oh, so you’d stop hitting on me if I’m with someone, but not because I’m simply not interested?’
I had to practically shout the last bit because he had sprinted for the balcony.
My date shifted his weight awkwardly, clearly not thrilled to have rescued me. My little outburst attracted the attention of a few of the others in the living room, and Vrinda and her boyfriend rushed to my side.
‘What’s wrong?’ she asked, touching my arm.
‘Nothing, don’t worry,’ I said, deciding this wasn’t important enough for her to fret over.
I did, however, throw a dirty look in Saurav’s direction, who should’ve known better than to let one of his weird friends hit on me.
He had tried to set me up twice before, once with and once without my consent, and had failed both times on account of the total lack of compatibility between both parties.
It’s not like he didn’t know me. I had been third-wheeling him and V for years now, after all.
But when it came to finding me guys, he always went for who he liked, not who he thought I would like.
I think he just wanted to make sure he had a partner in crime for our future double dates.
‘Aakash, what happened?’ Vrinda asked, directing her attention to my date, who was looking away and taking imaginary sips from his empty whisky glass.
When he didn’t respond, she tried again. ‘Aakash?’
I elbowed him in the ribs, and his head shot back to the four of us. ‘Oh right, me.’