April 24 2018,
The plane descended, and my family and I embarked on a short road trip to our beach house in the southern part of Goa. Not much of a party person, I appreciated nature and calmness. I was glad my dad chose a house in the south part of Goa, right beside Tristan's. Taylor Swift's "You Are in Love" played as I opened the car window, revealing the lush landscape of Goa unfolding beneath us. The vibrant greenery, the azure sea, and the golden sands signaled the beginning of summer. Excitement bubbled within me, and the tropical air wrapped around me like a warm embrace. The familiar scent of salt and sea lingered, promising adventures that awaited on the Goan shores. The anticipation built with every passing kilometer. "You Are in Love" continued playing, and I found myself constantly checking in the mirror, fixing my hair. This mix of thrill, happiness, and nervousness all at once.
As we arrived, the waves welcomed us with their crashing symphony, and the sky was painted in shades of orange and pink. The beach house, filled with precious memories, stood witness to the tales of summers gone by. Tristan's family greeted us warmly; Aunt Jane gave me a giant, smiley hug, and Uncle Jack threw in a friendly high-five. The air buzzed with conversation; Ben and my sister were already in the midst of a playful argument. Amidst the lively scene, my eyes were searching for him. Where was he? I couldn't find him.
Curious, my mom casually asked Aunt Jane where Tristan was. To my surprise, Aunt Jane shared that he'd picked up a part-time gig this summer at Peter's Shack. What? He used to be busy playing cricket every summer, and now this job? Trust me, there were many times I chided cricket because of the attention it got from him. I guess this happens with every Indian girl at one point in time; we all feel envy and scold this cricket.
My favorite spot in the house is my room balcony, with Tristan's house on one side and glimpses of the beach peeking through coconut trees on the other. The waves danced back and forth, and the gentle breeze played with my hair. It was a stunning scene that framed my house, his house, and the beach — a canvas where the moments we shared came rushing back, brief but unforgettable.
The question of whether to hit the shack or not echoed relentlessly in my mind. After pondering for so long, impatience got the better of me. I swiftly changed into a pink maxi dress paired with white half shoes, allowing my hair to cascade freely. Butterfly earrings dangled delicately, accompanied by the Souvenir of Love necklace, and a butterfly bracelet adorned my wrist. With the anticipation of our imminent meeting, every step towards the beach felt like a journey towards happiness and freedom.
Upon reaching the beach, a row of shacks stretched before me, and the realization hit that I hadn't inquired about the specific shack where Tristan was working. How foolish of me! I hurriedly began visiting each shack, scanning the faces for his familiar features. In my haste, a man approached me and boldly asked if I would join him for a drink. I politely declined, explaining that I was searching for someone. He insisted, revealing that it was a dare for a game of truth or dare with friends, adding a bet to the mix.
In a rush, I declined, but he persisted, offering to share some money from the bet. I declined the money but sought his advice instead. We sat at a nearby shack named "Beach Spirits" and ordered two iced teas. He asked what kind of advice I wanted. So, I told him about my feelings regarding Tristan and how I was afraid to confess due to the fear of rejection.
After listening eagerly, he asserted that women should never fall in love first; it's ugly. According to him, men should be the ones to fall first. He then brazenly asked for my number. I thought, "What kind of idiot is this?" Irritated, I stood up and walked away, scolding him and berating my own stupidity for seeking advice from a complete stranger. Yes, sometimes I make foolish decisions. What kind of man was he? I openly shared my feelings for someone, and instead of showing understanding, he made fun of them, flirted with me, and gave a statement saying women should never fall in love first – a complete asshole.
This is a problem with me: I like to talk with people and be cordial with everyone I come across. Regarding guessing what the person is at first and behaving accordingly, I don't even have the courage to scold people whom I don't know when they do wrong by me. I blame my upbringing for this. I was brought up by my grandparents. Trust me; there is an entire world within people. Don't expect all people to have the same values as you. Saying this to myself, I'm walking on the shore a little bit irritated.
Suddenly, my steps halted as he appeared in front of me. Dressed in khaki shorts and a white T-shirt with a cool black design, a black beaded chain swaying with the wind, and sporting white crocs that matched perfectly. His hair fell to his forehead, flowing with the wind. His blue eyes glittered in response to the sun's rays. He was taller than the last summer I saw him. Undeniably gorgeous and intense.
I had been thinking about this moment for exactly 11 months – how our first meeting in the next summer would be. What would he look like when I meet him? In the era of Instagram and WhatsApp, we both don't post pictures online, so there is always this anticipation.
The charged silence between us stretched until the rhythmic groan of the waves finally broke it. He cleared his throat, his gaze steady, and in a voice heavy with something I couldn't name, asked, "What are you doing here, Priya?"
Caught in the pull of his eyes, I blurted out, "I came to see you."
His lips twitched, a smile fighting to break through, but he pressed them together, a flicker of doubt crossing his face. My own words jolted me back to reality. What had I done? Flustered, I hastily amended, "To see the beach, and you, of course."
He gave a soft chuckle, playfully messing with my hair. "Sit here," he said, his voice warm. "I'll be out in ten minutes."
Heading into the charming shack where he worked, known as Peter's Shack, I settled nearby, observing. The shack boasted a vibrant and distinctive charm, painted in rainbow hues, adorned with exquisite dream catchers which gently swayed in the breeze, flowers, and shells carefully arranged on the table. Truly, it was a one-of-a-kind shack.
He came and closed my eyes, saying 'no peeking,' and took me to the place where we often used to come as kids. It's our spot on the beach; this bench where we are eating ice cream. There's a breeze coming off the water. We haven't spoken much, which is okay for me; sitting beside him is the happiest thing for me.
Looking at him, I think, 'Whatever Ravisha says, love is just a game, and guys are players. They're never really in it; they just pretend.' But amidst all this skepticism, in the world of guys, he stands out as a true gentleman. There's a magnetic pull, not just physical attraction, but a love for how he treats me. He's always there, a shining light in moments that matter.
Like that time before summer, we all went for a hiking competition. I came in last, feeling down, perched on a rock with Ravisha, Arinjay, Mayank, Ben, my sister — the whole noisy bunch. Yet, he spotted my quiet sadness, even in the midst of the crowd. I didn't have to say a word, and he spoke the very thoughts hidden in my heart. He lit up my world, and what's incredible about him is that even in moments of fury, he never disrespects others. His words are chosen carefully. He's sincere about his dreams, whatever they might be.
In my world, he's not just any guy; he's the melody in a chaotic song, the calm in a storm. Every glance shares a story, and every smile turns a new page.
As Taylor Swift's lyrics echoed in my mind, he was the daydream I'd been chasing.
His long legs are spread out beside mine. How lengthy his knees and his leg hair. He is thoroughly a man now. 'Priya?' Tristan asks, breaking my thoughts. 'Yeah?' I turn towards him.
'You might want to eat that a little faster.' He points to my orange popsicle dripping down my hand. 'Shit.' I try to move my hand away, but it lands on my dress. I rub at it, but it only seems to make matters worse.
Tristan watches from the corner of his eye with a little smile. 'I can't believe you still eat orange popsicles. How old are you?' He teases.
I look at his ice cream with two scoops of vanilla and pistachio, saying, 'You're one to talk. Vanilla and pistachio, seriously? Orange popsicle is the best. You just never learned to appreciate it.'
Tristan raises one eyebrow, leans over, and bites a chunk of my orange popsicle. Watching him, I let out an involuntary gasp. Then he turns toward me and says, 'I will give you a taste of mine to be fair. I promise it's good,' his voice as dark and smooth as coffee. I take a quick taste of his ice cream. 'You're right,' I say. 'It's pretty good.' His eyes flash to my mouth, and then he clears his throat.
His voice, filled with curiosity, broke through the comfortable silence. "What's new in your world, Priya?"
I had something important to say, a confession of feelings that had been building up for three summers. It was right there, ready to come out, but I kept it to myself like a delicate butterfly trapped in my chest. Instead, I decided to share a safe and work-related update. "I wrote content for some of my favorite YouTubers, and one of them wants to work with me!" I said with enthusiasm, but my voice, a bit too cheerful, revealed the inner turmoil I was feeling.
Curiosity mirrored my own as I turned the tables. 'And you, Tristan? What's new with you?
He leaned back, the white T-shirt catching the sunlight like a halo. 'Building a hospital back home—a place where lives get mended, not broken,' he said, his eyes blazing with ambition.
Hearing his dream, a genuine wave of pride washed over me. Life, I thought, takes unexpected turns. Maybe this, our dreams heading in different directions, is exactly how it's supposed to be. Regardless of where his path led, my support would be his constant.
"You'll build that hospital, Tristan," I said, my voice steady with conviction. "And I'll be your biggest cheerleader, always."
My own dreams, a mix of content creation, YouTube adventures, and cozy beachside hotels, danced in my mind. Can they coexist alongside his noble mission? Only time will tell. But for now, under the sun's warm gaze, I held onto the unwavering hope that our dreams, though separate, would blossom under the same sky.