Shehnaaz
THE REST of the day is uneventful, thank goodness. We have a shorter lunch break because of the shortened schedule, and Sidharth never leaves my side. He's very possessive, slinging his arm over my shoulders as he sits next to me in the dining hall and talks to his friends. Claiming me in front of everyone at school.
There are stares and whispers and gossiping behind hands, but a lot of it has to do with Fig's arrest and not because of Sidharth's obvious attention-and affection towards me.
This is a big deal, having a teacher arrested in front of our class, during school hours. Hauled off in handcuffs and paraded around the entire school.
Because that's what those detectives did. They walked Fig down the main hall, hoping to catch the eye of everyone they could. Totally unexpected.
But then again, not surprising. When the final bell rings, I walk out of my sixth period final to find Sidharth waiting for me, leaning against a row of shiny blue lockers. He pushes away from them to approach me, and I frown.
"What are you doing here?"
"Walking you to your dorm," he says, taking my hand and falling into step beside me. I marvel at this new Sidharth. We have sex and this is what happens? He becomes super possessive and wants to spend all of his free time with me?
It's so...weird. And thrilling.
Something to get used to, that's for sure. I'm not used to this sort of attention, and while I like it, there's also a small part of me that wants to run and hide.
People seeing me with Sidharth will eventually realize that something happened between us. Something sexual. My role model days are over.
I fell, just like the rest of them.
And I sort of don't mind. I get it now. I understand why it happens, and how all other things cease to matter when the boy of your dreams, the boy you're falling for, smiles at you and makes you feel like nothing else matters to him.
Just you.
Once we're outside, I pull my hand from his and slip my gloves on. He tries to grab my hand again, but I won't let him.
"What the hell, Birdy?"
The irritation in his voice is obvious, but I ignore it. "You should put gloves on first."
"Oh." His annoyance clears and he pulls a pair of black gloves from his coat pocket, putting them on and then taking my hand. "Is this your way of taking care of me?"
"I have to try sometime, since all you want to do now is take care of me." I should sound more grateful. He needs to understand this will take some getting used to for me.
He shrugs, seemingly uncomfortable. "I feel protective." "Why? Because of what happened over the weekend? I can still handle
myself, you know," I remind him.
"I never thought you couldn't," he agrees. "But...I can't help the way I feel."
"And how do you feel?"
"Like you're mine and I want everyone to know it," he answers seriously.
I absorb his words. The fierce way he said them. I believe he cares about me. That he feels possessive of me. But we've gone from nothing to everything in a rapid amount of time and I still need to process this.
When we arrive at the dorm hall, I turn to face him, grabbing hold of the front of his jacket and giving him a little shake. "I love how protective you are, but you have to be patient with me."
Sidharth frowns. "What do you mean?"
"I'm not used to it. A few weeks ago, you were chasing after me. Threatening me and always shooting me dirty looks. You've even admitted you hated me."
His exasperation is evident. "I didn't shoot you dirty looks."
I love that's the point he got stuck on. "You so did. Every morning when you
waited for me to show up before school."
"I was trying to get your attention."
"As in, staring at me like you wanted me to die?" I laugh.
He doesn't.
"I guess I approached it-you-wrong," he admits.
"You still got me in the end though." My smile is small.
He kisses it away.
"I could come inside and hang out with you in the common room," he suggests, pressing his forehead to mine.
"I would love that, but I have a paper to finish." My history essay is due tomorrow, plus we have an actual final. "Plus, I need to study."
"You do not," he teases, delivering another kiss to my lips.
"I do. The paper is only two-thirds finished and I barely remember what we
learned in class this semester," I explain. "I need to read over my notes."
"I have that final tomorrow afternoon," he says. "Maybe I should study with you."
"We won't get any studying done together and you know it." I smile up at him, not wanting to hurt his feelings. "Once I get through tomorrow, the rest of the week is easy."
"And then we'll hang out." He says this firmly, as if I can't argue. I won't. I want to spend time with him. As much as I can before winter break
starts.
"Yes. We'll hang out." He kisses me again before I can say anything else.
"I want to plan something for your birthday. Something special. Just for the two of us," he says.
I don't know how my father will feel about that, but I don't mention that. "Okay."
"Good luck with studying. And your paper." Yet another kiss, this one long and filled with tongue. "Text me later."
"Bye," I whisper.
I watch him walk away before I finally turn and head into my dorm, waving at the RAS sitting behind the desk as I walk past. I'm in my room in minutes, changing out of my uniform and pulling on sweats.
I crack open my laptop and settle in, opening the paper I've been working on for history. This is the absolute last thing I want to do, but I remind myself once tomorrow is over, the rest of the week is fairly simple. I can handle this.
A paper. Some studying. A final. Then it's easy-peasy until we're out of school for break.
I can't wait. I want to spend time with Sidharth before we have to leave. And then I want to spend more time with him when we're both home.
Winter break can be so depressing for me sometimes, even though it's my birthday and Christmas and all of those good times, where you're supposed to be making memories and having a great time.
I'm usually just with my parents. We don't have much extended family, and the last few years, Dad never wanted to go on vacation over the holidays, claiming he had too much work to catch up on.
Now I'm actually excited for a break. For all the possibilities that come with it.
Like spending ample time with Sidharth. I'm going to have to tell Dad about him sometime. Mom probably won't care so much, but Dad will. He has all of these expectations on me that I can no longer meet.
I can't meet them. Not anymore.
Really don't want to anymore either.
I'm staring at my laptop screen, trying to get up the energy to finish writing this history paper when my phone rings.
It's Dad.
I answer immediately, greeting him with, "Hi. I was just thinking about you."
"Really? Looks like you weren't thinking much about me over the weekend, am I right?" His tone is harsh, full of barely-restrained anger. I frown, slamming my laptop shut. "What do you mean?"
"You think I don't know?"
My heart lodges in my throat, making it hard for me to breathe. "Don't know what?"
"Who you were with this weekend? What were you two doing? I'm disappointed in you, Shehnaaz. You broke your promise."
Oh God. How does he know? How did he find out? Who told him?
"Dad, wait-"
"I don't want to hear your excuses or your lies. Because that's what you did, Shehnaaz. You lied to me. You told me you were going to Vermont with Maggie when you didn't. You went with that insufferable boy and did inappropriate things. You shared a bed with him. I know you did. I saw the proof."
My brain is scrambling, trying to keep up with what he's saying. "How do you know?"
"I'm glad you're not trying to deny it. You're doing the right thing." He hesitates only for a moment. Long enough for me to realize tears are running down my face. "I have access to your iCloud. I logged in and saw the
inappropriate photos."
I briefly close my eyes, my heart sinking fast. I remember the photos I took of Sidharth that Saturday night. With his shirt off and my lip-gloss imprint on his chest and merged on his face. Much later that night, after we'd had sex twice and we were about to fall asleep, I took pictures of the two of us lying in bed, my head resting on his naked shoulder, our gazes sleepy, our smiles full of satisfaction. There are photos of Sidharth's back with my nail scatch, also hickey's on his neck, and some intimate pictures of us on bed and the places we went and sidharth kissing me or biting me. I wanted to document the moment. The night I gave my virginity to Sidharth.
And my father saw all of it. Even the photos I took Saturday afternoon of us downtown. The decorations. Sidharth sitting across from me at lunch.
Does photos are way to private for parents see, None of those photos were meant for anyone else's eyes but mine And Sidharth's.
"Do you have anything to say for yourself?" Dad asks when I remain quiet.
"What am I supposed to say? I can't defend myself. You've seen all the evidence." I swallow hard. "I didn't know you had access to my iCloud."
"That's clear," he retorts. "From everything I saw on your most recent camera roll, I almost regret looking." That's false. I'm sure he doesn't regret it, since he finally caught me in a lie. Like he's been hoping to catch me in one all of these years. Why else would he need access to my iCloud account?
Because he doesn't trust me. He's never fully trusted me after I did something so incredibly stupid when I was twelve.
Well, I'm not twelve anymore. I'd like to think I'm smarter than I was. I'm Definitely stronger.
I think.
"You're coming home now," he demands. "Tonight."
"Dad! I can't. I have finals to complete. I'm writing a paper right now!" "I'll call the school and you can do everything online. I'll tell them it's a family emergency," he says. "Don't argue with me, Shehnaaz. You're coming home early."
"Dad, please. Listen to me. I have to finish this paper and study for the final. It's all happening tomorrow. It's my first class since we're on a finals' schedule this week. How about I come home after that? The rest of my classes, I'm pretty much done."
He's quiet for a moment, and I rest my head on my desk, anxiously waiting for his answer. It's not a lie. I do need to complete everything I listed.
But I also need a chance to explain to Sidharth what's happening. He deserves to know.
To know my father most likely hates him.
"I'll send a car to pick you up at noon. You better be on time with that driver, Shehnaaz. I'll make sure he reports to me," my father says, his voice firm.
"I'll pack tonight," I say, my voice shaky, my head aching.
So is my heart.
"And stay away from Shukla's. That boy is trouble. I've done my research. His brothers are always trying to steal my clients. I wouldn't doubt that's why he's getting with you. He's just using you to get closer to me, to help his brothers," Dad explains.
I lift my head, anger suffusing me, though I keep quiet.
The world doesn't revolve around him. Something he still doesn't quite get.
Not everyone gets close to me or my mother in order to get to him. It doesn't work like that. Not always.
"Okay," I mumble, not meaning it.
"We'll discuss this further tomorrow." He blows out a harsh breath. "I'm so disappointed in your choices, Pumpkin. You were on the right path, and you've ruined everything."
"Having sex doesn't ruin your life, Dad," I bite out, annoyance filling me.
"Don't talk back," he snaps. "Who are you right now?"
Before I can tell him, I'm your daughter, he ends the call.
And I burst into tears.
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