Amidst Our Erred Stars

15

"Are you going through my suitcase?" I asked, catching that thief red-handed as he shuffled through my suitcase, "Do you think I'm some thief or a criminal? Of course, you do, what was I even expecting from you." I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms.

Until my eyes landed on the perfume bottles beside him. Oops.

He kept the last bottle out and turned to me. Where are his clothes?

And manners? And probably some lajja?

I should look at his face but my eyes cannot focus. I need to stop looking at his body, if, by any chance the towel decides to drop, I hope it does-, I will have a first-hand experience with how those swimwear models look like in real life. Minus the face, of course.

I'm curious about the writings on his body; I wonder what they say.

"Wanna say something?" He asked, looking at the perfume bottles. What was he using for the last four days then?

"Your tattoos look awful," I replied. Look away, Seerat!

"Wasn't talking about them." Right.

"Why are you roaming around without clothes?" I asked, "You know what? Bring out those rules and write down that indecency wouldn't be tolerated."

"You walked into my room without knocking, how is that my fault?" He asked, "Wait a minute, are you getting-"

"Nauseous after looking at you?" I asked, "Yes."

"Pregnancy symptoms, I presume?" He asked.

"No roaming around without a shirt, first rule," I replied.

"No one stopping you from doing that, you can roam without a shirt, I personally won't mind." He shrugged, taking a shirt out of the cupboard.

"Of course, you won't, besharam, badtameez, galeech sab toh aap hain." I scoffed, unable to hide my irritation.

"Ow, we're on a nickname basis now?" He asked, "Can I call you Brocolli?" He suggested, unfazed by frustration, "I hate broccoli."

I'm going to ask his house help to make broccoli ki sabzi three times a day from now on.

How long will he take to wear his clothes? It's been five minutes and he's still standing in a towel.

Throwing a light yellow-coloured shirt on the bed, he threw a dark-washed jeans over it before looking for a pair of socks.

"Ab kapde pehente hue bhi dekhogi?" He asked, "Dekh rahi ho asli besharam, badtameez aur galeech insaan kaun hai hum me se?" He asked.
(Will you keep staring even while I'm getting dressed?)(can you see who's the actual besharam, badtameez and galeech person among us?)

"Dekhne layak kuch hona chahiye dekhne ke liye." I rolled my eyes, "Aur aapke paas kuch aisa nahi hai dekhne layak."
(You should have something worth looking at to be worth looking at.)(And you don't have anything worth looking at.)

"Strategy achi hai, par nahi dikhaunga mai kuch, jaao niklo yahan se." He replied, walking over to me as he kept his hands on my shoulders, pushing me into the bathroom.
(That's a good strategy, but I won't show anything. Now go, get out of here.)

It all happened so fast that I couldn't figure out when he closed the door and locked me in.

"Be a little quicker, I don't have a whole day for you." He called from the outside.

I was left standing in the bathroom, stunned by his audacity. How dare he lock me in like this? And why was he so infuriatingly nonchalant about it?

I quickly changed into fresh clothes, taking my time in doing light makeup, I was torn between painting my face with too light foundation to embarrass him and myself along with him or going natural.