Love In Two Cities [COMPLETED]

10-Open Air Talk

The Saturday morning is bright and clear. The San Jose State University's amphitheater is filled with hundreds of students, donned in long, black, flowing academic regalia, with trims of different colors, segregating them into their branches of study.

Pooja sits there with her aunt and uncle, in one of the thousand seats, claps when her brother walks up onto the stage with orange trim, and receives the degree. Mrs. Saroja in mustard yellow Mysore Silk, sniffs and swells her chest, clapping hard. Mr. Joshi nods in approval. Pooja clicks a few pictures, trying to focus on the stage decorated with purple-centered white flowers.

But still, she looks around. There are hundreds of boys around, but none seem to be at least a quarter as charismatic as him. Where is he? He would be here for sure. Why hasn't he spoken to me yet? Is he going to, after all? Maybe not, she thinks in despair. Maybe all the nice-talking till now was to just kiss me. Now that it's done, he wouldn't be deemed to bother. Why didn't I realize this earlier?

Just then, a loud Indian family appears out of nowhere, and the oldies start chatting with great gusto. After she has been introduced, Pooja gets the strangest feeling that the bulky aunty in the navy blue Banaras saree might ask when she is getting married, and slowly puts herself a few feet away from them.

'You wore the sari I selected' says a voice in her ear.

She turns to him, trying to look casual, despite her sparkling eyes.

'And you got yourself a haircut' she points out triumphantly.

Phelan tilts his head in agreement to this, soaking in the side profile of Pooja with the wine color georgette saree draped around her. He wants to sweep her off her feet, carry her home and make love, forever. She's wearing a sari. There's something about it. It changes the way she stands. And the way she walks. And the way she turns around. Why, why, why does she wear these saris all the time?! Aren't they super difficult to wear? And I kinda lose my mind whenever she does, which is totally annoying.

The loose end of her sari keeps fluttering whenever there's this breeze. I've seen hundreds of people wearing saris; why the hell is it so dramatic on only her!

Suddenly, all he wants to do is hold her by the shoulders, and ask what the hell is she doing to him.

He consciously straightens his peak-label charcoal suit instead.

All the while, she's been studying him from the periphery of her eyes too. Hot suit + haircut (my suggestion) + suave attitude + Tom Ford perfume (not a great fan of it, but still! It adds up to the damn list) + side smile + velvet voice + denim-blue eyes. How am I supposed to handle all these at once? God, why do you do this to me?

Also, she has spent the last two days wondering about the different other things she could have done after he kissed her.

1) Slap him (too harsh, not my scene)

2) Cry, scream (too much drama for me to handle, seriously!)

3) Kiss him back (seems most doable, except that, why didn't I do it? Okay, I know I wouldn't have done it)

'Won't you go cheer for Henry?' she asks crossly.

'There's still time left' he points out. 'They're at D. And why is your aunt trying to hover around us like an enemy drone?'

Pooja turns to spot her aunt trying to spy on them from a distance, under the pretext of talking to a few Indian ladies.

Suddenly, Pooja is very annoyed with herself. What is wrong with me? I'm standing here, talking to the person to managed to kiss me without my permission just two days back! What kind of a girl am I?