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I am reviewing this week's reports when I hear someone knock.
"Come in." It's Sai. I'm a little surprised but pleasantly so.
"Hi Sai, have a se-" Something is terribly wrong. He looks scared.
"Sai, what's wrong?"
"R-rutu-" he mumbles without looking in my eyes.
Shit.
I rush out of my office, hurry into the lift and reach his room. I knock. Once. Twice. Thrice. No response. When he finally opens it, he looks fine.
Oh and I don't just mean emotionally or physically, but....bodily.
With water droplets dripping from his hair, he looks like he has freshly showered.
"You good?" I manage to blurt out between thoughts heavy with desire.
He's puzzled. "I am. But much better after seeing you. Do come in."
Ugh, Ruturaj don't be sweet today or else I will not be able to hold myself back.
He moves his hand to invite me in and all I see is muscles of his arm flex.
That sleeveless shirt will be the death of me.
So, everyone, what do I do to distract myself? Talk random nonsense without giving him the chance to speak. I'll blabber, if he asks what's wrong, I'll tell him I'm not feeling too good and leave. Simple plan. Stupefyingly unpredictable outcomes.
"The weather is so humid today. How do you guys practice in conditions? There must be some who sweat like me, right? I absolutely hate it when I sweat a lot. You know, my classmates used to call me 'Sweatika' in primary school. And there was a phase when I had this sad, silly insecurity that no boy would find me attractive because I sweat too much and too easily."
I want to change the subject but for once I don't. His genuine interest makes me want to be brave. And so I gather all the courage I have and continue,
"But then this boy came in my life who gave me wet wipes as a gratitude gift and it touched me that he thought so deeply about the littlest of the things."
He swallows.
"You know, Ruturaj..." his name tastes delicious, and so I let it roll out in its entirety.
"...he makes me feel so happy and scared at the same time. I experience a strange thrill each time I am with him and a sense of intense fear. Too happy to know him. Too afraid about where this is going."
I pause and look at my hands. Recalling every moment. Scolding myself for choosing the worst possible time to tell this to him, even after the firm decision to let the season end.
The grains of my courage have seeped into the lower half of the hourglass. They're gone. I want to take everything back. I am about to look up at him when I feel him take a step forward.
