Sarah is more excited than I have ever seen her. She is through her second beer, and still on her legs, jumping up and down.
"So, tell me more. What is he like? Where is he from? What are you thinking about your future?" she squeals.
"Sarah, relax, girl. You're getting ahead of yourself. I have no plans for future, I'm not dating him. And his family is quite traditional; I don't suppose he is allowed to do a love marriage, even. We belong to different communities, and he is not going to jeopardize his family relations for anyone, let alone for some girl he just met. Also, I'm not ready to date yet, I like my independence too much to get into a relationship just yet." I scoff.
"Face it, Az. You are scared of commitment. You always have been. Ever since that jerk –what was his name?- Shahbad cheated on you with your 'best-friend'," she scoffs, "and if you are not serious about him then tell me why you are you always on phone with him?"
"He is my friend, okay. And he's amazing in bed?" I have goofy eyes.
"Yeah, whatever. But he is really cute, right?" she asks.
"Hey, back off."
She giggles, "So, you are jealous, aren't you?"
"Hells, no. I'm not jealous. I just mean, you are too pretty, and if you end up liking him and you two meet each other and hit it off, I'm going to have to end friendship with both of you. Imagine how awkward it would be if you start dating him." I tell her.
"Relax. He is not my type. I like cute, baby faced guys. This Dave looks like a man, he is so big. And way too older than you."
"I prefer men to boys."
"Yeah, like Dave."
"Shut up."
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My life starts to run in a schedule. I don't make breakfast anymore since I wake up late. I run at the top speed, grab a dark chocolate or a pastry on my way, and still manage to get late every day. Customers form a queue and my manager scolds me some days, but I show no signs of remorse. I eat lunch scraped from old bread and egg, and my colleagues say they pity me for not eating properly. As if I have any idea what is going inside my stomach; I just keep waiting for 5 o'clock in the evening.
"Hey, pig. Where are you?"
"Office."
"When will you get off from work?"
"Whenever I feel like."
"Meet me in front of the Petrol Pump in an hour."
I return to my room, wash off, get dressed. I see him standing near his bike, smiling in a sea of sparkling stars and we start off, me clinging tightly to his waist as he revs through the labyrinth of greenery, fumes from an industrial town, and cold winter air to reach the Holtshire Institute of Technology, Dave's old college, and we sit inside one of the little huts nearby, which serves food for the college students. We gorge ourselves on fried noodles and poached eggs, him talking and me listening to him telling his college and job stories. We come back after two or three hours, where he drops me before going back to his dorm. And then he video calls me and talk and talk while I make something easy for dinner- biscuits and soup, and we talk late into the night. I don't get nightmares anymore, even though I don't sleep too much, and for the time being, I feel like I am living someone else's life.
Sometimes he "visits" me in my room, where we talk, fight, kiss and fuck until both of us are out of breathe. Both of us are big enough, and my bed creaks like it's begging to be spared from our combined weights. I cook him white sauce pasta from the packet because I don't want to waste too much time away from him.
A few days with Dave, and I begin to realise Holtshire is not as bad as I thought it to be. There is more greenery in here as it is still a new town, and the industries haven't spread all the way, and it is surrounded by rivers on two sides, which are both one hour away from my room. On days when Dave is busy at work, I visit my gym or go out by myself to visit the other riverside on the other side of the town, since the communication to this one is better than the first one. I hop up on a rickshaw that is open on the back, and look at the scenery as the town passes by. After clearing the hotchpotch of the main town, the rickshaw moves through a clean road that overlooks a small village- straw huts dotting the sides and cattle baying through the silence. The sky, a clean blue, or most of the times, a deep grey with clouds overlooks green fields sowed with the season's harvest. The never ending road finally reaches the harbour where small ships leave for other towns, and I lean on the railing overlooking the river. Every moment I spend on the shores of this river makes me feel alive, the breeze hitting my face and the clouds gurgling above the water, or the glassy reflection from the sun basking me in its glory, and the children playing in the mud on the bank, in some way, I began thinking of Holtshire as my new home.