JANNAT'S P.O.V
I DASHED INTO THE COFFEE SHOP. Pushing open the glass door of the coffee shop, with a white knuckled grip on my handbag, my eyes instantly searched for my boyfriend in the crowd.
This place was packed and I absolutely abhorred that. If Sinclair had given me a heads-up about how busy this place would have been today, I'd have reserved the whole place for just the two of us beforehand for some privacy. Just when I was about to crawl into the nearest empty booth and call Sinclair and shriek at him, I spotted Sinclair's familiar face and halted in my tracks — my face suddenly heating up with a strange, warm feeling. I watched the exact moment his wandering eyes settled on me and his eyes lit up in recognition — and the smile that blossomed on his face was like watching the sun rise after a long, cold, dark night.
"I thought I'd be swallowed alive by this crowd," I murmured truthfully as I slid into the booth, sitting right next to Sinclair. The fond smile he gave me made my heart race a little faster, but I didn't show it on my face. He took my bag gently from me and deposited it on the empty space next to him.
"Hi."
"Hey," I smiled. "What were you upto? Did I make you wait long?"
"What I was doing? Other than regretting his entire existence because his favorite coffee shop is packed and his favourite spot in the whole shop is taken?" Sinclair quipped, giving me a lazy smile. "I was waiting for you, of course. And no, don't worry, I got here only nine minutes and seven seconds before you did. And I think it was all worth the wait to see your face," He whispered, and pressed a kiss to the corner of my lips that had me giggling and shit. "You're the picture of perfection today, Walter. Must you always tease me so? Do I need to up my reading game and read more books on how to not be dumbfounded when you see the most beautiful woman?"
"Being in a relationship is making you cheesy," I added, laughing a little as I reached out to brush the hair falling into his eyes. "Shut up."
"I am sorry, but you kind of accepted me and my talkative habits when you agreed to be my girlfriend," He quipped, tilting his head at me. "Now, don't tell me you're running away already. That's not a quality I expected you to have."
I raised a brow at him, leaning on one of my shoulders as I propped my body up with an elbow on the tabletop. Sinclair grabbed a tissue and placed it under my elbow before it touched the surface of the table. "Now, don't tell me you're looking for any redeeming qualities in me, Sinclair. You won't find any."
"Good, I have always been attracted to bad girls."
"You're the most ridiculous person I have ever met," I admitted, laughing a little. "How did it take me this long to notice you?"
"I don't know, it took you months to notice me flirting outrageously with you, so I am not very surprised."
"You weren't flirting with me for months."
"I was, lowkey, even if I wouldn't like to admit it," He said, pursing his lips. "My hostile behavior toward you from the start of this year was, as you might have already discovered, far too aggravated and excessive. Much more than the previous years. I think somewhere along the way, I was just trying to cover up my attraction to you."
"No way, you lowkey liked me even when I tackled you in detention?"
He gave me a wry smile. "I like things a little rough, Walter."
"What a coincidence," I said, smirking. "I do too."
It took the blink of an eye for Sinclair’s face and neck and ears to turn as red as the color of my lipstick. "You and your crass mouth. We are in public, Walter. Behave yourself."
"You're so… paradoxical. You blush when I flirt in public, and then you say the most seductive things when we are alone," I mused, flagging the waiter with a wave of my hand. "I dig it, actually."
"Being a paradox is being interesting," He added with a shrug. "I concur."
The waiter arrived at our table after a whooping seven minutes and fifteen seconds, according to Sinclair, and we placed our usual orders. As soon as the waiter was gone, I turned to Sinclair.
"So, spill."
He looked up at me from the menu card, perplexed. "Spill… what? Water?"
My mouth twitched with a held-in laugh. "No, idiot. Spill the beans. I know you called me here to tell me something."
"Could I not just have called you here because I wanted to spend some time with you?"
"No, if spending time with me alone were the case, you'd have either called me to drop by your house, or you'd have come to my house itself. Either you wanted to try something new on the menu here, or you had something else you wanted to do with me. Seeing that there's nothing new on the menu that you ordered, then it must be the latter. So tell me, Sinclair, what have you got planned?" I cocked my head at him. "And more importantly," I said, sliding a hand down the collar of my coat. "Am I dressed properly for it?"
I observed as his eyes danced over my figure, taking in my outfit. I had slipped on a black silk shirt over a black cotswool warmer to keep the cold out, and had slipped into a grey melange solid bouclé a-line skirt that ended mid-thigh. To top off the look, I had gone with a matching grey melange solid bouclé cropped jacket with cute little lapels and faux pockets. To keep my legs warm, I had turned to my trusty black tights over warmers, and as far as my shoes were concerned — they were just a pair of baby pink platform heels. Since my outfit wasn't anything groundbreaking today and I had felt a little glamorous, I had opted for a pair of mismatched, statement earrings today — a small light pinkish pearl-drop earring on the left ear, and a chain drop earring in the other, with a little pinkish pearl at the end of it. To tie my outfit together, I had gone for a carnation-pink colored mini silk scarf wrapped around my neck and neatly tucked into my shirt, and a shell-pink handbag.
"Your outfit is for the New York fashion week, not for a dingy café," Sinclair exclaimed. "But goddamnit, I have never seen someone as put-together as you, I must say."
"Thank you, I take all of what you said as a compliment," I added, nodding. I tried to be as subtle as possible when my eyes perused Sinclair's outfit — but I had clearly failed, judging by the mirthful glint in his eye.
"Like what you see?" He inquired cheekily, doing a show of running a hand slowly down the lapel of his blazer. He was dressed in all brown hues — except his shirt, which was a crisp white. The top two buttons were undone and I'd be lying if I said that my eyes didn't stop there for an extra second. He had paired the shirt with mocha-coloured trousers, a black belt, and a chocolate-brown blazer. The blazer had flashy little rusty-gold buttons that instantly drew my attention. I hadn't missed the fact that Sinclair had swapped his usual silver plated watch for a black leather watch with gold finishes, and had slipped into a pair of black loafers. He had even taken the courtesy to put on gold jewelry today, as evident in the rings, the bracelet and the minimalist necklace that adorned his neck.
"Brown and gold, a very endearing but overlooked combination," I commented, my gaze on him approving and impressed. "I see someone put in a bit of effort while dressing up today."
"I knew I was going to be judged by Divagirl, so I tried to be as ready for battle as I could be."
That earned a laugh from me. "But seriously, do you only own clothes in beige, black and brown? Do I need to take you shopping?"
He scowled. "I have some other colors in my closet too — like a blue sweater, red coat, plenty of white shirts, navy blue suits, and so on. I think that's enough."
"Enough? That's like four colors other than black, beige and brown!" I frowned. "This upcoming birthday, I will give you an entire wardrobe as a gift — with additions that will have a little more colour, and you'll be thanking me then. A lot of colours suit the blush that creeps up your cheek when I say flirty stuff."
As if on cue, red rose up his neck and up his ears and cheeks. I laughed. "See what I am talking about?"
"Shut up, witch," He sneered at me and I shrugged, still laughing. "I can't believe I am willingly sitting with you when you are jeering at me so much. You've fed me a love potion, have you not? I know you're working magic on me."
"Duh," I added, rolling my eyes. "Obviously, I did magic on you. But unfortunately I do not have counter-magic techniques to reverse the effects, so I guess you're stuck with me, bookworm."
Our food came in and Sinclair almost dug in instantly. By the time I was halfway done with my cup of coffee, Sinclair had scarfed down his drink and all the food on his plate — with not even a single crumb left. Jesus.
"Okay, I think it's time I finally tell you," Sinclair said. Putting back the half-eaten cookie back on my plate, I turned my entire attention to him.
"Go on, then."
"As you know, I was an early action student and had gotten my college applications submitted by November, right?" I nodded. He proceeded. "And today, five minutes before I called you and asked you to meet up, I got a letter from Cornell in the mail, and I am pretty sure that it’ll tell me whether I got in or not.”
"Oh my, so you haven't opened the mail yet?" I exclaimed, exhaling sharply as I reached out to grab his hand. He shook his head. My eyes widened ever-so-slightly. "Sinclair, how are you feeling? On a scale of one-to-ten, exactly how anxious are you right now?"
"A twenty? I don't know," He said, squeezing my hand. "I was holding back my anxiety in, but now that I've finally told you that — I can't seem to hold it back in anymore. My heart feels like it's about to explode, Walter. I might spontaneously combust right here as we speak. I am—"
I downed the rest of my coffee in one huge gulp and stuffed the rest of my cookie in Sinclair's mouth to calm him down. It seemed to work. I signaled for the waiter to bring our bill, and then I turned to Sinclair, nodding at him intently.
"Don't worry, Sinclair. I know the best place for you to open the mail. And before that, to take the edge off a little — I know where to take you. I know just the place."
● ● ●
"I AM NEVER TALKING to you again," Sinclair all but snarled at me as I grinned, following him. "Don't ever look at me anymore."
"Aw, baby," I said, jogging after him and slipping my arm into his. He rolled his eyes dramatically but didn't slip away from my grasp, and I took that as my green signal. "Don't be so angry. You know my method was effective."
"I do not care!" He shrieked, shaking his head. "Bloody rock climbing! In all my seventeen years of living, I had never once thought that I'd have to do it! But here we are."
I grinned, my mind flashing back to scenes of Sinclair holding onto the rope, and onto the stepping stones for his dear life while I was yelling at him to get up already from the top. Ah, that scene was certainly going to be one of my fondest memories.
"Don't be so upset," I murmured in a teasing voice, shoving his shoulder with mine. "When you were holding onto the rock for your dear life at only half of the height, tell me, were you thinking of the selection results?"
That made him halt in his tracks. I halted too, my grin widening. He gave me a brief, side-eyed glance before answering. "No."
"See? That was effective," I said, and then held up his arm so that I could check the time on his watch. Five twenty-five. We decided on five thirty to be the exact time on which he will open the mail. "We have only five minutes to kill now."
His eyes almost jumped out of his sockets at my announcement. He snatched his own arm and held it up to look at his watch closely. "Only nine minutes and twenty one seconds till one of my biggest ambitions is made real or is broken forever. Oh my God. I think I am dying. Holy shit. Oh my—"
I put a finger to his lips, shushing him. "Don't panic." His eyes, swimming with fear and trepidation, stared right through me. "I know you've been wanting to go to Cornell since forever. Ever since you saw a picture of their library when you were little, you've been dying to attend classes there. I know it, I know it all. But you know what else I know? I know that you're a bloody genius. You're incredibly perceptive and have terrific memory and are highly creative, and you could have graduated from high school years ago if you hadn't insisted on getting the full high school experience. Cornell is nice and all, but honestly if they didn't accept you, they'd be making a big mistake."
He worried his bottom lip in his mouth. "I am not that sm—"
"Your mum told me about your real IQ, Sinclair. You must be an exceptional actor because you act like an idiot pretty well." A pause. "I have been meaning to ask you, but never got the chance. Why do you not want to disclose your actual intelligence to people?"
"Maybe I like being a mystery."
I narrowed my gaze on him. "Don't kid with me, kid. Why the hell is your IQ so high? You could win, like a Nobel Prize or something in the future."
He hid a smile. "Pretty sure you don't get the Nobel Prize for having a high IQ score."
"Whatever," I said, waving my hand. "Why do you do that?"
He shrugged. "People will form expectations from me if I tell them about it, and I am afraid I won't be able to fulfill them. So instead of disappointing them and myself in the long run, I just chose to omit the fact from the public gaze of me."
I shoved his shoulder. "You're a fucking idiot, then," I said, rolling my eyes. "If anything, knowing that you're actually even more intelligent than what you pretend to be has only made you sexier, Sinclair."
"You must keep this a secret," He commented slyly, sidling up to me. "I don't think you'll like it very much if girls were all over me."
I elbowed him in the ribs. He let out a small laugh, and then finally heaved a sigh. "Alright, you know what? Let's do this shit." As if on cue, a thunder rang in the sky nearby.
"Looks like even Zeus is excited to know about your selection," I mused, and that drew out a hearty laugh from Sinclair. Another ominous cloud boomed in the distance, and I had a feeling that it was going to rain soon. Sinclair smelled the air.
"What are you doing?" I asked incredulously. "Are you pretending to be a dog now to get out of this situation?"
"It smells green and brown," He commented instead, sniffing the air. "It is definitely going to rain. If we do not bolt from here, we might get drenched."
He was about to walk forward but I grabbed his arm, holding him back. I shook my head. "I don't care. I have a specified reason why I chose this exact park for you to open the mail in. One, it doesn't have many visitors in the afternoon which means you can scream or cry or yell if the emotions get overwhelming. Two, adjacent to the two exits of this park — there is an ice-cream parlor and a mini bookstore. If, by worst luck, you don't get accepted, I'd feed you ice-cream as comfort, and get you new books as consolation. If, as deserves, you get accepted, I'd feed you ice-cream as a treat, and get you new books as a token of celebration of this moment. Either way, I have got a plan for this. And some measly rain is not going to ruin it."
"I need to kiss you," He said after a moment, and then grabbed my face with both hands and pulled me in for a kiss that stole my breath away. "Goddamnit. Were you always this good at comforting people?"
"I am definitely learning new stuff when it comes to you," I agreed.
He let out a long breath, fishing out the phone from his pocket. "Okay," He said, shaking his leg nervously. I lifted my foot and kicked him in the shin. He gave me a playful glare but turned the phone on anyway, the screen blinking to life. With a shaky finger, he held up the phone, swiped and clicked on the mail icon. "Here goes nothing."
He clicked the mail. We both read it together. And then, Sinclair almost toppled back with a screech and I had to catch him.
"Easy, easy," I said, grunting as I tried to push him back upright. "You're not as light as you look."
"I got accepted?" He wondered out loud, his eyes glossy. He finally stood up straight, and then looked at me, in disbelief and shock, and I could see the tears pooling there. "I got accepted, Jannat."
"I know, I can read," I said, reaching out to stroke his cheek. "I am so proud of you, Christian."
At my touch, he seemed to snap out of whatever bubble of disbelief he was trapped in and he looked at me like he was the happiest boy in the whole world right now. With a squeal, he pulled me in a hug that lifted me off my feet and crushed all of my bones. I laughed, holding onto him for dear life.
"If you break your back," I yelled as he whirled us around in a semicircle. "I won't forgive you! Put me back!"
"You're heavier than I expected," He commented, laughing a little, heaving a little. "But nothing I can't handle. So, shut up."
"What happened to my mister fragile bones?" I questioned and he dipped me back, drawing out a squeal from me. He laughed heartily, finally putting me down.
"I drank a lot of milk," He replied simply.
"You need to go to a masseuse after that," I murmured, still shaking off the remnants of my laughter. "Let's go there tomorrow. I'll book an appointment."
"That sounds—" He started but then suddenly stopped, his brows furrowing. I looked at him, alarmed, and shifted the handbag from my right hand to my left so that I could pat his shoulder.
"Hey, are you feeling sick? Should I call my driver?"
He grabbed my wrist, pulling me back. "Wait," He said, and then looked up at me, his gaze worried. A drop of rain fell on my arm. "You got into the Fashion Institute of Technology."
"Yes, and you already know that."
"I do," He said. "But you know what this means? We will be in two different parts of New York. It means we won't be able to hang out together as often anymore."
"Come on," I murmured, clicking my tongue. "It's not that big of a deal. I will still drive to you whenever I get time—"
"Walter," He said, holding me by my shoulders now. "Hear me out. If you want to break up when it's time for college, I'll understand. In college, there will be more boys, okay? More fashionable, more charming, more—"
"Do you want to get slapped?"
He pursed his lips. "I am just saying—"
"Don't say anything. In fact, don't even think anything," I added, scowling at him. "Just shut up! I cannot believe that you dared to even say that!"
He put his hands up now, in surrender and wariness. "Look, Jannat, it is natural to want to have the opportunity to mingle with more people in college life. There will be considerable distance between us because of our colleges as well, and if you come to like some other guy and want to pursue him, I wouldn't want to stand in the wa—"
"For fuck's sake, Christian, is it that hard to see that I've got eyes for no one else but you?" I yelled. The occasional drops of rain had turned into a soft, tampering drizzle. But none of us moved. "It is you. It has always been you. It just took me too long to realize! But now that we have both accepted it, you want to push me away? For what? Because you're insecure? Well, fuck that. Be insecure and have low self-esteem, we can talk about that whenever you want, or we can pay a visit to a psychologist, but I'm not breaking up with you. Not now. Not then. You're stuck with me, and that's final. I have a car and a driver that I can send to you whenever you want to come visit, or else I'll just come and visit. In the most dire and bizarre situations, if needed, I'll hail even a subway and a taxi for you. I do not care."
"But, hear me out, there might be better boys in college and I would understand if you feel attracted to them, so I think breaking up before that will be beneficial to yo—"
"Is this how you function? By running away from difficult situations?" The rain was growing heavier now, and I was almost fully drenched, and so was Sinclair. "Well, remember how you got me off my stubborn, high horse and made me accept my feelings? You know why you did that? It's because we make each other better, we challenge each other. So this is it, my challenge to you. You're gonna stop being a wuss, and we are not breaking up, because I like you, idiot. I only have eyes for you. I like you so much that everyone else is just… unattractive to me. I look at them and instantly get appalled by the fact that they're not you." Another thunder boomed in the distance. "So, what's the problem? Because it's definitely not me. So it has to be you. What? You think you'll forget my face when you don't see me daily or something?" I shook my head. "For someone so incredibly smart, you're incredibly stupid."
He held up the phone in his hand, and it was so wet that I had a feeling that rice won't do the trick this time. His home screen blinked to life, and he all but shoved the screen in my face. "You think I can ever forget your face? I see you everywhere! And I have you as my bloody wallpaper!"
I took the phone from him, and smiled at the fact that the photo I had taken so many months ago, at the night of our dinner at Topaz, and he had actually put it as his wallpaper. I handed him his phone back, and now that some of the fire was gone from my veins, I could feel the damp of the clothes settling in my bones. "So, what is it, then? Do you think that you won't be able to be faithful to me when you go to college? Scared that you will give into the wiles of girls smarter and more nerdy than me? I mean, obviously they can't be prettier or more fashionable, so the only perimeter on which I can sense any level of comparison is obviously my academic competence. While I am aware that I might not be as smart as you, or the peers you'll be attending your classes with in college, I would like to draw your attention to the fact that I am in the top five of my class and—"
"Never ever say that you're not as smart as me again, or I swear I will glue your flip-flops to your feet again," Sinclair interjected, shaking his head like a wet dog. A few raindrops splattered at me, and I squeezed my eyes shut, shoving him playfully. He finally grabbed my arms and pulled me closer to him, holding him. "You're incredibly smart, Walter. Maybe not in the same things as me, but you're smart in so many other things. Might I remind you that you will be the one helping handle the multinational billion-dollar company of your Dad in the future? You're as business savvy as they come. Hell, you have a whole constructed idea about your future while the only thing I know is that I'll be attending Cornell next year. And I am supposed to be the organized one out of the two of us. Go figure."
"I would be a good businesswoman, wouldn't I be?" I smiled. "I will be working closely with my father from this summer vacation, and needless to say, I am quite excited. I think the knowledge I'll acquire in fashion business management will come handy too. Ugh, I am so excited."
"And I rained on your parade," Sinclair exclaimed, disappointed, and in response, I punched him in the shoulder. He groaned. The rain was not as heavy as I had feared, but we were drenched head-to-toe completely anyway, and all we needed to do now was to kiss, or dance in the rain, and we would be like a cliché scene coming to life from a romantic Bollywood movie.
"Now, say sorry, and let's forget this disagreement ever happened."
"I am sorry," He apologized, sounding sincere and guilty. "I will never say such stupid things again."
"Never might be a stretch, because speaking from experience, you say stupid things quite often," I declared, smiling. "But don't worry, I'll be there to slap some sense back into you. You have got me."
"I have got you," He repeated, looking at me like I was a wonder that had come true, straight from the pages of his favorite novel. "And you have got me."
"Good," I hummed, finally tension-free. The clouds over our head had closed upon, and it was pitch-dark already, at barely six in the evening. I grabbed Sinclair's hand, and dragged him across the park and towards the iron-made exit gate. "Now, we should really get into the car. My driver is waiting. I do not want you to catch a cold after breaking the news of your acceptance to Cornell. Pretty sure our parents and friends would love to celebrate this occasion. "
"But," He whined. "What about the ice-cream? You promised me ice-cream!"
"Don't be a kid," I said, rolling my eyes as we got out of the park and instantly found my car. I climbed in and beckoned for Sinclair to follow too, who was currently busy making eyes at the ice-cream shop. I tugged him inside.
"Tell you what, you call your mum and Lucas first and give them the news while we drive to my house. I'll call the chef now and tell him to prepare an assortment of ice-creams to choose from when we freshen up and get out into the dining hall. How's that sound?"
"That literally sounds perfect," He said, getting his phone out of his pocket and waving it around like a magic wand to get rid of the water. We were getting water all over the car seats, and I made a mental note to remind the driver to take the car to a good cleaning, the first thing tomorrow morning. Sinclair paused for a second to look at me, and then leaned down to press a kiss to my temple. "You're my dream that came true," He whispered. Outside, the downpour got heavier.