15- “I need to cool down my crack- head.”
VANSH
“Natasha.”
She deterred her attention away from Angie, who she was conversing with, to me. With a frown I add. But I wasn't in a mood to care.
“Hey, man!” Gary greeted, seated, one seat after Angie while I forced a smile, despite the turmoil inside. “You look pale. Are you okay? And what happened to your chin?” He asked, squinting his eyes at the band aid plastered at the left side of my chin.
Was it normal that I wanted to strangle him right now? “Got careless while shaving,” I answered with a straight face and turned to Natasha who got talking to Angie again. “I want to talk. ”
She let out a hiss, not even hiding her frustration. “Can't you see, I'm busy. We can talk later,” she replied, nonchalantly, without looking my way.
My jaw clenched, I was starting to see red. I closed my eyes for a second, controlling the urge to snap at her in front of everyone. Instead, I rotated her chair in my direction, placed a hand at its arm and leaned to reach above her head. “If you don’t accompany now, I swear I'll sham you in front of the whole goddamn office. It won't be a pretty sight I assure you,” I threatened in a low dangerous voice and stood straight. She stared at me, stunned for a moment before getting up with confusion written all over her face. A mocking whistle followed behind her. It was Angie. She seemed like she was about to mock some more, but stopped, after seeing my face. Good.
Thus Natasha accompanied me downstairs. It was going to be one hell of a day.
The trip downstairs was suffocating to say the least. My temper was like a balloon that kept expanding, just waiting to burst. Natasha didn't make it any better by her curious questions along our way.
“Stop!” she said, louder and stopped walking. We had reached the entrance of the parking lot. “Where are you taking me and why the fuck can't you speak till you reach? What's so damn important that you can't wait till lunch?”
“It's about the asshole who showed up at my door this morning.”
“And what does it got to do with me?”
“It has everything to do with you!” I snapped and grabbed her hand, my patience running low. “Now come before I start speaking.”
“Bloody leave my hand. I can walk by myself,” she said, snatching her hand away. I resumed walking further into the parking lot. Thankfully, she followed me this time.
We walked a little further until a door came into view, stopping me on my tracks. This shall do for now. Thinking that, I pushed the door open.
“Did you ate dead rats this morning? That's a ladies washroom!” Natasha informed curtly, pointing out to the label of a lady in front of the door.
“I don't care if it's a ladies washroom or any kind of washroom. People rarely show up here anyway,” I said through gritted teeth and turned to her, “Your voice is echoing throughout the floor. It will grab attention,” I informed, pointing over a guard at a distance, facing the entrance. A car just passed our way. Without wasting any time, I entered. There was a narrow pathway before the actual washroom so I stood against the wall, crossing my arms.
Natasha followed behind me then checked out the toilets too, just in case. Nobody was here except us. She stood before me, “You better be quick, boy. I'm already at the end of the stick due to other issues. A girl can't even have a peaceful morning, darnit!”
I was sure her 'other issues' and my disastrous encounter were connected to the same person. “It has got to do with a certain man, I presume.”
She raised a brow, “You think so, how? What does he look like then?”
“Tall, bulky, black hair, black eyes, two day stubble... Oh and a cut like scar right here,” I described pointed a finger to my temple.
“What was he wearing?” Her voice was awfully quiet now.
“Red blue checkered shirt, sky blue jeans.”
I watched as her face paled before me. She averted her eyes, placing a hand before her mouth with a slight 'o'. “I can't believe this. That stalkerish bastard. I can't even,” She mumbled, shaking her head before glancing back at me. She pointed a finger towards the band aid on my chin. “Was this also...”
“Yes, it was your stalker,” I answered her incomplete question while she blew out air in distress. This must be the first time I was seeing her this defeated. It must be a big deal for her.
It took a few seconds of pungent silence for her to speak up, “Tell me what happened? When did he visit you?”
And so, I told her. Recited how right after confirming my name did he attack me, then threatened me to answer his question about that night. “Is he staying with you or somewhere else?” I asked to which she said yes to the former. Now that was surprising. “Okay, seriously, who is he?”
“Drama king.”
I held back a laugh. “Come on, don't bullshit me. Now I know how weird you are but you have to be absolutely drugged to let a stalker stay at your place... Wait, if he's staying with you then why bother coming to mine? He could have just asked you instead. This just makes lesser sense than before.”
“Well,” she started, pursing her lips, looking elsewhere. “It's because I lied.”
“Lied?”
“Yeah. I said what he was expecting to hear. That I hooked up with you and shit. I even made it more meaningful saying I had a crush on you... Oh, don't give me that look. He was being so clingy and persistent that I had to get him out of my hook.” She snorted in the end.
“By targeting me,” I said, gesturing with my hand. “You practically told him to get to me. No wonder he went all hulk mode back then.”
She rolled her eyes. “Right. As if I was dreaming about him barging to your house this morning. I never told him your address.”
“That psycho didn't just barge into my house,” I snapped, balling my fists and took a furious step towards her. “He threatened me with a pocket knife. A bloody knife on his hand!” I gestured again. I could still remember it vividly. How he unfolded the knife after taking out from his pocket and pointed the blade towards me. Regardless of its small size, it was still sharp steel, capable enough to pierce through the flesh. I had lost all bravado right there and then. Naturally, I answered his question, convincing him again and again, that nothing happened while literally begging for my life. After repeating the same answer for like, the hundredth time, he came to terms with it. Never did I felt so relieved in convincing someone in my entire life. The drunkard bastard finally walked out on his own with a creepy smile on his face. Since he hinted at staying at Natasha's place, I avoided calling the cops and decided to confront the source of this fued instead.
Natasha waved a hand in dismissal, “He probably just showed off to piss your pants. Don't worry, he's totally harmless.”
“Like I was supposed to know that from the start. It doesn't matter whether he was harmless or not. The fact that he flashed a knife is enough to scare the daylights out of anyone,” I raised my voice, feeling my anger reaching it's boiling point. “It's you! It's all your damn fault this is happening!”
“My fault?” she retorted, laughing sarcastically. “Are you hearing yourself? He might be associated with me but I have absolutely no control over his actions whatsoever. He has his own brain and body to do the work. He visited me on his own. You hear me? On his own.”
“It doesn't change the fact that it's your fault! You lied to him! God, these last three days have been so stressful. First, I had to put up with your shit that night—”
“Then who the fuck told you to come? You could have just—”
“And what do I get? Nothing! No, instead I'm shown a sandal and pushed down.”
“That's because of your stupid revenge, you twat.”
“And that's because of your stupid game. The alcohol, the revenge, your psycho excuse of a boyfriend— it's just one thing after the—”
“What are you...?”
“—other.”
“En- ough.”
“It's already exhausting in this office but you just make it worse. You always make it worse. I don't even know why I am friends—”
“Vansh!” she breathed, “You're too...”
Close.
That's when I woke up from my madness. Shocked. Somehow I ended up standing next to her and not just next to her— I could practically feel her breathe under my nose. What? Why? When did this happen?
The washroom became a hell lot silent and heavier than before. “Sorry, I will...” She whispered, lifting her grey eyes to me and my heart leaped against my chest. “...talk to him. I'll tell him the truth so that he won't bother you again.”
Her soft words blew air against my lips, evaporating all my anger into thin air. “Hmm...” Both of our gazes fell on each other's lips. It reminisced me of the time when she kissed me and when she pulled my tie yesterday. My voice was almost quivering when our foreheads touched. “Y- you don't have to keep up with him though. You know that, right?”
“You won't understand.” Her chest heaved as the tip of my nose made contact with hers. Our clammy hands brushed against one another with our palms almost joined together, bringing gentle goosebumps to my skin. “I'm responsible here... He's suffering because of me. If only...”
“Why?” Was the only word that I managed to utter while her hot breaths slapped my face, mixed with her feminine scent. Our noses were pressed in an awkward angle as we tiltled our heads, our upper lips almost touching each other. My mind became numb, I closed my eyes. The place felt smaller, our heartbeats louder while our bodies a lot more warmer than necessary. It was electrifying.
She whispered something in the dark and I willed myself to open to the bright lights as if I was exposed from a scandal. My eyes widened. Her voice came as a slap, bringing to the stark reality before me. Her red chapped lips parted but then quickly closed when I stepped away. The expression she wore right now wasn't something I witnessed before. She wasn't shy, nor confident, nor angry. She was just that, vulnerable. Intense. It intrigued me more than it should.
I was making my mind as what to say or not to say, to cut off the awkwardness palpitating between us. Just then my ears picked upon a sound of approaching footsteps from outside, with each step becoming a bit louder than the last.
“Shit!” Natasha was quick to snap to reality as she glanced at the door then back to me, panicking. I had almost forgotten that this was a ladies washroom (since we weren't actually standing there). “Hide in one of the washrooms, quick. Go!” she urged, practically shoving me towards the main area. Without letting myself dwell any further, I did as she told.
Later, when the coast became clear, we wordlessly stepped out of the washroom and returned to the office, pretending as if the last few minutes never happened. And that was the truth. Nothing happened.
~
“Ah, there you are.” Irfan approached me with a smack from behind. I clenched my teeth, controlling the urge to snap at an innocent person. “You were away for a quite a while man. Were you that thirsty? It ain't even summer,” he said, pointing over to the can of Pepsi I was holding in my hand.
What was that? What was that? What was... “Cool. I need to cool down my crack- head,” I answered in a low voice. I lifted the can near my mouth and downed the remaining drink in one go. My mind trailed off, lost in the abyss of how, what and why while crushing the can in my palm.
“Hey, easy, dude. What's the matter?” Irfan spoke, curious when I walked up to the vendor machine to buy another can of Pepsi. “Something is off with you two today.”
What was that? Wha- “Two?”
“You and Natasha, both,” he told me. “While she was being a nutcase for the past few days but today, she's exceptionally quiet, although still pissed. Her, I can understand but why you too? Is it because of her video you sent yesterday?”
“I already apologized for that,” I answered nonchalantly and took a long sip of the drink, burping in the process.
“I feel like something is going on but I'm being kept in the dark about it. It's not a cool place to be in, you know,” he said, casually though I could sense the underlying bitterness in his words.
Well, it wasn't like I know everything. I drew out a sigh before facing him, “There's nothing wrong, bro. There may be something going on with Natasha but not me. Just feeling under the weather today. Also, you can have your lunch on your own. I'm stuffed. Now if you'll excuse me,” I said, taking a few more sips before trashing the can to the waste bin. Soon after, I left a curious Irfan, losing myself in the questions of 'what was that?' again.
Natasha and I didn't exchange a single glance, forget communicating throughout the day. Wasn't surprising in the least. Just when I thought I wouldn't see her, I spotted her after office at the bus stop. She was standing aloof from a small crowd with a burning cigarette between her fingers. She brought it to her mouth and took a long drag, producing smoke. When the smoke evaporated into the thin air, she caught me standing on the other side of the road. The two of us shared a blank look, which was soon disrupted by the bus reaching the stop. I was meant to climb on the very same bus to reach the subway but decided to wait for the next one instead. I wasn't in the mood for any more awkward confrontations.
Guess I said that too early.
.
The psycho showed up again at the weekend, the next day.
It was late afternoon. I understood how he trespassed here, the first time because of the lack of security guard around, then what happened this time? Was he sleeping? And why was I dumb enough to open the door? I should have expected him.
The fucker had the balls to greet me a friendly 'hi', like we were long lost neighbors. I simply responded by shutting the door on his face. Atleast I was about to, when he stopped it by pushing the door against me. “Ab maine tera kaunsa ghar ukhad diya jo mere ghar chala aaya, bhenchod? (Which house did I destroy this time that you had to come running into mine, you sisterfu**ker?”
He placed his arm on the door, forcing it towards my direction, “I came to apologize,” he replied with with straight face. I stopped struggling. He left his hand on the door too, and pulled out the empty pockets of his jeans and shirt. “No knives, no guns, nothing. I'm as empty as one could be... Oh, except this wallet,” he spoke with a dry laugh and proceeded to show what was worth inside. It was just a few dollars of cash and a credit card.
I gauged him. He still seemed to be in his drunkard state which was prominent from the bags under his eyes and the way his forehead would crease often. But definitely not as mental as before. It was hard to tell. “If you...” He paused to press the middle of his forehead between his fingers before continuing, “still find it difficult to believe then I can remove my jeans to show there's nothing in there too. Well, except for the obvious male anatomy. Ha, ha, ha.”
My nose crinkled in disgust when his hand reached the button of his jeans. “Ew, stop! Fine, I believe ya,” I felt compelled to say and he stopped. I gauged at the situation again and felt my lips twitch. “Empty handed you say.” Before he could so much as open his mouth, he was met with my fist across his jaw. His hand went to cup his left jaw whilst groaning when I forced another punch near his eyes, making him fall.
Unfortunately, he saved himself from falling by the boundary wall behind him. He regained his senses quick enough to stop my next attack while pointing another fist to my face. “I don't let anyone hit me twice and spare without breaking his bones. Better stop before it turns ugly.”
“You really thought I'd say 'I forgive you' after the glorious stunt you pulled yesterday? In your dreams, motherf€ker!” Both of us had a fist pointed out to each other while the other one, blocking it. We struggled, secretly waiting for one of us to lose the grip. When it became pointless for a while, we stepped away, panting.
“Truce?”
I tched, “Why do you intend to gain my forgiveness? You hardly know me.”
He blinked his eyes before replying, “Because Natasha wants me to. Though she didn't tell me to visit you for that purpose,” he answered before losing his stand, falling forwards. Since I wanted to avoid him falling onto me, I was compelled to hold him back. “Oops,” he stood straight, displaying his hands in front of me to prove he was okay. As if that concerned me. I was about to go inside when I noticed him slumping on the wall, adjacent to the door. “Don't mind me, bro. I'll just sleep here for a while. I'm having a hangover... hangover... There's a song on it, if I remember correctly. Hang-o- ver, teri yaado ka hang-over~”
He was starting to get on my nerves. Then again, it would be weird if anyone saw him sleeping right outside my door like a creep. I opened the door for him. “You can rest inside for the time being.”
I was about to proceed to the kitchen to get myself a glass of water but went back when the stalker didn't respond. He was still sleeping soundly as if the wall was his pillow. I cussed under my breath.
I wonder if anyone did what I was doing right now. The stalker stepped inside, slowly while limping his arm around my shoulder for support. I led him near the couch and let him fall on it. First Natasha and now this nameless stranger. Do I look like a fuckin' porter to them? Atleast I was clever enough to fall by myself.
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A u t h o r 's N o t e
This and the next chapter was previously combined but now, I divided it because it was crossing 6900 words, which was seven thousand words approx. 😩 Thoughts about this chapter. About Natasha and Vansh's heated argument. And the stalkerish stranger who shows up uninvited. 😉
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