Serious in Love ✔

22- "Get the fuck out of my life."

Argh!

Nearly towards the end of our dinner, Irfan excused himself for a washroom break. We both knew he wouldn't be back for atleast twenty minutes since he had been rubbing his poor stomach for the past hour. It was just the two of us now. Marvelous!

“Wanna order something for dessert? I'm going to order Tiramisu.” Natasha asked while checking out the menu (this time on her own seat).

“I want what you are having,” I mumbled before filling another bite of pasta into my mouth.

“Yeah, just how you want my pussy.”

“Awk!” I choked on my food followed by a pathetic coughing fit. The fork I was holding fell on the plate with a clank and instead, I got hold of a glass of water. I glared at her. “Atleast warn me before you make a R rated joke like that.”

She let out a sarcastic laugh. “I so wished I was joking, Baweja, but we both know what you want.”

“And that is Tiramisu dessert.”

She looked at me like I was pathetic. “Don't you think it's time you stop playing the denial game. It's getting lame as fuck.”

“I have no idea what you're talking about...” I answered, looking elsewhere. I don't care. I'll play as long as I'm in Boston.

“Oh, really?” she arched a brow and leaned towards me. “Then who had almost kissed me at the washroom underground?”

I looked everywhere else but her. “How would I know? You were there, not me.”

“Then who was secretly checking me out in my grey saree?”

She knew! “Many.”

Natasha nodded in understanding, her eyes narrowing, “Alright then. Let me narrow it down for you— Who was it who wanted to make his move in all those times I made a move on you? Tell me, who?” She shot me that sharp look. The look that demanded an obvious answer.

I wasn't ready for this— this ridiculous confrontation. All I wanted was a peaceful night out and a peaceful sleep. You know you can't run away forever. Damn, where was Irfan when you needed him?

I diverted my attention into pouring some more drink to my glass. When I didn't answer for a while, she groaned, “I give uuup!  Waiter,” she called him and ordered two Tiramisus.

Our desserts arrived, five minutes later and we devoured them in silence. Not my mind though. It was far from silent. It answered to whatever my eyes observed, and right now, it was observing Natasha as she took a sip of her drink. Her wet lips lingered against the transparent edges of the glass. My gaze dropped to the exposed part of the neck, her light pink sweater, covering her bosom that rested on the table. Somewhere— in between the distant voices of the people in the restaurant, in the midst of the jazz music playing in the background, she met my gaze with her own. She placed her glass near mine in such a way that our arms touched from side to side. The slight grazing of our hands caused light friction to my skin. The air felt denser and my resolve thinner. I shifted my palm backwards to meet hers and slowly intertwine my fingers between her soft ones.

“I often found myself wishing...” I started in a low voice, my thumb running circles on her hand. “If only I had met Ahana later, or you earlier, things wouldn't have been so difficult then.”

“Then what? What would you have done if you had met me earlier?” Her voice was equally silent.

My grip on her palm tightened and I finally willed myself to raise my head to her. I closed the distance between us and let my mouth brush against side of her face. When it reached the level of her ear, I whispered with a breath, “I would have fulfilled every- sensuous- thing that's running in your mind right now.”