Looking at You

9

Crushed!

"I like me better" by Luv was perhaps my most played song on Spotify back then.

It had been over a month since Snehal's departure from Axel. I missed her without a doubt, yet I could never have admitted that, obviously.

Sara... The most ideal way to portray her as a young lady is decently dressed, polite, and respectful. She occupied the vacant spaces that I had after Snehal. What began as easy-going discussion bloomed into a fast friendship between us.

That day I became acquainted with something. Something that I didn't figure out earlier.

I heard the sound of the door being pushed open. And Rithvik strolled in. He was wearing a pair of denim pants, tennis shoes, and a plaid shirt over a dark-colored t-shirt.

Suddenly some of our colleagues cried, hooted, or murmured out Sara's name to stand out for him. I didn't understand the reason until I turned and something like a blush was rising to her cheeks, a sparkle in her eye.

Hell yeah, got that right. She'd been crushing on him... I didn't comprehend why she wanted him; clearly, lots of other girls also did. She just liked him little more than the others.

So that's the way you get when you have a crush! I wondered how it feels to have a crush on someone. Since that time, I didn't have the foggiest idea, how it feels to lay on the bed, at two AM with just the view of being able to hold his hand and be like you are mine.

... .

"How is he?" I asked Sara as I sat beside her and twisted the cap off bottled water.

At first, she looked at me, eyes narrowed in thought as if trying to remember who I was talking about. She clearly didn't want to talk about it, but then asked, "Who?"

A peculiar grin went to my lips, "Rithvik!"

"Great." Sara gestured and began typing something into the PC. — Maybe on the grounds that she wanted to work quickly; the turnaround of time is typically one day. She muttered something faintly. Also, when I requested that her recurrent it, she got over me.

"Sara, please," I mentioned once more.

She repeated herself this time more slowly, loudly. "I said I think someone has a crush on Sankalp."

"Our manager Sankalp?" I asked Sara took a gander at me with shock at my inquiry.

"Better believe it, Sankalp,"

"Sankalp." I giggled anxiously and stated, "I don't have the foggiest idea, what and why are we discussing him?"

"Really?" Sara asked winking. Pakhi feigned exacerbation and said to me, "I believe you're the one with the crush."

I shrugged and stated, "Better believe it I'm not making any decent attempt to deny it that he is ambitious professional, strong yet sincere, intelligent. And polite, but I am not crushing on him. I respect him."

"And I would prefer not to go for an Indian person who is my boss," I said emphatically.

"She would not say you like to go for him," Sara said. "She just said you really like him."

"No! I need somebody with shimmering blue eyes," I said, envisioning Sankalp's dark eyes, the way he squints with a slight frown whenever he is looking at the laptop screen for a long time. It occurs to me that I might sound unduly defensive, that I shouldn't protest quite so hard—especially given the fact that I was the one who started talking about crushes and all that dumb stuff.

That night I was genuinely befuddled; I didn't know my emotions. Is it merely respect, or is it a crush? I started to put all of my sentiments down on paper, transforming them into a form of poetry about him.

...................................................