FIRST LOVE- I

“They say, when you are eighteen, you have to fall in love with someone. She never thought it would ever happen to her. But still, there was something about that dude that was bothering her. He was not among the most charming guys in the gang. He was not even suave or funny. In fact he was kind of broody and Heathcliff like. Maybe it was his frankness and casual attitude that attracted her – she didn’t know for sure. There was one thing that sent electric shock across her body – his smile. Edison didn’t invent any formulae to calculate how much this version of electricity could affect people!

This wasn't a silly crush. She was a grownup now. This was love. True love. She had known him for a year or two and had a crush on him at one point early on. She had spoken with him a couple of times but each time,she found out to her dismay that of all the words available in the English language, she could recollect only ten or fifteen words! All grammatical rules broke down when she looked into his eyes. She didn’t have the courage to go and talk to him about her feelings. She knew he would never go for her. She was plain , pudgy and dorky. To her he was perfection. Time passed by. They became good friends.

They were travelling by bus. Looking out the window, she realized her head was beginning to ache. It was ridiculous really, she thought. Why was this so difficult? She thought she was over it. Over him. She glanced down at his hand. Would he ever hold her hand in his? He could so easily reach out and touch her hand right now.

Things had changed between them, hadn’t they? He didn’t treat her like that kid he used to hang out with. He was lost in thought. She was different. He knew she had a crush on him when she was a kid. But now things had changed, he was certain of that. But he was uncertain of exactly what those changes meant. He knew she was just as happy as him to have him as her friend. But did he want them to be something more?

They walked home from the bus stop both lost in thoughts. He realized how much he depended on her. They reached his apartment. She gave him the slow half smile that was so much a part of her. The smile that accelerated his heartbeat. Without thinking he said “ I don’t know what I would do without you.” She turned to him and said “I think I’ve had feelings for you, for a really longtime.” He edged back mumbled something and disappeared into the house without a word.

It was her birthday. She didn’t really want to celebrate. He hadn’t called. Why would he? She had decided to avoid him. It seemed like the longest day she ever had to live through. All she wanted was a book to curl up with in bed. Then he called asked if they could meet. She was nervous.

They met at the beach. He laid his hand on her arm, and she was compelled to look back at him. "Are you unhappy?"
"No," she said immediately, truthfully.
He continued to scan her face as his hand slid down to her wrist. "Are you happy?"
She opened her mouth, prepared to answer, then closed it again on a quick sound of frustration.

Why must those eyes be on hers, so direct, demanding perfect honesty? They wouldn't accept platitudes or pat answers. "Shouldn't I be?" she countered. His fingers tightened on her wrist as she started to rise. She had no choice but to face him again.

"Are we friends?" he asked.

She fumbled for an answer. A simple yes hardly covered the complexities of her feelings for him or the uneven range of their relationship. "Sometimes," she answered cautiously. "Sometimes I don’t know what we are."

“Me too” he thought silently. Hadnt he come here wanting to make things right! He couldn’t bear not talking to her. He entwined his fingers with hers, deep in thought.

He turned to him and said, “I like you, I really do. I wish we lived in an universe where all that mattered were the feelings of two people. But it wont work out. This is not right. You are too young to understand. I want you to forget this evening. I don’t want to see you or meet you for sometime. Now, Go home."

She blinked at him, confused. "What?"
"Go home," he repeated in the same frigid tone.
Her eyes were suddenly round and eloquent. "Oh, no, I—"
"I said go." His words fell like an axe. "I don't want you here."
Even as she stared at him, she paled from the hurt. There was nothing, nothing he could have done to wound her more deeply than to send her away. She felt both a rush of angry words and a rush of tears back up in her throat.

His words had been the last thing she had thought of before she fell into an exhausted sleep and the first to play in her mind when she awoke. She had been wrong. He didn’t like her.

"Why do I like him so much?" she asked herself. "What is it about him that attracts
me?" Her brows lowered and she stared into the distance. "Is it his voice, that is musical, and appealingly? Is it his intelligence? His wonderful sense of dry wit? Or is it the way he moves, with such fluidly controlled grace?”