The door creaks open as she steps into the room. Her hair is now in a tight, high ponytail, and she looks fresh as a daisy. I get up, take the plates from her hand, and set them on the table. She is being too fidgety for my liking, but I am not commenting on that, considering I am the one who made things awkward.
I think it’s just the situation I should blame, because any sane straight man would be attracted to her. She’s the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. The way she pulled me in instantly when I first saw her will always be a mystery to me. From the first moment, she has had all my focus. I am not in love with her, but she is beautiful and so bold. A beauty with a brain. It was intimidating at first,but when I saw her vulnerable, I just wanted to comfort her in a way no one has ever comforted her. I wanted to open up to her. I think I have. I feel comfortable with her. I guess that’s her superpower: she makes people feel warm, secure enough to talk. I don’t usually talk about my feelings, but with her, I want to. And it’s not one way; I also want to know what’s going on in her head and heart. I want her to share her deepest thoughts with me.
She pulls out her notebook from her bag, which is kept on the table. She pushes the plate toward me. “This is an Indian snack. It’s calledmathriin Hindi, but you can call it…” She frowns. “Um, maybe crackers. I don’t know. It sounds weird.” She shrugs but doesn’t look at me.
I pick it up, carefully scrutinizing it. I don’t handle spice well, and one fact I know is that Indian food is spicy as hell.
“It’s tolerable,” she says. I look at her. She’s turning pages in her notebook. Every time she moves, her hair sways slightly, drawing my attention to the way it frames her face. There’s still a nervous energy emanating from her. I can’t help but notice how beautiful she is.
“Shut up,” she says out of nowhere. I raise my eyebrows, a small smile making its way onto my face.
“I didn’t say anything, Firecracker.” I state the obvious, grinning at her.
She finally looks at me, expressionless, but her cheeks are pink. “Still, shut up,” she announces.
“Okay, so we have already decided that we will be making a business plan for a cafe-cum-bookstore,” she says. Okay so, she’s in her business mode, obviously.
“As we discussed earlier.” She pushes a notebook toward me, pointing at the list of tasks we have to do, and I mentally beat myself up. Shit, I completely forgot about it, and she will be disappointed in me. I hate that look. “We’re going to need to do some research, figure out thefeasibility, costs, profits, potential locations, target customer base…a lot of things. I have done my side of the work. Did you find out about the target customer base?” she asks.
I sigh and give her an apologetic smile. She rolls her eyes. “Of course,” she mumbles.
“In my defense, I was too busy handling the weight of the university’s expectations and being a good basketball player-slash-captain.” I shrug, smirking at her as she huffs in annoyance. “But I can make it up to you.” I wink playfully at her.
Her cheeks flush an even deeper shade of pink. Her eyes widen momentarily before she looks away, trying to compose herself. Our eyes meet for the first time today, and it almost knocks the wind out of my chest. The sunlight hits her brown eyes, enhancing their natural tones, making them appear deeper, warmer, and more vibrant. It always quickens my heartbeat.
“Don’t try to charm your way out of this,” she says, trying to sound unimpressed, but her voice is a little shaky.
“You think I am charming?” I snigger.
She blushes, looks down at her hands, and huffs. “Stop flirting with me!” she exclaims.
I inhale sharply, leaning in slightly. “I don’t think I can stop, Anya,” I say gently, my heart racing as our eyes meet. Our faces are inches apart. I can feel her breath on my lips. I take in her red cheeks. The tip of her nose is pink now, and her eyes are wide. I can feel the heat from her body.
“I genuinely don’t know why my brain goes blank when I see you. I think I’m going a little crazy,” she says, her eyes dazed.
My heart hammers against my ribcage. She’s definitely not good for my heart’s health. Her words make my head spin. My hands itch to touch her, to pull her closer, to feel her skin against mine. But I hold myself back, waiting for her response. I lean in more, expecting her to move away, but she doesn’t.
“Anya…” I say gently, my voice low and steady.
“Daniel,” she rasps out as her eyes flutter closed. The space between us feels electric. I close the distance to kiss her.
I’m a Barbie girl, in the Barbie world
Life in plastic, it’s fantastic.
What the fuck. Her eyes snap open, and she jumps back, her right hand holding her chest. Her breath quickens, and I reach out to calm her down, but she stands up before I can even touch her, as if my touch will burn her. She checks her phone. When the hell did she choose this ringtone? If we were not having this heated moment, it would be a perfect opportunity to tease her.
“It was Soph-” she pants as if she heard my inner thought. “It was a dare to set this ringtone for a day.” She looks away, avoiding my eyes. She fumbles with her phone, and the room suddenly feels cold and empty.
I sit there, heart racing, still trying to process what just happened. The kiss that didn’t happen. The moment we almost had.
“I have to take this,” Anya says, her voice shaky.
I nod numbly, unable to find the words to express my emotions. She glances at me one more time, her eyes reflecting a mix of emotions I can’t decipher. I sigh as I run a hand through my hair. I am screwed. I am down bad for her.
I genuinely don’t know why my brain goes blank when I see you. I think I’m going a little crazy.
I repeat those words in my head. I can’t shake the feeling that we just had something there, something real. Those words came from within her. There was no uncertainty in her eyes. It may have been a slip of the tongue, but it felt real, the way she looked at me, her dilated pupils, her quick breaths; it was all real.
