14. Attractive Eyes
Life is much simpler when put on a sheet of paper.
"I can't believe it!"
I paced inside my bedroom, embarrassed by my actions, muttering whatever came to my mind. The maids helped escort Sunny to the guest bedroom and bathroom. While he waited there for his clothes to be dried off, I settled in my bedroom, away from everyone's laughter. My room's door opened widely and Ashar stepped in, his face lit up.
He thoroughly enjoyed the moment the water drenched Sunny instead of him.
"What do you want?" I asked harshly.
"An instant replay of what happened ten minutes ago." The amused smile hovering on his lips irked me.
"I was trying to dump ice water on you," I spat.
He rolled his eyes and plopped down on the bed, allowing laughter to escape his lips again. "You missed pretty badly." I couldn't hold my stern expression. "You can laugh, you know," he said comically looking at me. To think about it, the entire incident was hilarious. I cracked a smile which earned me a pleasant smile from Ashar.
An idea suddenly popped up in my head.
I thought about putting the scene in one of my scripts.
"Just imagine," I said, my head in another world, "the protaganist stepping inside the house furiously, the door banging shut behind her. Pan the camera around her, stop at a close up." I shut my eyes, imagining it like a picture. "Cut to an over the shoulder at the servants in front of her. She screams at a maid for a bucket of cold water, which a scared looking maid brings to her soon enough. Mid shots? Maybe. Then, the heroine steps seven or eight feet away from the door, in perfect angle to throw the water. The music in the background starts to rise. The camera cuts in the door knob followed by an extreme close up of the heroine's eyes! The music reaches a crescendo and the sound of the door rattle butts in. The anxiousness on her face deepens.
"The door knob finally turns a three-sixty degrees and the bucket of water swings in the air. Instead of just the water, the bucket lands on the guy's face, still maintaining the mystery. How about an over-the-shoulder shot?" I bring out my hands, my eyes squeezed tightly, and guide them in a camera position. "Suddenly, another face slides behind the guy's shoulder, next to his face. So a two shot. Well, it's the bucket there, but you know what I mean. So, maybe a medium shot . . . I dunno how well a close up would work. There's supposed to be an element of surprise so--"
I abruptly pause, confused which shot would work in the scenario.
When I met his eyes, I realized he was looking at me like if I was some lunatic.
"Medium shot or close up?" I asked. "Oh my god, how about a point of the view in the beginning to show the anger?!" I no longer cared what he thought about me or the director inside me. "I have to write this down! Quick, grab me a pen and some paper!"
"Do I look like your maid?" He crossed his arms, refusing to budge.
"I thought we were planning on being more civilized towards each other," I pointed out. "You better take the first step or I refuse to be in love with you."
He sighed tiredly before pulling out a pen from his jacket's pocket. I supposed the designer in him always carried a pen or a pencil. Meanwhile, I searched for paper, which I already had a supply of tucked in one of my dresser drawers. It was for emergency purposes like today. Times when ideas were erupting like volcanoes. I searched for the chair next to my dresser, but it was nowhere to be seen.
"Where's the chair?" I asked, frowning.
Ashar shrugged, though something about his expression seemed shady. "How would I know?"
I didn't have time for this. Grabbing the pen from him, I pulled a sheet of paper and started drawing a storyboard. My cold hair stuck to my face as I bent over struggling to hold a web of ideas.
"Fetch me a hair tie," I told him.
"What do I look like? Your dog?" he retorted in offense.
"Please!" I muttered. The hair escaped from behind my ears and hindered my view. That moment, I wouldn't think twice about going bald. Ashar failed his mission, announcing he couldn't find anything but useless items like "makeup" lying around the room. "Why don't you make yourself useful then and hold my hair?" I said sarcastically.
Instead of a snarky response, he found his way near me and leaned against the dresser, his body facing me. I looked up for a brief moment, scowling at what he was planning on doing. He extended his arm, his right hand grazing the skin on my neck, sending shivers down my spine before collecting my hair in his grip.
"Like this?" he asked innocently.
I wasn't going to give in. I had ordered him to hold my hair and that he shall do.
"Exactly." I shot a pathetic excuse of a smile before starting my drawing again. Ashar was directly in front of me hardly a few inches away. The place where his hand brushed against my bare skin seemed to distract me a lot more than I wanted it to.
Focus focus focus, I mentally chanted.
"Why are you drawing stick figures?" he asked curiously.
"I'm a visual learner," I answered. "I can't write down all the stuff I said earlier. Pictures make more sense." Next to the pictures, I wrote down little words to describe the audio from the scene. "Isn't that how your profession works too?" I pointed out. "You have to make a rough design before constructing the final one on Photoshop or Illustrator or whatever."
He nodded, smiling a little. "I guess we finally have something in common . . . besides our contract."
I scoffed. "We have nothing in common."
"That's also something we have in common," he pointed out smartly. With his free hand, he pointed to my drawings. "We're the protagonists of your little scene there. Also something in common. You did call me the hero."
I let out a short laugh. "You're the anti-hero of my story." He frowned and I suddenly noticed something . . . interesting about his eyes. "Stay still," I ordered.
"Why?" he scowled deeper. I leaned closer to his face to attain a better examination position. "Are you trying to take advantage of the 'we have to be in love' thing?"
"Shut up," I whisper-yelled. Boring my eyes in his, I said, "The outer coloring of your eye is considerably darker in color. It looks attrac--"
My own pupils dilated at what came out of my mouth.
I called his eyes attractive?
A waiter's eyes?!
His forehead wrinkled and the stretch of his eyes contracted, further gracing me with a narrowed glance he seemed to have an expertise in. Ever so slightly, his head tilted sideways and he gazed back into my eyes. His sole focus was on my eyes. Why that made so conscious of myself confused me. A sudden wave of warmth grazed over my cheeks, worsening my mood even more. How dare I let such a casual conversation turn into something so . . . mushy for my own self?!
"Attractive?" I knew he was going to make fun of me now.
"Get out."
"You're finally admitting you find me attractive?" The smugness on his face reflected equally in his tone. I couldn't even deny I wasn't going to say attractive because there's no other word I could find to dampen my humiliation.
"Have you seen your face lately?" I asked, keeping my confidence. "Midnight blue patches of bruised skin might be alluring to some girls but not to me. Regardless, the only thing I called attractive about you was the outer ring of your iris. You must be really desperate for my attention if you make a huge deal out of something so minor."
His jaw hardened, giving me the response I desired.
Welcome back to Planet Anmol, Ashar.
Smirking to myself, I finished the last of my drawings.
"Why do I even bother?" Ashar whispered ever so slightly. I shrugged in response. Nevertheless, he felt the need to continue and answer his question. "Maybe because your mom said you changed after your dad's death. That's why."
I narrowed my eyes at him. "Your pity won't bring back my dead father. Don't bother." Who the hell did he think he was? "You don't see me asking or prodding about your parents, do you, Ashar? Dead? Gone?" The mere mention of his parents made his jaw harden. I levelled my face in front of his and finished, "Listen, I'm not a charity case for a serf. You don't get to 'bother' about me or my suffering."
Something resembling pain crossed his features before a curtain closed over it. Releasing my hair from his hands, he retreated his hand. Instead of leaning back against the dresser, he shifted forward, leaving barely two inches of spaces between our faces.
"You don't get to mistake my compassion for charity," he said, his voice dangerously low and even. "For someone who hasn't even crossed the s of suffering, pity is the last thing you'll be getting from me."
His eyes mocked me. The golden brown eyes I had been examining like a lifeless body before taunted me. Ashar didn't waste another minute before stepping out of the room and giving me space to reflect on the turn of events. Obviously, the mention of his parents struck a dangerous nerve that exploded like a bad chemical reaction.
And I thought I had family issues.
I didn't even know a single thing about Ashar's.
Without another thought, I recollected my phone from my pocket and dialed my mom's secretary's number.
"Hello Ms. Majhraut, how may I help you?" The man had my number saved for emergencies. Whenever my mother didn't answer her phone, I went to him for answers. "Your mother is indisposed at the moment--"
"I don't care about her. Get me all the info on Ashar Virk's parents."
"Excuse me?"
"You're excused. Get me the information ASAP."
I hung up and stared down at the storyboard I had been creating with close ups, medium shots, etc.
Life was so much simpler when put on a sheet of paper.
Inhaling and exhaling quietly in my room while focusing on my work, I heard a slight knock. My eyes rose up ever so slightly, looking at the culprit through the mirror in front of me.
"What do you want, Cecily?"
"Mr. Sunny has finally received the dry clothes and he is waiting for you in the living room."
Like I said.
Life is much simpler on paper.
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A/N
Happy New Year!
Hi! I'm alive. Just not updating as I should be. I dunno if you guys know but this story is my child. Its my baby. I love it more than any story I have up on this account (yes that includes DWG and KWG). I legit have this story planned out to the end. However, putting all that in words on paper is the difficult part. You guys are gonna have to tolerate me. Time is valuable and in limited supply nowadays.
How was the chapter?
I know the outer ring of the eye thing sounds weird and all, but I personally find the outline of the iris inexplicably attractive. Please tell me I'm not weird and alone.
Where are Ashar's parents? Guesses?
How are you?
School? College?
That's what a storyboard is, if anyone's wondering. For future directors, you will need to familiarize yourself with this annoying thing. It's helpful, but highly exasperating.
Advice from the wise: stay away from any negativity that might be lurking around.
I hope everyone has a happy and blessed 2017 (let's be honest, 2016 was torture).
--K-K-Kiran