Saturday, 3 May 2014

The Chanced Meeting (Short Story)

It was raining heavily as I stop an already occupied cab. The driver and the customer, thankfully, agree to give me a ride. As I step in, to my surprise, the occupant was my old college friend. More of an enemy. Or something in between. “Hey, Sabrina!” greets Greg, jumping a little on his seat in surprise! I am shocked to see him too. “Where to?” asks the driver. ‘Oh- to Central Lane,’ I reply. “Hey, you! How are you?” I say, surprised to find that he had finally found the determination to work out that chubby fat. He looks quite handsome, I must say. Oh no, I mustn’t say! “You look quite good. Hey you have been working out!” I say. Hphm. “Haha, Sabe,” did he just call me by the nickname that he almost stopped using after that incident(?), “Yes, a little. You are still the same. What have you been upto? It’s so great to see you today, like this.” Oh-today? Ah- the V-Day, the day that brought in a little discomfort between our friendship. Talk about co-incidence! “Yeah, same here. I am good. How’s your band? Are you still playing?” oh- the band, whose page I unliked on facebook some ten months after that incident. “hm, yeah, I am playing. But not with them anymore. Infact, I am heading to a concert right now at LaPache. You are welcome to come hear me if you want!” he smiles; ah-the smile that twists the veins in my stomach. SO WANNA KISS HIM. RIGHT NOW. He is heading to a concert, not to listen to someone else, but play on his own guitar, prolly his own song! “Oh, no, I cannot; I actually..” I slow down to come up with an excuse; though the concert offer sounds lucrative; afterall I am just going home to pat my dog and watch TV.  “It’s alright. You must be having other plans. Some hot date waiting at LaCentral?” he says with that childhood grin with which he used to tease me years ago. “hehe,” does he really think I’ll go to a date who doesn’t have the decency to pick me up, “No, Jemmy would really be missing me,” I say. He has a confused expression on. “Oh- my pet dog, Jem. Scrouge passed away two years after college,” I explain. “Oh, Scrouge! I loved that mad one! You remember when,.” he says, when the driver interrupts, “Miss, right or left?” Uh-huh. Just two more lanes and I would be home. Away from his company. I just started to enjoy it. “hmm, you say,” I say, looking at Greg. He looks at me, first blankly, then a little furrow, then a twinkle in his eye, and then smiles cooly, and replies to the driver to go straight. God, I hope he doesn’t have a girl band-partner. We all know how they are. Or how he is, with them.
Some ten more minutes of way and we reach a big open space, squandering with people, mostly couples. We go to an eating jag, and I take a hot-dog and he grabs a cheese burger, and he pays, I let him and we start strolling. We go near to a temporary made up stage, when he takes leave for five to go arrange about his music. Few musicians were already melodying away. I stood there, enjoying the time. He comes right back, and introduced me to his gang. Cool, all boys. And quite good-looking, I must say. No I mustn’t. And I don’t. Thank god. As they play next, I join the large group of people standing and cheering them. I felt like his girlfriend. How weird. It’s been so long since I have been that. Nine. Years. (!)
After their song, I compliment him. He did really grew as a singer. And now, they pay him too! Good for him, and me, I think. It sounds so cool to date a singer! I immediately shrug off the thought and wonder what’s wrong with me. It is most definitely the work of those triceps which I am imagining under the taut sleeves of his cotton shirt.
After half an hour of eating continental and talking about our college mutual friends it is time and he says, “It was great meeting you, Sab, should my cab drop you off?” “No, I shouldn’t bother you more! I’ll take one myself. I had a great time,” I answer. He smiles, reluctantly, I think.
Coming back home, I am still thinking about him.

One new notification.
Gregory Roxton sent you a friend request.
Oh, he is thinking about me too. J


Writing prompt:
1.      A taxi, an old enemy, and Valentine's Day.

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