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The joker. He thinks that I'll actually believe that he's in Delhi. Huh. If he's in Delhi, I'm in Madrid.
Zarine rolled her eyes and closed her book of Byron: A Collection.
But what if he seriously was here? What if he did come to meet her? What if he was dying of heatstroke standing under a random tree because she thought he was joking?
She dialled Cristiano's number quickly, "Hey."
"Hey, you're on the way?" his deep voice answered.
"Uh you're really here right?" she asked.
"Yes," he sounded slightly pissed. "Do I have to swear on the Bible now?"
"If you talk like that I'll leave you standing under that tree," snapped back Zarine. She was actually feeling very guilty for thinking he had been kidding.
"What tree?"
"Uh sorry I was uh, sorry Cristiano, I'm on the way now," she lied, laughing nervously, already getting up and looking for her shoes.
"Sorry for snapping at you. It's just these two-I gotta go. Please be here as soon as possible," he pleaded.
Zarine grinned, "Sure, babe."
Cristiano spluttered, "W-what?"
She laughed finally getting even for all the times he had caught her off guard with the word.
She looked around her messy room. Wtf Cristiano can't come here! He'll have a heart attack. There was a a chair which was overflowing with clothes. Her bed was piled with novels, odd papers and essays and chocolate wrappers. The floor was relatively clear if one could ignore a huge stack of books which had tilted over.
Shit I need to go into ninja mode and clean everything. Zarine's method of 'cleaning everything' was actually 'bundling everything into her cupboard'. She bundled her clothes from the chair into the cupboard. She jumped on her bed and randomly lugged the books and papers and chocolate wrappers into the cupboard as well. There was no time for organisations and segregation. Cristiano gasping and fainting out of heatstroke, trying to stay within the shadow of a tree flashed in her mind.
