Lut Gaye || لٹ گۓ

TWENTY FOUR | The Awans Shenanigans

"tu jaan mangay toh."

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ALL eyes were on her sinuously moving silhouette.

Zunyra Awan chasséd through the university campus, gaining admiring gazes from some guys, envious stares from some girls, and judgemental glances and whispers from both as she passed by the students scattered around the surrounding.

Garbed in a dark grey rib-knitted sweater dress with a mock neck and a figure-flattering sash belt tied at her oh-so-snatched waist, creating a faux wrap look and ending at a midi hem with a centre slit―paired with ankle boots and golden hoop earrings, she radiated oomph.

Zunyra didn't mind the attention, she relished in it, knew she was worthy of it, knew people couldn't ignore her.

It was the late hours of the morning, she had just gotten done with her first lecture of the day and had bunked the second because she had already invested all her energy in the 8 freaking AM one.

Now she needed coffee to get through the rest of the day.

She was on her way to the cafeteria to grab a cup of iced coffee when she noticed a short and slender girl hysterically running in her direction and when she was almost close to her, she stumbled on the pavement, a loud gasp escaping her lips as her frame dropped on the concrete floor like a sack of potatoes, right before the brunette.

Zunyra recognised her; she was from the same course as her but different section. She had seen her around a lot, might've even conversed but she didn't know her name.

And she didn't care enough to know either.

Groaning, the girl with shoulder-length wavy hair glanced up, meeting Zunyra's narrowed eyes locked on her pitiful, fallen frame.

"Are you waiting for me to give you a hand or something?" Zunyra asked, her voice sickly sweet and her expression utterly sour as she stared down at her. "Get up, loser."

Biting her lip and putting her hands on her knees, the girl hoisted herself and stood up, smoothening her clothes and then veering her head to the intimidating female standing in front of her, she mumbled;

"I-I'm sorry, Zunyra."

"Gross."

"Huh?" The girl blinked owlishly at her.

"What are you apologizing for? Falling down and getting up on your own?" Zunyra prodded and then shook her head with a tsk. "Fix this wimpy attitude of yours, please. Don't give people like us a chance to trample over you."

The short-haired girl stared at her open-mouthed for a few seconds, befuddled, struggling to make sense of her spiel. Was it a piece of advice? A threat? Or words of wisdom? She seriously couldn't tell but decided to just nod her head at whatever it was.

"By the way, why were you running around like a headless chicken?" Zunyra asked coolly. "What's the rush?"

"Oh shoot, the basketball match!" the girl clamoured, slapping her palm to her forehead. "I was actually supposed to cover it for the sports magazine of Uni. Even Omer is playing toda-"

"Omer Bakhtiyar?" Zunyra interrupted with a pointed quirk of her brow.

"Y-Yeah."

"He plays basketball?" She narrowed her curiosity-filled eyes and tilted her head. "Since when?"

"Uh, he joined the club last semester but he doesn't participate in matches much. I've heard he's a great player though, in fact, he is the ace of the team."