Why would she think something like that? Me? her brother? Before thinking that she should have hit her head somewhere and lost her memory. She is already half crazy anyway.
She cleared her throat.
“What?” I asked.
“So?”
“So?” Sometimes I don’t understand her half-eaten talks.
“Anything new happening in your life? A girlfriend?” she inquired, already knowing the answer.
“You know, I don’t have a girlfriend,” I said matter-of-factly. Why does she always have to bring up this topic then act like she has no idea what’s happening in my life? Somewhere it’s true.
Only if she knew.
“Then?” She was in the mood to tease me now.
“I’ll make someone my wife,” I responded, looking directly into her eyes. She immediately looked down at the table, fidgeting with her fingers. She seemed nervous, though I didn't know why.
“Yeah, right,” she nodded and glanced at me through her long lashes. I want to… “You’re boring,”
“I’m not bored. I have morals, and I want to maintain them,” I said proudly. I take pride in having principles. No girlfriend and intimate relationships before marriage. I can do whatever I want with my wife after marriage. Simple. If that makes me a boring person, so be it.
“Siddy, you’re twenty-six,” she said. “You should have a girlfriend and explore that relationship.”
“Like how?” I leaned closer, resting my forearms on the table. “Having sex with her before marriage?”
Her face lost all the color, eyes widened in shock and lips parted. She couldn't believe I said the word “sex” so casually.
What else would I call it anyway?
I lean back in my seat. She still looks stunned though. My eyes went on her parted lips. And a strange, wild and inappropriate thought crossed my mind.
I wanted to kiss those lips.
I avert my eyes from her.
I know it was inappropriate and I shouldn’t have thought about it. But it came.
What’s wrong with me?
But who am I kidding? I never got that feeling for anyone, but when it comes to her, I feel a lot of things that I can’t control. And I hate it about me.
“Siddy! What’s wrong with you?”
My eyes again went on her lips. Her lips were the perfect shade of reddish-pink, perfectly shaped. I knew they were soft; she had kissed me multiple times on my cheeks, forehead, and chest when we were kids.
It's wrong.
I focused on her hands on the table. “I know my age, Naaz. But what’s the point of having a girlfriend when I can have a wife instead?”
I mean, I could have one. I’m twenty-six, own a thriving electronics business, have my own house, car, and a bike—though I am considering giving it to Rizwan—my younger brother. He had asked for it a month ago. I’m well-settled. Any girl’s parents would gladly give me their daughter. But I don’t want anyone's daughter, I want…
“I was just saying,” Naaz looks a little off, so I decided to tease her to lighten her mood.
“Naaz, you’re twenty-three. Where’s your boyfriend?” I mocked.
“Unfortunately, all of them are fictional, and the real one might be dead,” she replied sadly.
She had never had a boyfriend, thanks to me. She blames me.
“Thanks to you, my protective asshole friend.” she winked, with a bitter smile.
“Don’t curse,” I said, and she rolled her eyes in irritation. I decided not to push further. “Well, you look depressed. Should I find you one?” I laughed.
I was joking. Before doing that I would rather shoot myself.
“No, thanks.” she smirked. “Anyway, God knows where the fuc- he is?”
“I’m impressed with your effort, Naaz.” I said honestly.
“Thanks. But it’s difficult for me. You know that.”
“I know. But keep trying, you’ll succeed one day.” My words had a hidden meaning.
“Are you hinting about my dead boyfriend?” she asked, perceptive as always.
I wanted to correct her that he’s not dead. But I didn’t. “Kind of,” I nodded.
“But he’s already up there,” she laughed, hopelessly. “If he were alive, I’d be here with him, notwith you.”
It stung a little, though I didn't say it to her.
“Don’t say that. I’m sure you’ll find him soon,” I assured her. “Just keep looking around you.”
She nodded. “I hope you also find her soon.”
“Maybe I already have one. You never know,” I winked.
She laughed.
She looks beautiful when she laughs like this. When I make her laugh like this.
“You were joking, weren’t you?” she asked, getting serious once her laughter subsided.
“Maybe. Maybe not,” I said.
“Who is she?” she asked, desperation in her voice. I enjoyed it. “Where is she? Tell me.”
“There’s no one, Naaz,” I lied.
There is one…
She playfully hit my arm. “Bluff master,” she laughed. “You scared me.”
Scared her? Interesting.
“Why?” I asked.
“Huh?”
“Why did you get scared knowing I had a girlfriend?”
I was curious. Desperate.
“I don’t know,” she looked confused. “Maybe I don’t want to lose you.”
I took her hands in mine. “You’ll never lose me, Naaz. We’re good friends, and we’ll always be good friends.” lie.
I want more. More with her. More of her.
She nodded, though she still looked unsure.
And, I didn’t like it.
“Okay, I have an idea,” A crazy wild idea.
“What is it?”
“If we don’t find partners in the next two years, we’ll get married. To each other. What do you say?”
She laughed. And I didn't like it.
“I wasn’t joking,”
“There’s no way you won’t find a girl, Siddy.” Her voice became serious. “Any girl would die to marry you.”
“Even you?” I asked, deadpanned.
“I don’t know,” She shrugged. “I never saw you like that.”
It's not that hard to like me? I wanted to yell at her. Instead I said something else. “Yeah,” I nodded. “We’re good friends.”
“Definitely,” She agreed, smiling.
I smiled back.
Our order arrived in the next five minutes, and we dug into our food like hungry kids. It was a competition—we always did. Whoever finishes first gets an ice cream treat from the loser. Unfortunately for Naaz, she always lost.
“Looks like you’ll lose again,” I teased.
“STFU and eat, Hulk,” she chided.
She always calls me Hulkwhen she gets angry. Funny.
I chuckled at how cleverly she used the abbreviation to curse. “You’re smart.”
“IKR?” she laughed.
Our laughter died when we saw a tall figure clad in all black clothes. Black T-shirt, leather jacket, pants, and belt. He was smoking a cigarette and he had that evil smirk on his face.
The bad boy.
Zahir Arif Ali.
I hate him, would be an understatement.
“I’m going to kill him,” I told her. I am not a violent person but he was an exception.
“Calm down, please,” She begged, seeing my fist clenched and ready to punch him.
He walked over to our table, pulled a chair from another table and sat casually facing me, next to Naaz.
He better stay away from her.
“Hey! Lovely people,” his voice was sarcastic. “Are you guys on a date now?” he added in a mock tone, pissing me off.
“What if I say yes? Is there a problem?” I shouldn’t have said that but, it was already late. Naaz looked slightly….embarrassed? And that angered me more.
Why was she embarrassed? Am I not worthy of her?
“Siddy, relax,” She said, grabbing my hand to calm me.
I pulled my hand back. She looked hurt. But I was blinded in anger.
My blood pressure couldn't stay normal around him. He disgusts me.
“No.” he said. “Why would I have a problem?” His words didn't match his eyes.
They looked pained. Hurt.
Strange.
Does he have feelings for Naaz?
The thought crossed my mind, and I felt a surge of anger and possessiveness. I said something which I didn't want to. “Where's your slut?”
He winched. And Naaz visibility shuddered.
I never disrespected women, but his so-called girlfriend fits the description. She sleeps with random guys frequently. Once, she even tried to seduce me. I never told anyone except Naaz.
I hate Zahir with a passion.
“You,” He snapped, banging his hands on the table. “watch your tongue.” he warned, showing a fist.
“You, leave us alone,” I warned, showing my fist as well. I didn't fear him.
Naaz sat quietly, waiting for one of us to make the first move.
She loves drama.
“Don’t call her a slut again, or I will shut your mouth for good,” Zahir warned.
“And you, stay away from us. Especially from her.” I pointed to Naaz. “Do you understand?”
Naaz was busy eating her food in a hurry to win our competition. I almost laughed.
I looked back at Zahir. “Leave, before I punch your ugly face,”
He was anything but ugly. But he doesn't need to know what.
“You,” The next moment, a hard punch landed on my face, leaving a bruise on my right cheek.
Naaz finally stopped eating and gasped in shock as we started punching each other.
“Wow! So good,” She mocked.
I know we were creating a scene out here. And Naaz was anything but pleased.
“One more punch.” she said, showing her disapproval.
I was ready to kill him, but to my surprise his punches didn't hurt me as much as mine did to him. He was bleeding.
“Okay! Enough, both of you,” Naaz finally intervened, to separate us. She wrapped her arms around me, pulling me away. I let her, but not before kicking Zahir.
“Fuck,” He groaned in pain, lying on the floor holding his stomach.
“Can you help us kick this goon out of this restaurant?” She mocked the useless manager.
“Yes, ma’am,” the manager rushed over and pulled Zahir off the floor and took him away. Outside the restaurant.
Naaz forcefully made me sit back on my chair. “Don’t you dare show your face again, or you’ll be six feet under,” I warned him.
“And don’t call her a slut. You don't even have a girlfriend. What a shame, pretty boy.” He mocked one last time before leaving the restaurant, pushing the manager aside.
“Mannerless,” I muttered. “I’m going to kill him someday.”
“Calm down.”
“How can I calm down? You know why I hate him,” that asshole.
“I know,” She said, rubbing her fingertips gently on my upper hand to calm me.
It did work somewhere.
“What were you doing?” I asked, eyeing her plate. I remember what she did back then.
“I was eating my food.” She replied innocently. “I didn't want to lose. But I will give you a treat today. You deserve it,” She added, pointing to my bruised face.
I quickly clean the blood with tissue paper. It hurt, but I didn't show it to her.
“Do I look bad?” I asked, suddenly getting self-conscious.
“Is your girlfriend here?” She mocked, looking around.
“You’re annoying. I swear to God,” I laughed.
“You’re looking fine to me,” She assured me, ignoring my comment.
That’s all I needed to hear.
We finished our food and left the restaurant. She whined like a toddler, demanding ice cream, but I ignored her and looked for a car.
“Siddique, I want ice cream,” She cried like a baby.
“Fine. I–” I changed my statement. “You go and buy ice cream for us.”
She frowned.
“You are the loser. Come on!” I added.
“Mean AF!” She cursed and went to a nearby shop to buy ice cream for us.
“She knows how to curse without using the word.” I chuckled, and got busy finding a ride.
She came back by the time our ride was here.
“Get in,” I said, opening the door for her.
“Thank you,” She got in first and I followed behind sitting next to her then closed the door behind.
The car started moving.
“I got your butterscotch,” She handed me.
“Thanks for the treat,” I said, taking a bite. It was good. I love butterscotch.
“You’re welcome,” She said, busy with her vanilla and chocolate mix ice cream.
“Can I have some?” I asked, pointing to her ice cream. Suddenly, I had an urge to taste it.
“Siddy..” she hesitated.
It was wrong. We were not kids anymore. Sharing food was different now.
“It’s okay,” I said. “I will try it next time when you lose again,” I laughed, trying to lighten the mood.
It worked.
“Next time I will win,” She said, determined.
I liked her confidence but reality is different. “We’ll see, Sadigi alsaghir,” I challenged.
“Stop calling me that. I’m not a baby anymore,” She chided.
She hates when I call her by that name. But, I noticed her cheeks turning pink.
Cute.
“For me, you are,”
That didn’t sound right.
“Sure. Your baby sister, brother.” She chided.
Yeah! Definitely a wrong move.
“Don’t say that again. We’re friends. No need to add more relationships between us,” I was disgusted.
“Yeah,” She agreed. Good. “Just don’t piss me off.”
I nodded.
We reached outside her building after an hour. Paying the fare we both get down from the car. I’ll walk home. It would take me around twenty minutes to reach.
“Can you go inside by yourself, or should I walk you to your door?” I asked, standing outside her building.
“I’ll manage. Thank you,” She smiled over sweetly.
Then I noticed her middle finger at me. She put it down halfway, but it was too late; I had already seen it.
“Do you often do it with others?” I asked angrily.
She flinched in fear but managed to answer, “No.”
“Naaz, be honest,” I insisted, knowing she was lying.
“Okay. Yes. Happy?” She snapped.
“Naaz,” she knows that tone. Disappointment.
“I will try not to do it again.”
“You better follow through on that.”
“I will try my best.” She promised.
“I don’t know how your husband will handle making you do the right things in the future,” I said, noticing her making faces. “Don’t make faces. It’s wrong, Naaz, and you know it. Good people don’t do that.”
“Okay, Professor Siddique,” She mocked. “But I want to point out that good people don’t get into physical fights, either. And definitely call a woman slut.” She added.
“I am guilty about that comment. And, you know why I always react like this,” I said in defense. I was hurt that she brought up that topic knowing well why I despise him. She was guilty. I could see it in her beautiful eyes.
She opened her mouth to say something, but I cut her off. “Don’t do it again.”
Then I left from there feeling the sting of our conversation.
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